#Even though I suppose those two are different from the other one
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myanmardoesnotexist · 8 hours ago
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Analysis of Why Valentino Cares So Much
So, I know I write a lot of fanfiction, but perhaps my favorite thing about Rosquez is the psychology of Valentino, specifically his bizarre fascination with Marc (This is outside of shipping goggles btw). As the years go on, this fixation with one specific rivalry has become increasingly more clear, and I kind of just wanted to dive into why I believe Valentino Rossi cares so much.
To me, it comes down to two things:
#1: Marc was the first to really win (in Valentino's eyes)
With Stoner, Lorenzo, and Sete it was a rivalry for sure, and there was anger, but Valentino seemed to view it as sort of a game he could control. And he did control it, he came out the victor both to the public and on track. When they eventually got over their rivalries years later, it was Valentino being a 'benevolent king' with the vibe of sparing his enemy. Even if they beat him in the championship, ultimately Valentino won the game of relevance and importance in MotoGP. With Marc it was slightly different. Valentino got the entire racing world to turn against Marc (in a way he never had before with other rivals), and yet somehow it didn’t work. Marc kept on winning, he brushed off the hate, and he’s well on his way to matching Valentino is championships next year. Even if Marc's reputation never recovered, even if we know that Marc was very hurt by this, none of it matters because he is the more relevant one now. Marc is still riding, is on the currently best team (a team that Valentino failed to bring a championship to) and each year more and more people view him in a better light.
On top of that, Marc's name is up there with Valentino's as one of the legends in MotoGP history. Stoner, Sete, and Lorenzo are all brilliant drivers and some of the greats, but that top list is Agostini, Doohan, Rossi, and Marquez. Valentino is arguably still more legendary than Marc, but he will never be able to escape from the younger man. Their names are up there together forever, and to Valentino that is a first with a rival. He cannot look at any of it and say that he won, so it must mean he lost.
#2 Marc was the first to actually hurt him personally.
With Marc he clearly felt in some way personally betrayed. He liked Marc, this is almost undeniable. He was proud of him, he cheered him on, they hung out, honestly Marc was almost an unofficial VR46 student with the way their relationship was in those early days. Yes, Marc represented a passing of the torch, but Valentino almost seemed okay with it at that point. Until he became competitive again and found out that Marc doesn't just look up to him or admire him, but wants to beat him, point blank, and will ride on the limit to do that. This came in 2014, but honestly I don't think is was as prominent because Marc had such a dominant season it was hardly a real fight. 2015 though, it was Valentino really fighting for the title. And he probably expected Marc to bend the knee, to be on his side. Maybe not help him, but not impede him in any way. But they had their friction throughout the year, and the fact that Marc was racing him just as hard as he races everyone else got into Valentino's head. Because Marc was supposed to be on his side. So if he's not, he must be against Valentino and for Jorge Lorenzo. There is no in between.
So he lashed out, he let paranoia hit him, and yet somehow he still didn't get satisfaction. Because even though he did his best to hurt Marc, the other man barely seemed to flinch (which we all know isn't true, but to Valentino I think it is). And that would be particularly rough, because it would mean Marc didn't care. That all of that friendship was one-sided on Valentino's part, that he was the one used, which to someone like him, who always has control, would be new and very very uncomfortable. And so he created this narrative that Marc never liked him, Marc never looked up to him, everything was a lie and a manipulation, and he is a villain with no heart. Because I think to Valentino it is impossible to even act like he doesn't still care. So if Marc can do that, it must mean all of it was fake.
To me these two reasons are why Valentino can't seem to let go of this one particular rivalry, and seems so viciously angry about it ten years after the biggest incident happened. His crazy brain fascinates me, and even if you look at it through a purely platonic, non-shipper lens, its one of the most interesting relationships in MotoGP.
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d1xonss · 4 hours ago
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Hi there! I was wondering if i could get some straight Daryl Dixon smut where fem!reader is asking him to choke her for the first time? If not it’s totally okay! love your writing! <3
Something New
✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader
✧ Era : Season 2
✧ Pronouns : she/her
✧ Genre : ⚠️ Smut (18+)
✧ Word Count : 1.6k
AN ~ Oooh I don’t think I’ve ever done any kind of smut like this before, but I’m happy to try! And let’s preface this first before anything else; no I don’t think Daryl would realistically feel comfortable choking someone. He strikes me as the type of man that doesn’t want to harm you in any way during something so intimate, even if you asked for it. However, I think early seasons Daryl would definitely be a little rougher during sex which is why I planned for the season 2 era. But the moral of the story is this is just for fun, and I tried to keep it as accurate as possible.
Hope you enjoy! xoxox
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It had been a rough couple of days. Between getting stranded on the highway, losing Sophia, and Carl getting shot, it was safe to say that the group had seen better days. The recent events had taken a toll on all of you, the stress beginning to build up to the point of no return. And it was no surprise to you seeing Daryl was the one who was taking it the hardest. 
He was constantly tense and rigid, a permanent scowl on his face while nothing seemed to be going the way it was supposed to. Though luckily for him, you knew just the way to relieve some of that…tension.
Your gasps and moans could be heard by no one near as Daryl had taken it upon himself to move your shared tent far away from the others to get some distance. At first you were weary of the idea, but now you thought it just might’ve been the best one he’s ever had. Considering the filthy sounds he was pulling from you, it would be mortifying to face the others the following morning.
The small tent was pitch black, the only thing you were able to see were the soft outlines of the different shapes around you, along with feeling Daryl’s hot pants on the back of your neck as he continuously pounded into you. The sound of your wetness with every thrust filled the small space, almost suffocating as the sleeping bag beneath you was providing little to no comfort from the harsh ground beneath you. But with your legs tangled together and the feel of his dick hitting your hilt over and over again, the feel of tiny rocks below was far from your mind.
“Oh, fuck.” you whimpered, desperately grabbing and gripping at his arms that were wrapped around you as his pace was rough and determined. Your pussy was throbbing, the feel of his hips slapping against your ass was growing more urgent as you felt your wetness begin to run down your leg.
He grunted from behind you, feeling your walls clench around him, “That’s right, fuckin take it.” he growled into your ear, the next thing you felt were his teeth teasingly biting the shell.
You threw your head back in ecstasy, your toes curling all while trying to patch his pace with your own movements. But let’s face it, you were growing tired. And he had more stamina than the two of you combined. He could’ve kept this up all night if he wanted to just to torture you a bit more than he already was, having slowed down multiple times right when he felt you were about to come.
His large, rough hands then moved from your hips up to your breasts, giving them a generous squeeze before teasing your nipples just enough to get you to squirm even more. Gently pinching and pulling them to hear more of those delicious sounds. You cried out almost in agony with how much he was teasing you, the feeling both pleasurable and miserable. But Daryl couldn’t lie, he loved it. Hearing you like this, so aching and hungry for him drove him absolutely crazy.
Your bodies were sheen in a thin layer of sweat, the desire and lust growing even thicker with every plunge of his hips or bites at your skin. You wanted to feel him everywhere. Which is why your hand impulsively reached for his, tugging it toward your throat in a sex drunk kind of state. Though Daryl however quickly snapped out of it when his mind processed your actions, his movements stopping completely which only caused you to whine a bit in protest as you thought he only did it to tease you again. But what you couldn’t see was his expression was quite serious. Never in a million years had he even considered what you had silently asked him to do.
“What the hell are ya doin?” he asked, his tone rough with desire yet still somehow soft when it came to speaking to you.
His words brought you out of your daze, your eyes widening a little at what you had unconsciously done in a fit of impatience and longing. You had never outright admitted that you had a kind of kink, a fantasy perhaps of him wrapping his strong hands around your throat. But now that your secret was basically exposed, you felt extremely embarrassed, silently thankful that the tent was dark enough to where you couldn’t see his face. Although you could sense the tension resurfacing, the tension you so desperately tried to take away from him, was suddenly back within an instant.
“Sorry…” you huffed quietly as you tried to catch your breath, “Heat of the moment.”
Daryl was silent for what seemed like ages, leaving you thinking you had ruined the entire moment as you didn’t have a clue at what was going on in his head. But surprisingly enough, it wasn't what you had anticipated.
The idea of choking, spanking, or any kind of harmful thing really had never before crossed his mind despite how rough he could be at times. He never wished to intentionally hurt you, especially after the trust you had built up over the weeks of knowing one another. You were important to him, even though he had never been brave enough to admit that out loud, you were still quite literally the only person that mattered to him now. But seeing as clearly you weren’t opposed to the idea of exploring something new, he figured...maybe he could get behind it. 
His face leaned down toward your ear again from behind, “You tell me if it’s too much…ya hear me?” he said almost sternly to show you how serious he was about this.
Your brows furrowed in confusion, opening your mouth to question him, but you didn’t get the chance before his hand came up to gently squeeze at your neck. Your eyes widened, a surprised whimper escaping your lungs while his hips slowly began to buck up into you again, picking up right where he had left off.
The tightness he held around your throat immediately sent you back to that blissful haze, feeling your limbs begin to tingle as he continued to send shockwaves of pleasure up your spine. You moaned loudly when he squeezed a bit tighter, testing the waters with how much you could take. But it didn’t hurt at all surprisingly, like he somehow knew exactly what he was doing though he had never tried this before in his life. It was almost concerningly perfect, and you were in heaven.
“God, you sound so pretty.” he breathed, his pace increasing as he began to manhandle you, “You really like this, don’t you?” he asked almost teasingly.
But you couldn’t bring yourself to hear the tone of his voice, only managing to focus on how good it felt as you nodded your head frantically. Silently begging him to let you finish this time.
He choked you a bit harder when you didn’t respond, “Come on girl…tell me how good it feels.” he groaned.
You panted heavily while simultaneously swallowing to try and lubricate your dry throat, “Feels good- feels so good.” you stuttered pathetically.
Daryl hummed in approval as he heard your response, leaning his head down to kiss and lick at the skin of your shoulder while his free hand moved down to rub circles on your clit. A sharp gasp was pulled from you as you arched your back into him, your vision growing almost spotty at the amount of sensations he was giving you. Your legs began to twitch and he could feel your walls clenching around him even more intensely as you neared your orgasm again. But instead of slowing down, he finally continued to draw it out.
Your moans and whines grew louder and louder as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten, his hand over your throat only making your brain feel more fuzzy. You almost couldn’t control the sounds you were making anymore as you finally came, crying out his name in the state of bliss you had craved so much. It was like for a moment you saw stars, feeling as if your soul left your body for a moment as his fingers continued to work on your sensitive clit. The feeling of your tight walls consuming him left him not far behind as he quickly managed to pull out of you, before spilling himself onto your back with a low groan of pleasure.
It took minutes for the two of you to finally come down from your high, catching your ragged breaths while your bodies felt almost too limp to even attempt to move. But eventually, his hand retracted back from your neck as he slowly sat up a bit, leaving a tender kiss on the back of your head to express what he couldn’t with words.
“We…we need to do that again.” you breathed quietly, slumping onto your back from exhaustion.
He couldn’t help but chuckle at your silent request, shaking his head though you couldn’t see, “Let’s wait a few hours at least…don’t wanna kill ya.” he said lightheartedly.
You huffed softly, “I think you already did. I feel like I can’t move my legs.”
His eyes glanced down, his hand coming up to run along your hip before traveling down your thigh, “How bout a massage then, hm?”
It’s funny, you thought. One minute he was saying the dirtiest things, fucking you until you forgot your own name. And then the next, he was sweetly suggesting a massage after his own doings. But then again, you would never complain. Perhaps after this, he would be more keen to trying new things…
~ Thanks for reading!
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uniquexusposts · 1 day ago
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Forbidden territory | F. Alonso
Summary: Y/n is the daughter of a good friend of Fernando Alonso. She has always had a thing for the good-looking Spanish driver. Note: I can't stop thinking about the TV series Rivals, oh goodness. I am obsessed. This one shot is based on the book/TV series - Taggie and Rupert - created by Jilly Cooper :)
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The terrace was alive with soft conversation and the clink of glasses as the evening unfolded in the warm, golden glow of the Spanish summer. It was an evening to celebrate the mid-summer break of Formula 1 - the dinner was hosted by a good friend of Y/n’s father. Y/n tried to focus on the light chatter around her, the familiar sound of her family’s voices mixing with the laughter of friends. Her mind, however, was miles away, fixed on a far more complicated subject.
Fernando Alonso. 
She couldn’t help it. Even though he was surrounded by a small crowd, his presence was undeniable, pulling her attention like a magnetic force. She had thought she could keep it together, thought she could pretend that the way he looked at her; those brief, searching glances - meant nothing. But the truth was, every time their gazes met, her heart raced a little faster.
She glanced over at him now, pretending to adjust her hair, but her eyes locked with his before she could look away. Fernando didn’t look away, though. His gaze was steady, unwavering, and there was something unmistakably knowing in it. He was talking to someone next to him, but he kept looking into her eyes with a grin on his lips. 
It was just like him; too sure of himself, too good at this. Too aware of the effect he had on her.
And yet, there was something else in his eyes, something softer, a little more vulnerable, hidden beneath that cocky exterior. Fernando had always been so confident, so untouchable. But there was a shift in the way he looked at her tonight. A shift that made Y/n feel both alive and dangerously exposed.
She quickly turned away, pretending to engage in a conversation with her father, but her pulse didn’t slow down. She could feel his presence in the area like a weight pressing down on her chest. He wasn’t even near her, and yet, it was as if he were the only person in the world.
Fernando wasn’t like this with anyone else. Y/n had seen it. He was always charming, always witty, but he never seemed to linger like this, not like he did with her. They got introduced to each other two years ago, and ever since the first moment she looked at him, something changed within her. Which was weird, because she was only 20 years old at that time, and he was 41 years old. He practically could be her father. 
Her mind raced, but she fought to keep her composure. Then, as though he had read her thoughts, she saw him rise from his seat, moving through the crowd with that confident ease of his. Every step seemed measured, calculated, like he knew exactly how to get to her.
When he slid into the seat next to her, so naturally, so casually, it was as though nothing had changed, as though they were two people who had always sat here, side by side. But Y/n could feel the difference. She could feel the intensity in the air, thick with unsaid words, too much tension to ignore.
“You know, you’re looking a little too serious for someone who just watched a race,” Fernando said, his voice light, teasing. He leaned back in his chair, an elbow casually resting on the table, so close that their shoulders brushed, sending an unintentional shiver down her spine.
“I’m just tired,” she said, too quickly. Too defensively. She hoped her words would mask the rush of adrenaline she was feeling. “It’s been a long day.”
“Long day,” he repeated, his lips curling in a smirk. There was something about the way he said it that made her heart skip. Something about the way he wasn’t just looking at her, but seeing her. “I suppose that’s one way to describe it.
Her gaze flickered over to him, catching the playful glint in his eyes. 
He wasn’t fooled by her words. He never was. “You know,” he continued, leaning in just a little closer, “you might be better off saying what you really mean.”
Y/n’s breath hitched in her chest, but she refused to let him see it. “And what’s that?”
“That you’re thinking about something,” he said, voice soft, but each word was laced with a teasing challenge. “Something you don’t want to admit to. I can hear your brains work, Y/n, all the way from the other side of the terrace.” 
His eyes held hers as if daring her to deny it. And damn him, it was hard not to. He was right, of course. She could feel the tension in her chest, like a string pulled taut, but she refused to let it show. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his presence affected her.
“No,” Y/n said, her voice firmer than she felt. “I’m just enjoying the party, processing the weekend, mentally preparing for the upcoming workweek.” Too much excuses. 
Fernando raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile spreading across his face. “Are you, though?”
The question hung in the air, and Y/n tried not to let it faze her. But he was so close. So close, with that knowing, amused expression. Fernando had always been like this; smug, unflappable, the kind of man who would make a joke at the expense of anyone, especially if it made him seem even more irresistible. And he knew just how to use that power.
He was dangerous.
Forbidden territory. 
She glanced away for a moment, trying to gather herself, but when she turned back to him, he was still watching her with that quiet intensity, as if he could see through her every facade. It made her heart skip.
“What did you think of the race?” he asked, casually taking a sip of his drink, but his eyes never left hers.
“I thought you drove brilliantly,” she answered, trying to keep it light. She needed to keep it light. “But I’m sure you already knew that.”
“Of course,” Fernando said with a chuckle. “I always know when I’ve done well.”
She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the cockiness in his tone. It wasn’t arrogance, really, it was just… certainty. An unshakable confidence that made everything he did seem effortless. She tried to settle into the moment, forcing her attention back to the conversation at hand. But her mind was still buzzing from their exchange. There was a tension in the air now, thick and electric, but she did her best to ignore it. After all, this wasn’t the time or place for anything more. She needed to stay composed.
Fernando, however, was still too close. She could feel the weight of his presence even though he wasn’t saying anything. His quiet intensity was almost too much, like the calm before a storm. And then, just as she was starting to think she could breathe a little easier, she felt him shift in his chair.
A woman, dressed in a sleek black dress, approached their table, speaking to Fernando in soft tones. Y/n watched as he stood up, offering her a polite smile and a casual wave to Y/n.
"I’m afraid I need to step away for a moment," Fernando said with a half-smile. "Excuse me, please.”
The woman’s voice was low, her words inaudible to Y/n, but the way Fernando turned toward her, offering his full attention, was enough to make Y/n’s stomach drop. There was something about the way he seemed so… interested, so ready to follow her, that made something twist uncomfortably in Y/n’s chest.
Her breath caught, but she forced a smile, her gaze flicking to her drink. “Of course,” she said, though she wasn’t entirely sure what she was agreeing to. He had already turned his back to her, following the woman toward the other side of the terrace.
It didn’t matter. She wasn’t about to let herself feel anything about it. She wasn’t about to let it bother her.
But it did.
Y/n tried to push the feeling aside as she picked up her glass, taking a long sip, the cool liquid barely soothing the fire that had ignited in her chest. He was just being polite. That was all. There was nothing to it.
Still, she couldn’t shake the image of him with the woman, the way he had given her his full attention. It was... something.
To distract herself, Y/n looked around the terrace, letting her eyes roam. It wasn’t long before she found another person she recognised; someone her own age, a man who was a friend of the family. She gave him a smile, the easy kind that she used to cover up whatever was swirling inside of her.
"Mind if I join you?" she asked, trying her best to sound casual as she slid into the seat across from him.
"Of course," he said, flashing her a grin. "I’m happy for the company.”
Y/n began talking to him about the latest news in Barcelona, keeping her focus on the conversation, on anything but Fernando. But even as the words left her mouth, she felt the familiar tug of his presence.
She glanced toward the other side of the terrace, almost unwillingly, and there he was. Fernando. He was standing beside the woman now, his side turned to Y/n as he spoke with her. The woman was laughing, her hand resting lightly on his arm, and it seemed like they were getting along far too well. Y/n’s gaze lingered just a second too long, but she quickly forced herself to look away. She focused back on the man in front of her, offering another polite smile, though it felt more strained now, like she was pretending to be something she wasn’t.
But then, again, her eyes betrayed her.
Fernando was looking at her.
It wasn’t obvious to anyone else, but to Y/n, it was unmistakable. Their eyes met, just for a second, before he quickly turned his attention back to the woman. Still, the brief flicker of awareness between them was enough to make her heart race. He had noticed her, even from across the terrace.
Y/n’s breath caught, and she looked down at the table to hide the flush that had crept into her cheeks. She wasn’t sure why it affected her so much. She shouldn’t care. It was none of her business. 
The conversation with the man in front of her continued, but it felt distant now, like she was only half-listening. Every few moments, her eyes would unconsciously flick back to Fernando. He was still talking to the woman, but every now and then, his gaze would meet hers again, brief but intense, like he was checking in on her.
It wasn’t enough for her to accuse him of anything, he wasn’t doing anything wrong, after all, but it felt like something was building between them, something that couldn’t be ignored. He was trying to stay composed, just as she was, but there was an unmistakable pull between them. 
She cleared her throat and tried to focus. “So, what about the new project you’re working on?” she asked her conversation partner, forcing her mind back to the present. She couldn’t let herself get lost in thoughts of Fernando. Not now. Not when he was over there, talking to someone else.
But even as she spoke, her eyes would wander back to him, drawn to him like a magnet. She couldn’t stop herself. There was something about the way his gaze would flick back to hers every few minutes, like he couldn’t quite leave her alone, like he wasn’t ready to let the moment between them end just yet.
And every time he looked at her, her heart would beat just a little faster.
It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to let it show. She wasn’t going to let herself care.
She forced a smile as her companion spoke about a recent project, but her thoughts were elsewhere. There was no denying it now: Fernando was aware of her. More than that, he was watching her.
And maybe, just maybe, she was watching him too.
Taglist: @itsjustkhaos@crashingwavesofeuphoria@maryvibess @ironmaiden1313@blodwyn4u@sltwins@heart-trees
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ihavemanyhusbands · 4 hours ago
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Saw you were taking Lucius Verus requests 👀
Perhaps something along the lines of Lucius rescuing reader from trouble. Hurt/comfort? I just know those biceps could hold me all day…
(if you write this can you tag me pls)
Oooooh thanks for requesting!!
(For the sake of this scenario, let’s say Lucius was allowed to walk the streets of Rome. Tw // mild violence)
————
“Fifteen denarii? For this?” You raised your eyebrows at the textile merchant, pointing at the swath of fabric you’d been sampling. “You must take me for a fool."
He frowned, his screwed up face uglier and even less friendly than before. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"For the quality, this is ten at best! And that’s being generous!”
"How dare you!" He spat, causing the stall's guard to take a menacing step forward. "This is genuine Tarentum wool!"
"I own such wool, and it doesn't feel nearly as coarse as this," you scoffed, tossing the fabric back at him. "You are scamming people with fakes."
"You forget yourself, woman," the guard said, his voice gruff.
He raised a large, meaty hand with the intent to strike you across the face and you flinched, trying to cover yourself with your hands. You grit your teeth in anticipation...
But the startling pain never came. You dared to look up as you heard the guard's confused grunt, and you saw that another man had caught his wrist.
"I would really advise against that," the man said, a dangerous edge to his tone.
"And who are you!? This does not concern you!" The merchant said, turning his glare away from you. "She was trying to tarnish my business!"
"Not without good reason, I suspect."
The guard tried to shove him off, but the man swiftly spun away from from his reach and punched him square in the face. You clambered backward as a full on brawl broke out between them, breaking the table where all the different pieces of textile were displayed. Your first instinct was to flee, but as you turned to run, a hand caught your arm.
"And just where do you think you're going?" the merchant sneered, his grip tight enough to bruise. "Look what you have caused!"
He backhanded you harshly, and at your cry, your savior knocked the guard unconscious and whirled around. There was fury in his gaze as he saw you cradling one side of your face with your free hand, and he took up the fallen guard's sword.
"Let go of her," he said slowly, pointing the tip of the sword at the merchant. "Or I'll cut off your hands."
Begrudgingly, the merchant let you go, and your savior nodded at you to get behind him. You hurried towards him without a second thought, instinctively holding onto his tunic. The two men stared at each other for a tense moment, poised to strike.
"I should cut them off anyway, so you may never strike a woman again," he spat, but lowered the sword.
"Get the fuck out of here," the merchant growled, his teeth clenched. "If I ever see either of you around here again, I'll have you killed."
Your savior did not even react to the threat, instead glancing at you over his shoulder. "Come on, let's go."
He tossed the sword on the ground and led you away, hovering close behind you to make sure no one else tried anything. Out in the busy street, he stopped you so he could examine your face, frowning. His thumb traced your cheekbone ever so lightly, which was just beginning to turn faintly purple.
You looked at him more closely, as well, pinned in place by the concern in his crystalline blue eyes. He was handsome in an almost divine way, like the personification of the god of war, Mars. He certainly fought like him, too, an undercurrent of violence under the flex of his muscles.
But you were not afraid of him, instead just awed that he had done it all in your defense.
"Does it hurt?" he asked, his eyes meeting yours.
You shook your head. "Just a dull throb now. Won't look so pretty for a while, though..."
"You needn't be concerned about that," he said, his hand retreating.
You swallowed hard, your face heating up at the insinuation. "I--Thank you for saving me, um..."
"Lucius, he said. "Lucius Verus."
"Thank you, Lucius," you said. "Surely I would be worse off if it hadn't been for you. Aren't you afraid he might call the Praetorian guard?"
"He won't. He would have to answer too many other questions that I'm sure he would prefer not to, especially about his business practices..."
You nodded, letting out a breath as you felt a little more relieved. You felt the urge to hug him, but instead you took both of his hands and squeezed them appreciatively.
"May the Gods bless you always, Lucius Verus."
He squeezed your hands back and smiled, inclining his head graciously.
"And you," he said, then glanced around at the busy crowd of the market. "I should like to be your personal guard for the rest of the day, if you'd let me escort you."
Your smile widened. "Well, I would never dream of declining such generous offer."
-----------
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I meant the isekai x self-aware fic with the team that you would never fight. I love it and want to see a part 2 of it. (sorry if I worded my previous ask incorrectly and confused you into thinking I was talking about another fic!)
OH- Butterfly- be more specific next time. I got around 3 different self-aware crk au's going on and you ought to specify which one you're referring to. I'm gonna mix them up if you don't T T Anyways, part two coming right up
Previous part
The ball's in your court pt2
While the battle between the heroes and Shadow Milk cookie raged on, Y/N cookie was just chilling with the kids and watching from the side eating popcorn (From where? nobody knows). The fight was pretty much still a 50/50 battle since neither team was taking enough damage for defeat. When did Shadow Milk cookie become THIS resilient??? Oh well, provided you got the healers doing their job and everyone else is holding up it would be fine.
Gingerbrave: So...
Strawberry cookie: The baker, hm?...
Wizard cookie: I thought you'd be bigger...
Y/N cookie: the feeling is mutual. And take as much time as you need to come to terms with it.
Strawberry cookie: And those cookies- the ones you brought to fight. Are... they the really like the ones we know? As in- the white lily cookie and dark cacao cookie. I don't know who the other two are.
Y/N cookie: Yes and no. Unlike the cookies of this universe, these ones are solely brought in to fight the enemy on my command. And if they crumble it's not a permanent death. They'll always come back provided I choose to use them for battle again. And even if I don't, they're on standby. Though I don't exactly think I'll need to put any of them on the bench with how well the battle is going.
Y/N cookie looks back at the fight, which hasn't calmed down in the slightest. But at least they were slowly getting the upper hand. The three other cookies looked at each other before looking at the baker.
Wizard cookie: So you're saying that anyone you choose to fight for you can and will appear?
Y/N cookie: Yeah, but that'll probably only be possible once I beat this boss or they lose.
Gingerbrave: Wow! This is so cool! It's like some awesome video game in real life!
Y/N cookie:... riiiiiiiiiiiight......
Strawberry cookie: I have a question.
Y/N cookie: Ask away.
Strawberry cookie: Earlier you said something about... Elder Faerie crumbling?... I-is that really gonna happen?
Y/N cookie: Uhh
Wizard cookie: Oh so I wasn't the only one who heard that.
Y/N cookie: Well-
Gingerbrave: Wait- he's gonna crumble?! When?!
Y/N cookie: Ok just calm down so I can speak, geez!
All three cookies go silent, looking up at Y/N cookie with visible concern as they sigh.
Y/N cookie: So originally, he supposed to die. I'm not gonna go into too much detail cuz that's way too many spoilers but yeah, he dies. I was admittedly hoping it wouldn't come to that since a whole lot of dialogue was changed, but I guess there odds of the story changing were pretty low.
Gingerbrave: W-when does it happen?! Maybe we can stop it?!
Y/N cookie: Considering how long the fight's been going I'd say right about-
Just then there was a yell of pain from the battle grounds, causing all the cookies to look at the source. Surprise surprise, Elder faerie was dying.
Y/N cookie: Now...
The four went to the scene. (skipping the whole using the guardians strength part because it's gonna take forever for me to finish this story if I don't.)
Y/N cookie: Can't you heal him or something, Mystic flour cookie?
Mystic flour cookie: No.
Y/N cookie: Why not-
Mystic flour cookie: I'm not about to interfere with a canon event.
Y/N cookie: Ah- fair.
Burning Spice cookie: And so the old fool dies. And yet, I still feel nothing.
Y/N cookie: Wait is that a ref-
White Lily cookie: WHY ARE YOU GUYS SO NOCHALANT ABOUT THIS?! I JUST BECAME A GUARDIAN FOR TREES SAKE!
Moonflower Faerie: You'll get over it.
White Lily cookie: Wait- really?
Moonflower faerie: No- that's gonna haunt you for weeks to come, trust me.
White Lily cookie: oh-
Dark Cacao cookie (Dragon lord): Now, let us make haste and seal that wretched beast once and for all.
Y/N cookie: He's gonna be back in- like, Beast yeast episode 7
Burning spice + Mystic flour: What?-
Y/N cookie: Nothing- let's just go!
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menodoramoon · 5 hours ago
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She can't help but give a half-humored smile. Almost fair, they had said. Understandable. It was always somewhat uneven. Though, she knows what they mean. Perhaps she had all the magical defenses, but he could kill her easily. She could not come close without corrupted intervention.
The inside of her wrist begins to sting again, pangs of dread echoing in Menodora's heartbeat.
She can see the way he shifts as he touches to the wound on his shoulder. The one she had left there. Her loss of control haunts her now, the way that she had let go of her restraint enough to threaten him. Would she have done the same to anyone else who brought those harsh -- maybe -- truths upon her? Her feelings had been hurt but shouldn't be enough to want to cause harm to anyone. To kill or maim or injure. What kind of Countess was she to do something like that, to someone she at one point had sworn, as a person of Mjaunie, to protect.
Once upon a time, she had sworn to them that she would be a different sort of person.
It felt like that grief was mine, Moon doesn't say, because to replay those memories wouldn't be worth it. It brings them back to that cycle and she doesn't want that. Of harm to each other -- her oblivious nature which irks him, his vicious tongue. How had the two of them ever been friends with these key differences in who they are as people?
She'd looked up to him. They'd been under her power, even if she hadn't realized it at the time. The civilized monster of Mjaunie, aiding the lords and ladies by leveraging their understanding of history and politics. He was a good Monster, she was told. When he turned on her, it felt like a personal betrayal. But it's not so easy, is it?
He rejects her offer to pay for the damages, and while she opens her mouth to protest, she can sense it's far from a mere formality. The refusal is not a performative action, asking Menodora to come back and insist. Tófi was never that way anyhow.
Simply, Menodora nods, accepting. If they were to ask, she'd acquiesce immediately. But for now, she would leave it alone.
Moon's face burns with a subtle shame as she tries to steady her previously rage-filled breathing. As she tries to settle her elevated heart rate. She is angry and angst-ridden but it's not fair for her to feel so hurt when she had quite literally stabbed Tófi for stating things that, while having strung, were true. At least to the degree that Tófi believed them to be true.
"I'm not asking for an apology," Menodora says, meaning it. She flexes her fingers, where her daggers had begun to burn the inside of her fingers. Or at least gave the illusion of such a thing.
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He steps towards her as that anguish takes over and she can't help but flinch slightly, taking a half step back. They made no move to hurt her, yet that didn't mean they couldn't. They had done so with their tone and harsh words. She is still reeling, but it's her own mistrust that betrays her. And for that, Menodora is deeply frustrated.
'I should have some ibuprofen somewhere in the kitchen,' they say as they rest their hand on her shoulder. Funny, she thinks. The same one with the phantom scars. But that's not something she'll bring up. It was merely a dream.
Has the darkness spread further up her arms? She feels a slight despair as the stains remind her exactly what she's traded to get them here.
Yes, her and Tófi's friendship, but any semblance of her sense of self as well. Every time she thinks she could be a better person, she's dragged back to the memory of that day.
Isn't that so self-pitying? Tófi wouldn't approve, and neither would mother, she expects.
Still, it hurts. It leaves a slight burning in her fingertips, unrelated to the knives. And pricks under the skin, like it was magic wanting to spill out the same way light does.
It's not shadow magic, something she could control if she only dedicated herself. It's something deeper, a flow of magic that feels unnatural within her body.
"I suppose I attacked you more literally," Menodora murmurs. They don't apologize. It doesn't evade her notice. They'd always been that way, the implication of a thing that was not meant.
Even now, they're concerned for her. She nods, a bit unsteadily. Instead of the half-sob, she's now wracked with an aching headache. Was it the feeling of being weighed down by that old magic, or simply an over-excited over-exertion.
Menodora glances around, looking for something to steady herself. It's only Tófi that she can learn on at this moment. So, she swallows her pride and does so, trying to relax her body and lean slightly into the hand that rests on her shoulder. Trying not to sway slightly. She feels ill and unwell and guilty. Not so bad as to see stars or small, dancing lights, or to see the edge of consciousness, but she feels the need to close her eyes.
She won't. Not yet.
"And what, dear Torvald," She murmurs, wincing slightly at the pinging headache that was forming, "makes such a biting performance necessary?"
She's not exactly looking for an answer, but it's an interesting consideration.
"I'm feeling… a little dizzy, Tófi," she says. finally bringing a hand to press against her temple. "Would you mind terribly if I rested for a moment so long as I promise not to set any more of your possessions ablaze…?"
@ofseptarsis
genfødte sandheder || Tófi & Moon
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skyloftian-nutcase · 4 months ago
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Me: Do you have pointed ears or not? Ganondorf: Yes and no. Me: IT HAS TO BE ONE OR THE OTHER DUDE. Ganondorf: Well… I didn’t have them in Ocarina of Time. Me: Ok, so— Ganondorf: But they were pointed in Wind Waker and Twilight Princess. Me: HOW DOES THAT MAKE SENSE
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inkskinned · 4 months ago
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the other day we were talking about balance beams because you said that your family had one of those cool winch ones that wrap around trees to make a high wire. even though i was pretty good i had to quit gymnastics at 12 because we couldn't afford dance and gymnastics but. i had something-other.
and i got excited because i think it's a funny story. i didn't have a door for about 4 years. 13-17, or there about. i only got it back because i replaced it myself.
i think my dad took it off the hinges just because his very-macho friend david had said - i do this to punish my kids. and then about a week later it was down on the ground and then eventually rotting in a shed. i used to visit it on occasion and tilt it between two boxes so i could try to walk across the side of it. i have a scar on my foot from attempting the act of balance-beam fancy dancing. it's shaped like a crescent moon. a hinge sliced into my skin when the whole thing slipped out from underneath me.
and you looked at me and you said - what the fuck?
and i said, do you want to see? because i thought the thing you were replying to was the injury. i was already undoing my shoelaces.
you're supposed to have a door, you said slowly. you were a teenager. you - i've seen your house. you lived at the end of the hall.
i didn't understand the problem. so? i wriggled out of my shoe and then my sock.
so, you said it gently, which made me slow down. you said it in the way people tell me that i experienced something bad and i have no idea that it was supposed to be something-else instead. anyone coming down the stairs or in the hallway could see directly into your room. you were in a fishbowl for four years, am i understanding that correctly?
i stared at you, and then said the other things: well, it wasn't so bad. i just wore a towel and tucked myself into a corner to change. i could always just change in the bathroom. privacy didn't really exist for any of us. i wasn't allowed to decorate so it wasn't really my room anyway. i didn't have a lot of things growing up; so it's not like i minded having a semi-public space. my siblings left me alone if i needed them to. what's the big deal anyway.
this is accidentally what emotional vampires incorrectly label as a "trauma dump". this is accidentally how you learn that my house was actually unsafe. i don't even consider this a problem, because everything else was so much worse, in a way. i didn't know it was supposed to be different. at the time, i didn't know what privacy was. i just lied about most stuff and got good at hiding in public. i haven't ever lied about this because i didn't know it was supposed to be different. i am 31.
you looked pale and ready to throw up. you had a right to a door for your room. you were a kid. someone should have helped you.
i was busy examining the sole of my foot. the scar really does look like the moon.
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021894s · 2 months ago
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LOVE NEXT DOOR - p.sh
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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
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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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yanderenightmare · 6 months ago
Text
TW: angst, toxic traits, somewhat bullying, breakup
fem reader
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You’re his first girlfriend. He’d never bothered with anything serious before—it seemed too messy to trifle with. He doesn’t know why he suddenly decided. Suppose he’d been feeling a little bored, and something within him saw you as a fool-proof opportunity.
It wasn’t because you were anything special. Actually, it was more the opposite. You didn’t seem like too big of a risk. You were just a normal, honest, nice person—a bit of a loser, too, if he was being honest. He could do a lot better and pick someone of the same caliber as him, someone with a cooler style and presence, but then he’d only get caught up in the competition.
You were more to his appetite—a dorky, blushy lil’ nerd who giggled nervously at everything he said. In other words, no competition at all. You’d never dare break his heart because you frankly couldn’t afford it. And he found solace in that imbalance—knowing he held all the cards and that you could only be grateful he’d chosen you.
At least, that had been what he’d thought. But then, here you are, holding his hands from across the table in a cute little sundae café, telling him how this just can’t work anymore.
He’s confused for a whole minute before it sinks in.
You’re breaking up with him.
He’s confused afterward, too.
You’re breaking up with him?
That can’t be right. You must be joking. He almost laughs, almost cackles, but ends up staying completely silent. Something about that pitiful look in your eye makes his throat tight, and he almost thinks he’s going to cry instead. 
You’re breaking up with him. You, with him. His foot starts to tap. Have you hit your head or something? You’re dressed in a hoodie, for crying out loud, with not an ounce of make-up on—effortless, as if his perception of you wasn’t any of your concern while you’re fucking breaking up with him.
No way. There’s just no way. You must be confused about something, is all. There’s absolutely no way you’re doing this.
“What are you talking about?” It comes angry. Louder than he’d intended, enough to make you jolt in your seat. A couple of heads even turn your way. You wait for them to turn back before answering.
“I just think we’re a bit too different. And… I don’t know…” You were trying to find ways of telling him you weren’t in love with him but ended up deciding it was unnecessary—it wasn’t exactly something he needed to hear even though you had a lot you could say.
You’re rude and arrogant and treat me like some rescue pet you’ve nurtured back to health. You act like you’re embarrassed to be with me even though you’re the one without any friends. You’re selfish and spoiled and—
“If you don’t know, then there’s nothing to talk about. Quit being silly.” He has a furrow between his brows as he picks up the pink menu between the two of you, scanning the different types of milkshakes you could share and forget all about it. After all, you weren’t breaking up with him—that would just be absurd. “Let’s get strawberry.”
“No—”
“Guess we could get mango if you want that instead—”
“I’m not sharing drinks with you—”
“What? You tryna lose weight or something? Not like anyone but me is gonna see you when all you wear are those baggy hoodies all the time. Speaking of which, you should wear mine instead, they’d suit you better—”
“Listen.” You stop his rambling. “I’m not sharing drinks, and I’m not wearing your clothes. I’m not being silly, either. I’m being serious. It’s over—”
“No, it’s not.” His fist bangs against the table—the look in his eye on edge and twitchy. “I asked you why, and you had no good reason—so it’s not, not until you convince me.”
You had wanted to avoid it, but it seems he wouldn’t allow you the grace to spare him. That being said, you hadn’t meant to be so brutally honest…
“You’re a narcissist. You don’t treat me like a girlfriend. I’m more like a charity case or some type of experiment to you. Half the time, it feels as though you’re just playing a game with everyone in your life like pawns for you to shuffle around the board as you see fit.” You’re the one with the furrowed brows now, unable to bite your tongue as you’d kept it in all this time. “I think you should seek help and get your controlling tendencies straightened out before having any type of relationship. Or don’t. In any case, I don’t think I’m the right girl for you.”
There’s a silence. The chatter of the café seems distant. You feel half inclined to apologize as you look at him and stare down the glassy tabletop as if trying to find his reflection for comfort—but then he beats you to the punch.
“You’re right…” he starts softly, mustering the words, and you’re almost proud to see him take it so well, but then there’s a viscousness to his next words. “You’re not the right girl for me.”
When he looks up again, his face is warped—callous and seemingly disgusted by the sight of you. Something about it even seems to lash out at you, seeking revenge.
“I can’t believe I thought I saw something in you,” he sighs. “Turns out you’re exactly what everyone warned me you would be—just a plane-boring old Jane. What a joke—wasting so much time on something so worthless. Forget breaking up with me, I should have broken up with you a long time ago.”
He gets up in a rush and bears over the table, both palms laid flat upon the surface.
“Charity case?” he seethes, then conjures a fake laugh and an even faker grin. “I couldn’t have put it better myself. Enjoy sitting here alone like the loser you are.”
And even though you’re the one watching him walk away while ordering a chocolate sundae for yourself, you can’t help but feel sorry for the poor guy… 
That had been the most emotion you’d ever witnessed come from him.
Obviously, he doesn’t take it very well, stumbling through the café before bursting out the door, but even he’s surprised by how disheveled it had made him. He’s hyperventilating when the fresh air hits him, almost sprinting to his car so that he can lock himself inside it.
But the car only makes it worse as he’s far from alone in there. You’re everywhere. On the hood, waiting for him with a smile. In the rearview mirror, waving at him. In the seat next to him with a pout, asking if you can stay over. In the backseat, naked with a coy twinkle in your eye.
He knows! He has some of your underwear at home—he’ll threaten to pass them around campus unless you beg him to take you back. No, what’s he thinking!? You’ll never come back to him that way. Fuck, what can he do, what’s he supposed to do!? He just called you worthless—what that fuck was he thinking?!
The tears startle him as they drip down and splash upon his whitening knuckles, where he grips the wheel for dear life even as the car stays completely still—safe and sound in the same plot.
There’s a light pink lip balm on the dash. Yours. You must have left it there—maybe on purpose? No… you don’t play games like that. You’d been honest in the café. The fact terrifies him—his heart seems to want to reject it at all costs, the way it tears in his chest.
He picks the slim pink stick up and rolls it around in his hand, which can’t seem to stop shaking. You’d sat on his lap in this very seat, laughing at something dumb he’d said while applying the very same balm on his lip—kissing his forehead while saying something sweet. He knows it wasn’t, but he imagines you’d whispered that you loved him.
When he smears the balm around his lips this time, he imagines kissing you and your soft lips and that everpresent smile he never bothered telling you was pretty.
He’s such an idiot. The birds in the parking lot take flight at the jostling of his car, but no one hears the roar.
And as he sits there in the following silence, wallowing in his own self-pity and regret, he can’t help but feel like the lead of some angsty teen romance.
And like the lead in an angsty teen romance, he swears… whatever it takes… he will win you back.
You will be his again.
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♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks ♡ JJK – Gojo, Naoya, some young type of Sukuna, or Toji ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Reo ♡ AOT – Eren
♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist
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mephisto-reporting · 10 days ago
Text
Jealousy, Jealousy with Sylus
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Plot: Reader becomes jealous of Sylus and MC's closeness, distancing herself and seeking comfort in another LI. Sylus notices her growing distance and takes action. Based on this request. Pairing: Sylus x Non MC reader Content Warning: Insecurities, injuries, mention of blood, jealousy, angst, hurt/comfort Note: Reader is not the MC of the game. I think I got quite carried away writing this because I am a sucker for angst.
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The faint hum of the air condition echoed through the Onychinus base, its opulent, luxurious atmosphere doing little to distract from the knot twisting in your stomach. You stood across from Luke and Kieran, their crow masks tilted slightly as if to gauge your reaction.
"Boss isn't here today," Luke said casually, his hands tucked into his pockets. "He’s in Linkon, Boss man’s got other things to handle."
Kieran, his mask tilted slightly to the side, gave a confused grunt. "But I thought he was meeting with her...?"
Luke raised a brow, correcting him. "No, no, he was meeting with Miss Hunter."
Miss Hunter.
The words hit you like a sledgehammer, even though they shouldn’t have. You were a hunter too, an informant who had been feeding Sylus critical intel on the association’s movements for two years now. But she was different. Special.
Captain Jenna’s star pupil, with her rare Anhaunsen-class Resonance Evol, was someone Sylus had spent weeks trying to connect with, both literally and emotionally. You weren’t blind to the necessity of it; resonating with her was crucial for his goals, ones he hadn’t entirely shared with you but that you trusted him to pursue.
Trusted him. Loved him.
You forced a tight smile. "Thanks for the update. I'll let you two get back to it."
Luke and Kieran exchanged a glance, but you were already walking away, the echo of your boots swallowed by the hum of the base.
The ride back to Linkon was supposed to clear your mind. It didn’t.
The cool wind whipped against your face, but all it did was sting the tears pooling in your eyes. The road stretched endlessly ahead, yet the pressure in your chest only grew. Sylus hadn’t seen you in two months. Two months of unanswered calls and messages reduced to half-hearted responses when they came at all.
You understood why he was focused on her. She was crucial to his plans. She was everything you weren’t: poised, pretty, powerful, and, most importantly, someone he needed.
But understanding didn’t make it hurt any less.
The world blurred around you as your thoughts spiraled. You had always known your place in Sylus’ life. You were the informant, the quiet insider who helped him stay two steps ahead of the hunters. Somewhere along the way, though, you had fallen for him. For the man who wasn’t as cold and calculated as others believed. It had been two long years since you started working with Sylus. Two years filled with secrecy, lies, and hidden truths. But over those years, you'd found yourself tangled in emotions for him that you couldn’t shake. Sylus, with his cold authority, his dangerous smile, his complex nature… He was all you could think about. He wasn’t as dismissive as people thought. He had a way of looking at you when no one was watching—a fleeting softness that you cherished, even if you couldn’t be certain if it was real.
And now, it felt like you were losing him.
Your bike screeched to a halt near Meow’s Café. You hadn’t planned to stop, but the sight of the familiar storefront tugged at you. Perhaps a coffee and a moment to breathe would help.
The glass windows glinted under the midday sun, and your breath hitched as you looked inside.
Sylus was there. With her.
They sat at a small table, a deck of Kitty cards spread between them. He was leaning back, his smirk in full display as she laughed at something he said. It was the kind of laugh that reached her eyes, the kind of moment you had only ever dreamed of sharing with him.
You froze, your hands tightening on your helmet.
For a fleeting second, you wanted to march inside and demand answers. To ask him why he had time to play cards but couldn’t return your calls. To tell him how his absence had hollowed you out.
But you didn’t.
He looks so happy... you thought bitterly, swallowing the lump in your throat.
The truth gnawed at you. Every interaction, every ignored message, every unread notification on your phone—it was because of her. Because Sylus had more important things to do. She was the one who mattered now. She was the one who he had to resonate with, had to bond with, had to make fall for him.
And you? You were just a pawn, a tool—forgotten. And there you were. Alone. Watching through a window, the warmth of the cafe contrasting the cold, empty feeling in your stomach. He hadn’t even bothered to let you know he was back. He was with her. You couldn’t bear to watch any longer, but you couldn’t look away either. It felt like the world was spinning faster than you could catch up, and you were left stranded, dizzy, and abandoned.
Instead, you turned away, your chest tight and vision blurred. The world felt suffocating, the weight of your unspoken feelings dragging you down as you climbed back onto your bike.
It was for the best, right?
You couldn’t keep doing this. You couldn’t keep waiting for him, couldn’t keep fooling yourself that there was something real between you two. He was busy. He had her. And you.. well, you didn’t even know why you bothered anymore.
The ride back to your apartment was a blur of taillights and muffled engine noise. The city’s glow that usually brought you some sense of comfort felt glaring and alien tonight. By the time you made it inside, the suffocating silence of your small space was overwhelming.
For someone who prided herself on being strong and independent, you barely made it to your couch before the sobs overtook you. Hot, angry tears streamed down your face as you clutched a pillow to your chest, trying in vain to keep your cries muffled. It felt as though something within you had been ripped apart, leaving an aching, hollow void that throbbed with every thought of him.
You replayed the image of him at the café in your mind, over and over, as if some part of you wanted to punish yourself further. His smirk. Her laughter. The ease of their interaction. It contrasted so sharply with the heaviness that now weighed on your heart.
Every chime of your phone made you flinch, hope briefly sparking to life, only to be cruelly snuffed out when the screen lit up with messages from others—work updates, pointless notifications, or friends checking in. Nothing from him. Of course, there wouldn’t be.
You wiped at your face, your chest tightening as you scrolled through the last few conversations you’d had with Sylus. They were short, clipped responses. A "thanks" here, an "I’m busy" there. You’d convinced yourself for weeks that he wasn’t brushing you off, that his focus was just elsewhere. But deep down, you knew. You’d always known.
You weren’t as important to him as he was to you.
That realization settled over you like a heavy blanket, suffocating and final. And yet, you tried to convince yourself it was okay. He doesn’t owe me anything, you told yourself, though the thought only twisted the knife deeper. He’s free to choose who he spends his time with.
But it didn’t stop the tears.
The days that followed were a haze of exhaustion and numbness. You threw yourself into your work, spending long hours tracking and confronting wanderers. The physical exhaustion helped, even if just a little. At least when you were in the middle of a fight, the pain in your chest was drowned out by the adrenaline coursing through your veins.
Still, the nights were the worst. Alone in your apartment, the quiet crept in like a suffocating fog. You tried to distract yourself—reading, cleaning, even organizing old mission reports. Anything to keep your mind from drifting back to him. But it was impossible.
Each time you saw his name in your contacts, you hesitated. Your thumb hovered over the call button more times than you cared to admit, but the fear of hearing his indifferent voice stopped you every time. What would you even say? That you missed him? That you wanted to see him? That you’d fallen for him, even though you knew it would never be mutual?
No. You couldn’t do that to yourself.
You worked harder, pushed yourself further. Every wanderer you fought became a stand-in for your frustrations, your insecurities. You told yourself that if you could just stay busy enough, the ache would go away. But no matter how many missions you completed or how many late nights you spent staring at your phone, the weight in your chest never fully lifted.
By the end of the week, you were exhausted—physically and emotionally. But you were surviving. Barely. The bell above the door jingled softly as you pushed into the chocolatier’s shop, the rich scent of cocoa and vanilla wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The day had been grueling—hours of chasing leads, a narrow escape from a particularly aggressive wanderer, and not a single bite of food since morning. Your stomach growled in protest, a sharp reminder that you’d been running on fumes for too long.
Rows of meticulously crafted chocolates gleamed beneath the glass counter, their perfect swirls and shimmering finishes almost too beautiful to eat. Almost. You leaned forward slightly, scanning the display, your reflection ghosting over the pristine surface.
Dark chocolate truffles. Raspberry ganache. Caramel hazelnut clusters. The options were overwhelming, and your indecision felt heavier than it should’ve. Your chest still ached from the lingering emotions you’d been suppressing all week. The quiet joy of the shop felt alien, like stepping into a world you no longer belonged to.
Just pick something and go, you thought, your fingers tightening on the strap of your bag. But the choices seemed endless, each one whispering promises of sweetness you weren’t sure you deserved.
"If you’re struggling," a soft, measured voice spoke behind you, "the pistachio crème chocolate is an excellent choice."
Startled, you turned, your gaze falling on a man standing a few steps away. Tall and lean, he exuded an understated confidence that was both intimidating and captivating. Dark hair fell in against his forehead, and sharp hazel-green eyes, softened by gold flecks peered at you from behind thin-framed glasses. His white doctor’s coat was open, revealing a simple black shirt beneath, and he held a small paper bag in one hand.
You blinked, caught off guard by both his suggestion and his presence. "Oh, uh… thank you," you stammered, trying not to sound as flustered as you felt. "I’ll… I’ll try that."
The shopkeeper nodded and carefully packed your selection as you stole another glance at the stranger. There was an air of calm authority about him, a quiet assurance that made you feel oddly exposed, like he could see straight through you.
He waited patiently as the shopkeeper handed you your bag, but just as you were about to leave, his voice cut through the quiet again—this time, more direct. "Chocolates shouldn’t be your first meal of the day."
The statement was delivered without malice, his tone stoic and matter-of-fact, yet it hit like a stone to the chest. Your lips parted in shock, the question forming before you could stop it: How does he know? But before you could say anything, he was already moving toward the door. The bells jingled softly as it closed behind him, leaving you standing frozen in place. The stranger’s words lingered, intertwining with the rest of your messy emotions. Your fingers clenched the small bag of chocolates as you tried to process the brief encounter.
A soft gleam on the floor caught your attention, breaking your spiraling thoughts. A wallet, its sleek leather worn but well-kept, lay just inches from where the man had stood. You knelt and picked it up, your heart thudding as you opened it to check for identification.
The name embossed on his hospital ID was like a jolt: Dr. Zayne. Your eyes widened. Doctor Zayne? The name was familiar—a renowned surgeon whose skills and precision were legendary, often described as a miracle worker. You’d imagined someone older, more weathered, not… this.
For a moment, you stared at the ID, piecing together the puzzle of the composed, enigmatic man who had called you out so effortlessly. You tried the number listed on a card tucked into his wallet, but it rang unanswered, the sterile monotone only adding to your frustration.
"Of course, he wouldn’t answer," you muttered under your breath, chewing your lip as you debated your next move. The idea of keeping his wallet overnight felt wrong, and leaving it here in the shop seemed equally careless.
That left one option.
The hospital loomed ahead as you approached, its towering structure illuminated against the evening sky. Anxiety gnawed at your insides, twisting with every step you took through the sterile white halls. You weren’t sure why you felt so on edge—maybe it was the overwhelming sense of inadequacy that had been haunting you lately, or maybe it was the lingering impression of Zayne’s knowing gaze.
At the reception desk, you hesitated, gripping the wallet tightly as you cleared your throat. "Hi, um, I’m here to return something for Dr. Zayne. He… accidentally dropped this."
The receptionist barely looked up, taking the wallet with a polite but indifferent smile. "Dr. Zayne isn’t in right now. I’ll make sure he gets this when he’s back."
"Oh," You nodded, murmuring a quick thanks before retreating back toward the exit. You thought nothing of this interaction as you left. You did what you thought was right and left the hospital back towards your apartment.
The days blurred together in a haze of work and routine. You buried yourself in assignments from the Hunter’s Association, throwing yourself into dangerous missions with a single-minded intensity. Anything to keep your mind occupied.
Sylus messaged you once during that time, his tone professional as he asked for updates regarding a lead he was tracking. You’d responded quickly, sticking strictly to business. No pleasantries, no banter—just the information he needed. He didn’t press, didn’t call you out for your uncharacteristic coldness. Maybe he didn’t notice. Or maybe he did and chose not to say anything.
That night, you jogged through the dimly lit streets, your breath fogging in the cool air as you tried to exorcise the restless energy gnawing at you. The rhythmic slap of your sneakers against the pavement was grounding, steady. Jogging had always been your go-to, a way to clear your head and silence the endless stream of "what-ifs" and "if-onlys" that plagued your mind.
You shook your head, annoyed at yourself. There was no point in dwelling. Sylus wasn’t the kind of person to give you what you wanted, and even if he did, could you trust it? Could you trust him?
But no amount of movement could completely shake Sylus from your thoughts.
His voice, his presence—it clung to you, even now.
Why didn’t he ask how I’ve been? Why didn’t I?
The sound of skidding tires yanked you out of your spiraling thoughts.
“Look out!”
Before you could process the warning, a cyclist veered wildly toward you, their momentum too strong to stop. There wasn’t even time to brace yourself. The impact hit like a freight train, and suddenly, you were on the ground, tangled with the bike and its rider. Pain blossomed sharp and hot in your knees as the asphalt scraped them raw.
For a moment, you just lay there, stunned. The world tilted unsteadily, the city lights smearing together like a watercolor painting.
“Hey, you okay?” The cyclist’s voice snapped you back. They were scrambling off you, helmet slightly askew but otherwise unscathed. You shook your head to clear it, wincing as you sat up. You pushed yourself up, shaking the dizziness from your head, and checked on the cyclist who had crashed into you. They were already scrambling to their feet, looking slightly dazed but otherwise unharmed, their helmet and guards having done their job.
“I’m fine,” you managed, even as your knees throbbed in protest. “Are you?”
“Yeah, thanks to the gear,” they said, pulling off their helmet to inspect a small crack along its surface. “Guess it did its job.”
Relief washed over you. “Good. Let me just—”
“Wait.” A different voice cut in, firm but calm. You stood there, still trying to regain your bearings when a figure appeared beside you, moving with a grace that immediately caught your attention. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw who it was. Dr. Zayne. The same man who had crossed your path in the chocolatier's shop just days ago. His sharp eyes locked onto yours, and for a split second, everything else seemed to vanish. His expression shifted from mild surprise to something more concerned as he took in your state.
Without saying a word, he immediately began assessing you, his gaze narrowing at the blood now staining your knees. You winced, feeling the sting of the cuts that had begun to bloom with a fiery intensity, but you were determined not to show it. You were used to pain—used to the sharp discomfort that came with being a hunter. You didn’t need help. You could handle this on your own. You’d always been able to.
But Dr. Zayne wasn’t having any of it.
His voice, low and steady, broke through the haze of your thoughts. "You’re bleeding. Those need first aid," he said firmly, his frown deepening as he glanced at your scraped knees. "Sit. Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute."
You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him you were fine, but the words caught in your throat. He wasn’t asking. His tone, though gentle, was authoritative—demanding in its own quiet way. There was something about the way he carried himself, that calm, unflinching presence, that made it impossible to argue.
"I’m fine, I am a hunter." you managed to say, your voice rougher than you intended. "I can handle it at home. Really." You tried to force a reassuring smile
“Is this a hunter thing?” he interrupted, one brow arching skeptically. “Are all of you this stubborn about basic care, or is it just you?”
The words should have been biting, but his tone was almost... patient. Like he was accustomed to dealing with difficult people.
You flushed, suddenly hyper-aware of the sting in your knees and the heat of his gaze. “I’m not being stubborn,” you muttered. “I just don’t want to bother anyone over something so small.”
“Small injuries have a way of turning into bigger problems,” he said, folding his arms. “And I’m not bothered. As a doctor, I’m asking you to wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Without waiting for your protest, he turned and strode off, leaving you no room to argue.
You sat stiffly on the bench, gripping the edge as the minutes dragged on. The ache in your knees was nothing compared to the gnawing discomfort blooming in your chest. Anxiety clawed at you, whispering insidious doubts.
He’s wasting his time on you.He probably thinks you’re pathetic and weak.Why couldn’t you have just gotten up and left?
Your fingers curled into fists, the tension radiating through your body.
The sound of footsteps interrupted your spiraling thoughts, and Dr. Zayne was back, carrying a small first aid kit. He knelt in front of you without a word, his hands steady as he cleaned the cuts on your knees. The gentle pressure of his fingers as he worked felt almost surreal. His silence wasn’t uncomfortable—it was just… calm. You found yourself drawn to it, to the quiet that seemed to settle around him.
"You’re lucky," he said, glancing up at you as he bandaged your knees. "That could’ve been a lot worse."
You nodded, the words caught in your throat. There were so many things you wanted to say, things you wanted to ask him, but you didn’t know where to start. So you remained silent, watching as he finished his work, his hands moving with the practiced precision of someone who had seen too many injuries to count.
When he was done, he straightened up and met your gaze. "You should be more careful," he said softly, his voice a little lighter than before, though there was still a note of concern underlying his words. "Next time, don’t run so late at night. You never know what could happen."
You forced a tight smile, the words feeling like they were coming from someone else. "I’ll keep that in mind," you said, your voice quieter now.
Dr. Zayne took a step back after finishing the bandages, his sharp gaze softening ever so slightly as he packed the first aid kit. You glanced at him, your mouth opening to thank him, but before you could get the words out, he said, almost in unison, “Thank you.”
Both of you froze, the simultaneous expressions of gratitude hanging awkwardly in the air. A surprised laugh slipped out of you, breaking the tension.
“You first,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
You swallowed, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “I was just going to say thank you for… you know, helping with this.” You gestured vaguely toward your knees, the bandages clinging to your skin. “You didn’t have to.”
The moment stretched between you, awkward yet somehow comforting. Zayne gave a small, almost amused smile at the simultaneous gratitude, but his gaze softened when it landed on you, his concern still present.
"Thank you for returning my wallet," he said, his tone steady but with a hint of appreciation.
His words caught you off guard. “Oh, right! That. It wasn’t a big deal, really.” You fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve, avoiding his gaze. “I found it at the chocolatier shop. I figured it was better to bring it to the hospital than leave it lying around.”
He nodded thoughtfully, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “I appreciate it. Not many people would go out of their way like that.”
You tried not to let his kindness throw you off, but it wasn’t easy. There was something about Zayne that made you feel... small in a way you didn’t like to feel. He was kind, yes, but that kindness made you wonder if you were deserving of it. Why should you be the one he cared about?
But before you could dwell on that any further, his voice cut through your swirling thoughts.
"Have you eaten today?" His tone was light, but there was an edge of sincerity beneath it, one that made your stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with hunger. It reminded you of that conversation in the shop, of how he had so effortlessly read through your tiredness.
The sheepish look that crossed your face must’ve been obvious, because Zayne sighed, the sound so deep that it almost felt like a reprimand. He pinched the bridge of his nose in a gesture that was both familiar and surprisingly endearing.
“You’ve got to take care of yourself,” he said, his voice almost too gentle for the weight of his words. “It’s not healthy to go without food, especially if you’re going to keep running around like you hunters do.”
You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him it wasn’t a big deal, but Zayne didn’t give you the chance.
"There’s a diner close by. It’s the least I can do to thank you for returning my wallet."
You shook your head instinctively, trying to backpedal. "It’s really not necessary," you said, but Zayne wasn’t having any of it. His eyes were firm, and there was an undeniable warmth behind them that almost made you feel guilty for refusing.
"Yes, it is," he replied, his tone steady but with a hint of finality. "Now, come on.”
You hesitated for a moment, the unease building in your chest like a brick wall, but the thought of Zayne’s calm, commanding presence made it impossible to say no. So, with a quiet sigh, you relented.
"I’ll pay," you muttered as he led the way, the words almost reflexive. You always felt like you had to pay your way—like it was your responsibility to do so, especially with someone who had helped you, even in the smallest of ways. You were used to standing on your own two feet.
Zayne only gave you a side glance, his lips quirking up in the barest of smiles. "No, you won’t. It’s my thank you, remember?"
The diner wasn’t far from where you had been, a cozy, low-lit place with a soft hum of quiet conversations and the clink of silverware against plates. The familiar scent of warm food—steak, mashed potatoes, and the unmistakable aroma of fresh bread—immediately filled the air as you stepped inside. You followed Zayne to a small booth in the back, the vinyl seats creaking under your weight as you slid in.
You wanted to say something—thank you, maybe—but the words felt stuck, trapped somewhere in the pit of your stomach, along with everything else that had been piling up for weeks. Zayne didn’t seem to notice, his focus already turning to the menu as he gestured for you to pick something.
You wanted to ask him more, to understand him in the same way you understood the empty streets you ran through, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just end up looking foolish. So, instead, you stared at the menu in front of you, unable to focus on the choices, as your mind churned with questions that had no answers.
Zayne ordered for both of you, his voice low as he made his choices, and when he looked at you, you caught a flicker of something—perhaps curiosity, or was it concern? It was hard to tell.
"You should eat more regularly," he said again, as though the words were a reminder he had to repeat for his own peace of mind. You nodded, letting the silence fill the space between you for a moment.
The food arrived, warm and satisfying, and you took a bite, surprised at how hungry you were despite the earlier denials. Zayne watched you for a moment, his gaze softening as you ate, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet it. His concern, his care—it felt too much. You weren’t used to people worrying about you.
But as the meal went on, you found yourself starting to relax, the initial tension loosening from your shoulders. Zayne was easy to talk to, his calm, steady presence settling you in a way you hadn’t expected. By the end of the meal, you felt... lighter.
"Call me Zayne," he said when the check came, his voice quiet but sincere.
You blinked, a little caught off guard by the request. "Zayne?" you echoed, testing the name on your tongue.
"Yes," he replied with a small, patient smile. "It’s easier than 'Dr. Zayne,' don’t you think?"
You blinked, taken aback. “Are you sure? I mean, you’ve earned the title—”
“And I’ll still have it in the hospital,” he interrupted, amusement flickering in his eyes. “But here, it’s just Zayne.”
You nodded slowly, testing the name in your mind. It felt strange, almost too personal. But there was something grounding about it, too.
By the time dessert arrived, the knot of anxiety in your chest had loosened considerably. The warmth of the diner, the steady cadence of his voice, and the shared laughter over a poorly made joke had a way of pulling you out of your own head. For the first time in what felt like weeks, you weren’t obsessing over your failures or doubts.
As you finished your meal, Zayne pulled out his phone and slid it across the table. “Here,” he said simply. “Add your number. In case you ever need anything.”
You hesitated, the gesture feeling far more intimate than it probably was. But his expression was patient, expectant, and you found yourself entering your contact information before you could overthink it. When you handed the phone back, his lips twitched into a faint smile.
“Thanks again for returning my wallet,” he said, his tone lighter now. “And for the company.”
You felt your cheeks flush, but this time, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “It’s not a problem,” you murmured, a small smile tugging at your lips.
As you stepped out of the diner and into the cool night air, a strange sense of calm settled over you. Zayne walked you to the corner where your paths would diverge, his presence steady and reassuring.
“Take care of yourself,” he said, his voice softer now, almost intimate.
“You too,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.
The diner’s warmth lingered even as you stepped into the cool night air. For the first time in what felt like weeks, your chest didn’t feel as tight, the oppressive weight that had been bearing down on you now lifting slightly. You still felt the ache of Sylus’ absence—a hollow, gnawing sensation that seemed to creep in whenever you let your guard down, but it wasn’t as suffocating as it had been. Instead, a new sensation fluttered in its place, tentative and fragile: excitement. It was strange to feel this way, to look forward to the possibility of a friendship formed under such unlikely circumstances. Zayne’s calm demeanor, his steady presence, had surprised you.
As you walked, the sound of fluttering wings caught your attention. Instinctively, your heart skipped, your mind jumping to Mephisto. You tilted your head to the dark sky, half-expecting to see the telltale silhouette of his familiar. But it was just a cluster of pigeons, their wings catching the faint glow of the streetlights as they soared away.
Right. Of course. It was unlikely that Sylus was watching you tonight.
You exhaled, a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and forced your thoughts away from him. Zayne had offered you a rare moment of normalcy, and you weren’t about to let your memories of Sylus overshadow that.
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The following weeks were a blur of activity, and before long, you found yourself stationed at an outpost on the outskirts of Linkon. A metaflux surge had disrupted the area, and the temporary makeshift hospital was bustling with injured workers, hunters, and even a few civilians caught in the chaos. The air was thick with tension, the metallic tang of metaflux faint but persistent, a reminder of the unseen dangers that lurked just beyond the safety of the encampment.
Zayne was assigned as the doctor for the outpost, and you often found yourself crossing paths with him. At first, your interactions were brief—a nod here, a shared glance there—but over time, you began to talk. It started with simple pleasantries, discussions about the metaflux readings or the influx of patients, but it wasn’t long before the conversations deepened.
You learned that Zayne had a dry sense of humor, his sharp wit often catching you off guard. He’d tease you about your stubbornness, and you’d retort with a quip about his overly serious nature. Despite his professionalism, there was a warmth to him, a quiet compassion that made him easy to trust. And though you’d never admit it, you found yourself looking forward to those moments of shared laughter, those fleeting glimpses of something lighter amidst the chaos.
But even as your friendship with Zayne grew, Sylus lingered at the edges of your thoughts, a shadow you couldn’t quite shake. The conversations you had with him were sparse and strictly work-related—updates from the Association, bits of intel you passed along to him. It felt transactional, a far cry from the intimacy you once shared. Yet, every time his name appeared on your screen, your heart still raced, betraying the fragile boundaries you’d tried to set.
One evening, a message from Sylus broke the monotony of your routine.
‘Come over tomorrow night, Darling. I have an exquisite wine I’d like you to try—procured it during a recent deal.’
The invitation was simple, almost casual. For a moment, you imagined it—the rich scent of wine filling the air, his sharp yet alluring gaze fixed on you as he poured you a glass. But reality quickly crept in, dragging you back to the present. You couldn’t go. You couldn’t risk it. Not when your heart was still so fragile, still aching in ways you didn’t want to admit.
You stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as your mind raced. The truth was, you wanted to see him. But you knew better. You had to keep your distance—for your own sake, if nothing else.
‘I’m tired..'
You typed, the words feeling hollow as they formed.
'Busy day tomorrow. Maybe another time.’
You hesitated before hitting send, the weight of the message pressing down on you. When his reply came, it was as simple as his invitation.
‘Okay.’
The finality of it hit you like a brick, and for a moment, you felt like your breath had been stolen away. He didn’t push. He didn’t argue. That empty “okay” hung in the air, leaving you with the quiet realization that, once again, you had lost yourself in the haze of someone else’s world.
You tried not to read too much into it, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he had already moved on. That he didn’t care enough to fight for your attention. Instead, it felt like you were just a passing thought, like an aftertaste that wasn’t worth savoring.
Miss Hunter. The words echoed in your mind. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the tears to stay behind your eyelids, but they pressed hard, a sting that never seemed to fully fade. You rubbed your forehead, trying to push away the thoughts. But even as you did, you couldn’t escape the suffocating feeling in your chest—the one that always came when you were reminded of how little you meant to him. You felt foolish, but you couldn’t help it. It was like you were always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to come back, to pull you back into his orbit with that practiced charm, that voice that made you feel wanted, if only for a little while.
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The dinner with Zayne had been a welcome reprieve. It had been two weeks since you last saw him, the demands of work pulling both of you in different directions. But tonight, seated across from him in a small, cozy bistro, you found solace in the familiar rhythm of your conversations. The mellow lights softened the sharp angles of his face as he recounted a mishap earlier in the week involving a particularly irritable patient.
His dry humor, paired with the subtle lift of his brow, drew a laugh from you—a genuine, light sound that felt foreign after the weight of recent days. For a while, the world outside blurred away. You weren’t Miss Hunter; you weren’t anything other than a person sharing a meal with a friend.
As the meal wound down, Zayne looked at you over the rim of his glass, his expression calm. “You’re doing better than when we first met.” he remarked softly.
You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Am I?”
He nodded. His calm demeanor always had a way of grounding you, and tonight was no exception.
The meal wrapped up with the two of you trading small updates and light banter. You paid for your half of the meal, Zayne insisting it wasn’t necessary, but you’d insisted back. There was a sense of normalcy here, something you weren’t willing to let go of easily. When you parted ways outside the diner, the night air was cool and quiet. Zayne’s warm farewell echoed softly in your ears as you waved goodbye and headed back toward your apartment.
As you walked, you felt lighter somehow. The stress of the past few weeks hadn’t vanished, but Zayne’s steady presence had reminded you of something important—moments of peace still existed, even in the chaos.
The faint scent of lavender greeted you as you unlocked your apartment door, a hint of the candle you’d left burning earlier. The lights were off, and the air felt too still—unnaturally so. Your heart skipped, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. A lump formed in your throat, panic curling its fingers around your chest.
You flicked the light switch, and the sudden brightness flooded the room, revealing the figure sitting on your couch. Sylus.
You froze. Your body stiffened, caught between fight or flight.
Your yelp of surprise filled the space, your pulse racing as you clutched the doorframe for support. “What—Sylus? What are you doing here?”
He was sitting on your couch, one arm draped casually along the backrest, his other hand resting on his knee. The dim light of the room softened the sharp edges of his face, but his expression was anything but gentle. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, tracked your every movement as if he were dissecting you with just a glance.
“How—what are you doing here?” you stammered, your voice shaky as your pulse raced.
Sylus didn’t respond right away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his gaze dragging over you slowly, deliberately. His silence was louder than any words he could have spoken, and it made your skin prickle.
“Darling,” he finally murmured, his voice low and smooth, laced with something you couldn’t quite name. “You look… exhausted.”
You blinked, still standing frozen by the door. His tone was soft, almost tender, but it was the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers tapped against his knee, that betrayed his underlying tension.
“Y-yeah,” you stammered, your voice wavering as you took a cautious step forward. “It’s been a long day. What are you doing here?”
Sylus leaned back, the leather of the couch creaking faintly under his weight. “A long day,” he echoed, his lips curving into a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yet you had time for dinner.”
“I…” you faltered, scrambling for a response. “It was just…”
“Just dinner,” he interrupted smoothly, his tone unreadable. “With… someone else.”
The air felt thick, charged with a tension that made your skin prickle. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words stuck in your throat. His eyes narrowed slightly, his expression still calm but his body language telling a different story. The way his fingers drummed against his knee, the slight clench of his jaw, the flicker of something dark in his gaze.
Your heart pounded, your thoughts racing. Why was he here? What did he want? And why did his presence—his very existence in your space—make your chest ache in that familiar, suffocating way?
“I didn’t think…” You stopped yourself, your voice trembling. “You didn’t say you’d be coming by. You can’t just—”
“Can’t just what?” he asked, his voice dangerously soft as he rose from the couch, his movements fluid and deliberate. “Show up to see what’s wrong?”
Your breath hitched as he closed the distance between you, his height and presence suddenly overwhelming. “Nothing’s wrong…”you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Is that so?” he murmured, tilting his head slightly, his eyes boring into yours. “Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you’ve been avoiding me, Darling.”
The accusation hung in the air, sharp and unyielding.
“I’ve been busy…” you said weakly, your voice lacking conviction.
“Busy,” he repeated, his gaze flicking over you again, this time with something close to disdain. “Too busy for me, but not too busy for… him.”
Your hands fidgeted at your sides, your breath coming in shallow bursts. You wanted to move, to put distance between you, but your legs felt rooted to the spot. “I didn’t think dinner with a friend would..”
“Friend?” he interrupted, the single word slicing through your sentence. His lips curved into something that might have been a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
Your heart pounded painfully against your ribs, the anxiety swirling in your chest mixing with something else—something raw and painful that you didn’t want to name. The memories of your last exchange with Sylus came flooding back—the curt messages, the unspoken finality of his “okay.” You had tried to convince yourself that it didn’t matter, that you didn’t need his validation. But standing here now, under the weight of his gaze, you felt every crack in the fragile walls you had built to keep him out.
“I don’t understand what you want from me,” you said finally, the words trembling as they left your lips.
His eyes softened slightly, but the tension in his posture didn’t ease. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something, something important, but the moment passed as quickly as it came. Instead, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a gesture so gentle it felt almost foreign.
“Don’t make me feel like I’m a stranger to you.” he said quietly, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability that made your chest ache.
Don’t make me feel like I’m a stranger to you. The words echoed in your mind, repeating, twisting, until all you could hear was the raw edge of betrayal laced in his tone.
You let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and bitter, a little too loud in the quiet of your apartment. Your chest tightened, and for a moment, you felt the space around you grow smaller. You couldn’t breathe—couldn’t think. All you could feel was the heat of anger building inside of you, raw and unrefined.
“That’s rich,” you scoffed, finally managing to find your voice. “That’s really rich, coming from you of all people.”
Sylus blinked, a subtle flash of surprise crossing his face, but it quickly masked over. His lips tightened, his brow furrowed ever so slightly, but it wasn’t enough. You had to push, you couldn’t hold back now. The words were tumbling out before you could even stop them. Your breath hitched, a strangled sob lodged somewhere in the back of your throat, but you refused to let it spill. You wouldn’t let him see you break—not like this, not in front of him. You knew the truth. He knew the truth. It hurt, yes, but you weren’t the one to blame.
“You've been treating me like a stranger for months,” you continued, your voice trembling with anger you hadn't fully realized was there. “Barely responding to my messages, not answering my calls, and when I do see you, it’s like you can’t be bothered. You don’t even see me.” You felt the weight of every unreturned message, every unanswered call, every promise left in limbo. “I’ve had to hear from Luke and Kieran that you’re in Linkon. But you couldn’t even make time to see me.”
You felt the ache deep in your chest, that familiar, suffocating knot forming. He didn’t deserve your pain. Not anymore. You wouldn’t let him have that. Not this time.
You took a shaky breath, suddenly feeling raw, exposed. “You don’t have to feel obligated to check on me, Sylus,” you said, your words clipped and cutting through the thick silence between you. “You don’t have to feel pity for me. I know where I stand. I know my place in your life.”
His expression, that unreadable mask, cracked for the briefest of moments. His lips parted, his gaze flicking to your face, then back down to the floor. His jaw clenched. But his eyes… They weren’t the same as they’d been earlier. The hardness was gone, replaced by something far more dangerous, something even more intimate. The storm was gathering, but it wasn’t just in the air—no, it was inside him too.
“You know where you stand?” His voice was quieter now, but there was an edge to it, a slight tightness you hadn’t noticed before. He took a step forward, his body closing the space between you, like a wave of raw energy crashing toward you. His proximity only made your pulse race faster, but you couldn’t back down. Not now.
“I’m just an informant, right?” you bit out, every word feeling like it sliced through the night air, cutting through the tension like a blade. “You don’t have to pretend you care, Sylus. So don’t stand there with that look on your face like I’m some important thing you need to check on.”
The air between you grew heavy, thick with unsaid words and stifled tension. Every inch of your body was telling you to get away, to shut down, to stop this before it tore you apart. But your feet felt heavy, stuck in place. Sylus’s presence was like gravity, pulling you toward him.
"You think that's all you are?" he murmured, his voice dangerously low, like the calm before the thunder. The way he said it made your heart stutter in your chest. It was both a question and an accusation or a challenge.
But there was something else in his voice. Something you couldn’t quite place. His eyes were intense, too intense, and they searched yours like he was looking for the answer. The truth.
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he continued, his words clipped, as though they were difficult for him to say. “But I couldn’t....couldn’t make sense of it. Of you.”
It was the first time that he seemed genuinely vulnerable, and it left you breathless and confused. You had always wondered if there was more beneath his cold exterior. You had always told yourself that he cared. But you had never dared to confront him.
His hand was close enough now to reach out, his fingers barely brushing the edge of your wrist. The air between you was still thick with everything unsaid, everything unhealed. And yet, despite the words that had been thrown between you, there was something undeniably magnetic in the tension. The ache in your chest, the rawness, the feelings of betrayal—they didn’t wash away just because you said them out loud.
God, you hated him for this.
But part of you yearned for him. That part that still felt tethered to him, despite the distance.
Sylus’s fingers hovered over your wrist, his touch like fire against your skin. For a moment, the storm between you calmed, leaving only the faintest echo of it behind. The weight of his gaze, the force of his presence—it seemed to drown out the rest of the world.
He said nothing for a moment, his lips parting as though he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. His eyes darkened further, not with anger now, but with something you couldn’t quite define.
You took a breath, your body suddenly feeling too small beneath his gaze. The storm was still inside. You had to move away. Your heart pounded as if it were trying to escape your chest, desperate to flee from whatever was stirring inside you. You couldn't—no, you wouldn’t—let yourself get caught up in whatever this feeling was. You were not some fool, ready to throw everything away for the temporary pull of his presence. You knew better than that. You had to.
Every instinct screamed at you to retreat, to put some distance between you and the mess of emotions bubbling under your skin. His sharp gaze was enough to make your knees tremble, and it took everything in you not to look back, not to let him see the quiet devastation that flickered inside you.
“You need to leave… Sylus.” You whispered. You staggered back a few steps, your breathing shallow, desperate. Your feet felt like lead, yet you forced yourself to walk away. You turned your back to him, willing your legs to move, hoping to escape before you got sucked into whatever dark vortex of feelings he was drawing you into.
He didn’t move. Instead, you heard the familiar click of his boots against the floor as he took a single, deliberate step forward. “Why?” His voice, low and curious, sent a shiver down your spine. It was almost too intimate, as if he were searching for a piece of you, trying to understand what you couldn’t explain.
You didn’t want to look at him. Didn’t want to see the quiet confusion on his face—the faint flicker of disappointment that stung like salt in an open wound. You couldn’t let him see your weakness, couldn’t let him know how badly it hurt to be around him, how badly it hurt not to be around him.
“Is it so you can run back to your precious ‘friend’?” The words dripped with something unspoken, something that made your stomach twist.
You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t. Not when his voice—that voice, the one that threaded through the air like silk—was digging into your mind like this. The word echoed in your ears, almost mocking you, and you felt something fragile snap inside you. The weight of the years you’d spent keeping distance, of guarding your heart against him, against whatever he made you feel, started to unravel. But you couldn’t let it.
You took another step away from him. One more step, you told yourself. Just one more. You didn’t need this.
Dark tendrils wrapped around you as you move, pulling you back. He was using his evol to pull you back. You didn’t need him pulling you in again. But then it came. That touch. He pulled you to him, forceful yet intimate, and your breath caught in your throat. You were too close. Too close to the edge of losing yourself, of falling into his presence.
His hands...no, his fingers—snaked around your waist before you even knew what was happening. You gasped, body going stiff in surprise, but his grip tightened, pulling you back into him. You tried to keep moving, tried to pull away, but it was useless. His hold was ironclad, his presence consuming. His grip tightened slightly, but there was an almost comforting pressure there, a subtle reminder that despite the dispute between you, there was something undeniable between the two of you.
“Why are you running?” His voice was a whisper against your ear, the words smooth like silk, but there was something jagged beneath them—something urgent, raw.
You struggled to hold yourself together, but the more you fought it, the more it pulled—this unbearable need to lean into him, to give in to the chaos that his proximity stirred in you. You knew you shouldn’t, but everything in you wanted to. You felt the ache of wanting something you couldn't have, the sting of the distance you had put between you and the thing that was somehow both poison and relief.
His hands tightened slightly, his thumb brushing over your ribs in a movement that sent a jolt through your entire system. The words you wanted to say, the reasons you needed to get away from him, all felt so small and pointless now. How could you possibly explain this? This tension, this pull? How could you say that being near him felt like the most excruciating thing in the world, but also the only thing that made you feel alive?
“You’re not just an informant to me,” he breathed, his words slipping under your skin, curling into the tight spaces of your chest. “I didn’t realize I was hurting you this much. That you’d want to distance yourself from me...” His tone softened at the end, but it only made everything worse. The tenderness in his voice—his tenderness—was like a dagger in your side, making the blood in your veins freeze. You wanted to say something, anything, but all you could hear was the deafening rush of your own heartbeat. You tried to stay composed, but the words were caught in your throat, and your body was still pressed so tightly against his, your breath shallow, your pulse thudding painfully against your ribs.
Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t you just say it—say that you couldn’t let him get close again? That you couldn’t survive another wound, another aching, empty feeling in your chest because of him? But the way his hands tightened, the warmth of his body against yours, made everything you were feeling a little too real.
You could feel his heartbeat against your back, the rhythm in sync with your own, and the pull of him was growing stronger. You could feel your anxiety bubbling up, the gnawing fear at the pit of your stomach. Was this just him toying with you? Was he trying to pull you into his world of darkness and manipulation? Or did he really care?
Your head was spinning. The emotions warred within you—anger, confusion, guilt, and something else. Something that made your heart race faster and your thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.
“Let me go,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm that raged around you.
But you didn’t pull away. You didn’t push him off.
Sylus' grip on you tightened, his arm like a steel band around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His chest rises and falls against your back as his breath brushes against your ear, warm and heavy. It’s as if he’s afraid, like if he lets go for even a second, he’ll lose you forever. You can feel the tension radiating from him, but also something softer, something desperate.
“No, Darling,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with emotion, his tone possessive, as though the very idea of you slipping away shatters him. “You’re not going anywhere and neither am I.”
"You’re going to stay," He pulls you even closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks again, quieter this time, but laced with something raw and vulnerable. "...and you’re going to listen to me. I won’t let you walk away from this."
You can hear the flicker of something beneath his words—regret. And then, his lips ghost over the sensitive skin of your neck, lingering just a little longer than necessary. He slowly spins you around, to face him. His voice softens, almost apologetic. “I know I was a dick. I know I didn’t respond to you, and I’m sorry for that. I didn’t know how to handle it… handle us. It confused me, and instead of facing it, I pushed you away.” His breath catches slightly, and you feel his chest tighten against your back.
His hand moves to cup your cheek, tilting your face slightly toward him, his thumb brushing over your skin as though it’s a promise, an apology. The weight of his gaze is intense, but there’s also something tender there, something that wants to pull you back in, closer. “I know you’re still hurting, darling. I see it. And I... I’ll spend a lifetime making up for it, because that’s what I want. A lifetime. With you. Not as some informant or some... thing, but as my beloved. You. By my side. Always.”
He pauses, letting his words hang in the air between you. His voice drops, the quiet sorrow of his confession sending a twinge of guilt through you. "I don’t have the right to ask this of you, I know," Sylus continues, his voice thick with emotion. "But seeing you push me away… It’s harder than I ever thought it would be. Harder than I want to admit." He presses his forehead lightly against your temple, his breath shaky. "I’ve never needed someone the way I need you, and I didn’t know how to tell you that. But I do. I need you."
You can feel him tense slightly, the shift in his demeanor telling you that his thoughts have turned darker. His voice lowers, the jealousy evident in the way he speaks, though it’s wrapped in a softness that almost makes it harder to bear.
"And Dr. Zayne... I can’t stand the thought of him being so close to you," Sylus adds, his voice low and thick with a possessiveness that unsettles you in its intensity. "It kills me, you know? Watching him with you, hearing you laugh like that with him, as if I don’t even exist." His arm tightens again, almost painfully, as if he needs to remind you, remind both of you, where you truly belong. "I know I have no claim on you... but... I can't help but feel like there’s a part of you that wants him in a way that... I can't compete with." His voice hardens, jealousy dripping from every word. "It eats at me, knowing he has a part of you that I’m fighting for."
"Sylus..." Your voice cracked slightly as you repeated his name, your breath hitching, caught in the tension between you. His name felt heavy on your tongue, like it was both a question and an answer. You had never said it so quietly, so vulnerably. The memories of earlier came rushing back—him with her, that delicate smile he gave her, the way she leaned into him just a little too comfortably. It had burned in your chest, the jealousy creeping in with a venomous ache.
The words tumbled out before you could stop them, too fast to gather, too painful to hide. "I felt the same... when I saw you with her," you confessed, swallowing thickly. "I felt so... so useless, Sylus. When I saw you with her, it felt like... like she was everything you needed. Better than me. And that... it broke me, Sylus. I felt like I wasn’t enough, like I wasn’t... worth it.”
The words stung, bitter and unrelenting, but the weight of them was finally lifted as you let them spill out. You felt exposed, naked in your insecurity, but somehow, it was all you could do to stand there and wait for him to respond. You could feel the weight of it, of how small you’d felt in that moment, how unworthy you had become in your own eyes. The self-doubt gnawed at your insides, each thought of her with him twisting like a knife in your gut.
Sylus’s expression softened, his features melting into a tender sadness, as though he were seeing you for the first time, truly seeing you. His hand reached out slowly, almost hesitantly, as if afraid to shatter the fragile space between you. His touch was a gentle comfort, his fingers brushing against your cheek, his voice a low whisper, "Darling, you're none of that... none of it, I swear."
You shook your head, feeling the tears threatening, but you couldn’t let them fall, not yet. His words were kind, but the ache in your chest was still there, an unhealed wound.
He continued, his voice steady but thick with something deeper. "I didn’t know you felt that way... about her, in the same way I feel about Zayne." His gaze met yours, and for the first time tonight, it wasn’t uncertain. It was so gentle, so soft, tender. "But you need to know, you're it for me, Darling…" he murmured, his fingers curling around yours, grounding you in the quiet storm of your emotions. "Yes, I want help from her, but..." He paused, as if weighing his words carefully, "...I need you more." His words were a balm to the wounds that had festered within you, but the tenderness in his eyes was what finally reached you. His hand slid down to your shoulder, his thumb grazing the skin there. His warmth surrounded you, and you let yourself sink into the comfort of his words. The jealousy, the insecurity that had burned so fiercely in you when you saw him with her, melted in the face of the tenderness he was offering now.
You swallowed, trying to steady yourself as your heart raced, the intensity of the moment almost overwhelming. “Zayne… Zayne’s just a friend,” you said, your voice fragile but firm, “someone who helped me... helped me see past the stuff in my head. After everything, I just... needed someone to remind me that I’m not broken.”
Sylus's eyes softened even more, the depth of his gaze sending shivers down your spine. He nodded slowly, his expression filled with understanding. The tension between you didn’t disappear entirely, but it was now laced with something more tender. More real.
“You’re not broken, Darling.” he repeated, and there was a quiet strength in his voice, something that made you believe him more than you ever had before. “You’re everything I’ve ever needed... and more.”
"I... I’m sorry," you whispered, a lump in your throat as you looked up at him. "I never wanted to make you feel like I didn’t care. I just... I was afraid you’d choose her over me."
Sylus’s fingers brushed against the nape of your neck, pulling you closer, his forehead pressing gently against yours. "You never have to apologize for that, Darling." he murmured, his voice warm, his breath mingling with yours. “It was my fault and I accept that.”
The room was quiet, save for the soft sound of your breathing, as Sylus stood before you, his face drawn with intensity. The flickering light from the lamp cast soft shadows across his features, but his gaze... his gaze was sharp, focused entirely on you.
"I love you, Darling" he said, his words lingering in the air as though they were the first time he had allowed himself to say them out loud. "I’m in love with you," he confessed, his voice steady despite the raw emotion that tinged it. "I’ve been in love with you for a while now, and I’ve tried to deny it. Tried to hide it from you and myself, but I can’t anymore. I won’t. I love you, and I need you to know that."
The breath you hadn’t realized you were holding caught in your throat. Everything in you froze, then splintered. The confession, so pure, so vulnerable, hit you with a force you hadn’t been prepared for. You stood there, unable to move, a mix of surprise and relief flooding your chest.
He loves you. Sylus. The one you had longed for, yearned, and hoped for in silence. Your heart stuttered in your chest, the world around you growing impossibly still.
"I…" you whispered, voice trembling, and you had to stop, had to steady yourself before the words could spill from your lips. "I’ve love you too," you said, your voice barely more than a breath, but it carried all the weight of everything you had kept inside. "I’ve loved you, and I never told you because I was afraid. Afraid that I was asking too much. Afraid of the rejection. Afraid that I wasn’t enough."
Sylus’s expression softened, his lips curling into a frown as he stepped forward, closing the space between you. His hands reached for you, but not in the way you had feared or expected. They were gentle, his touch a plea for understanding. "Oh, darling," he whispered, shaking his head slowly. "I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you ever felt like you needed to hide it from me."
He reached up, brushing his thumb along your cheek, and you flinched slightly, your emotions suddenly overwhelming you, raw and untamed. "We’re both idiots," he continued, his voice almost tender with the weight of the admission. "We’ve been skirting around each other, afraid of saying the one thing we both needed to say."
Your laugh came out soft, almost fragile, the tension in your chest breaking for the first time since Sylus had walked into your home. It was a quiet sound, but it was the first time you’d laughed all night, the first time you’d allowed yourself to feel something other than fear or uncertainty in the past few weeks with him involved. But that laugh didn’t last long. As soon as it came, the tears followed, the ones you had been holding back for so long, finally slipping free. The dam you had built up crumbled, and before you could stop them, hot tears streamed down your face. before you could even reach up to brush them away, his hand was there, steady and warm against your cheek.
"Don’t," you whispered, your voice thick with the ache you could no longer hide. "Please, don’t look at me like this. I’m—"
"Stop," Sylus interrupted softly, his hand holding yours gently, his gaze unwavering. "Don’t hide from me. I want to see all of you… everything you’ve been hiding. I know you think I don’t see it, but I do." His eyes locked onto yours with such intensity that you couldn’t look away. "I see it when you think I’m not watching. I see the way you pull back, the way you hide the parts of you that you think I can’t handle. But I am looking. I’ve always been looking. And I don’t want you to hide anymore. Not from me. And I’m here and I want all of you."
His words were a medicine to the parts of you that had been bruised, the parts that had feared being exposed, vulnerable. But in his eyes, there was only love. No judgment. No pity. Just... love. And it was enough. It was more than enough.
The tears that had slipped down your face slowed, but they didn’t stop. You didn’t try to wipe them away this time, allowing yourself to be seen for the first time in ages. The sobs that followed were soft but trembled with relief, with something finally breaking open inside of you.
Sylus’s arms were around you in an instant, pulling you close, holding you in the kind of embrace that made you feel as though you could finally breathe, as though the weight of everything you had been carrying could finally be set down.
"I’m sorry," you whispered, almost broken. "I’ve been so scared, Sylus. Scared of this, of being cast away... of losing you."
"You’ll never lose me, Darling." he murmured, his voice firm and unwavering as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.
You tilted your head back slightly, your face still damp with the remnants of the tears that had fallen, and through your wet lashes, you searched his face. Sylus held you close, his arms wrapped around you in a way that made you feel safe, even as the doubts lingered in your heart. You wanted to believe him, but the fear, the uncertainty, was still there, buried deep beneath the surface.
He must have seen it in your eyes, the way you still hesitated, the uncertainty you couldn't quite shake. Sylus made a half-frustrated sound in the back of his throat, his hands tightening around you for a split second, before they slid up to cradle your face. His thumb brushed against your cheek again, a tender, pleading touch, before he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a sudden, urgent kiss.
The kiss was unlike any other. It wasn’t slow, it wasn’t soft. It was intense, filled with desperation, as though he needed you to understand just how deeply he felt for you, just how much you meant to him. His hands cupped your face, holding you as if you were the only thing that mattered in that moment, as if the world had stopped turning just for you. His lips pressed against yours with a kind of fire, but it wasn’t angry, no. It was passionate, desperate in its own way, like he wanted you to feel how important you were to him, how much you had been wanted, loved.
Your hands trembled as they reached up, gripping the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer, wanting to bridge the distance between you, as though the kiss itself could erase every lingering doubt in your heart. Your breath hitched when you felt his pulse quicken under your touch, his heartbeat matching the frantic pace of your own. Each breath you took seemed to echo in the stillness of the room, mingling with the heat of his kiss, our lips moving together with a quiet urgency, the world beyond the two of you fading into a distant blur. You felt everything—every brush of his fingers, every subtle shift of his body against yours, the way his chest rose and fell beneath your palms, how his breath felt against your lips as if he couldn’t get close enough to you.
Your chests rose and fell together, the world spinning around you. You could feel the heat of him, the urgency that still lingered in his touch, the way he kept you close, almost as if he were afraid to let go.
Breathing became an afterthought, both of you gasping for air when the kiss broke, but neither of you pulled far enough away to lose the connection. Sylus’s forehead rested against yours, his breath hot against your lips as he whispered, voice still heavy with emotion. “Every day, from henceforth, I will work to make sure you never feel the need to doubt yourself. Not in my life. Not with me." His words, slow and deliberate, sank deep into your heart like a promise he would keep.
The intensity of the moment hung between you both, the room still, save for the soft sound of your breathing as you both slowly came back to reality. But in his eyes, you saw nothing but certainty—certainty that you were enough. That you always had been.
His hand found yours again, fingers weaving with yours, and he gave it a gentle squeeze, as if the simple touch was a quiet reassurance.
"You are everything to me," he murmured, his voice steady now, grounding you as much as his embrace. "And I’ll make sure you never forget that.”
Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, absorbing his words, his warmth, his certainty. In his arms, you could feel the truth of his promise, somewhere deep inside, the doubts began to fade.
For the first time in a long time, you believed him. And when he kissed you again, this time softer, it was like the beginning of something new.
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AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!
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cloudwisp · 3 months ago
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✮ sylus x wife!reader (2)
contents: tooth-rotting fluff. arranged marriage au. sylus as your sweet and doting husband who's simply in love with you and anything that you do. 1.5k wc.
꒰ note ᰔ thank you for everyone's patience who requested a part two!! I truly hope this meets your expectations <3
part one here. ꒱
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⭒ You’re an early bird married to a night owl. After gradually moving your belongings into Sylus’ master bedroom, your different sleeping schedules were made acutely aware. His day is just beginning when you’re heading to bed and he’s more or less mentally retired after a long night of business dealings and meetings when your body decidedly rises with the first rays of light at dawn. Because of this, you both compromise to meet somewhere in the middle—Sylus sweetly tucks you in later than your usual bedtime and leaves only when you’d fallen asleep, and you snuggle with him in the mornings until the very last minute and you’re forced to get ready for the working day. However, his sleeping patterns are more on the irregular side and he’ll check in on you when he’s supposed to be resting.
⭒ When Luke and Kieran witness you and Sylus bid each other with a goodbye kiss—an affectionate and wholesome display between lovers as your husband sees you off to work at the front door, they are stunned and lose it from the sidelines at the budding romance. “Wait, what just happened?” “Was there a development while we were gone?” The crow twins would share glances and decipher the scene before them together. They both have been rooting for you and their boss since day one, and they marvel at the way you both are completely smitten with each other. As though you two are like newlyweds who can't get enough of your shared love, unwilling to separate just yet even as you slowly step away from Sylus.
⭒ His touch linger with purpose to hold onto every last part of you and his hands move from your waist and slide down your arms to hold your hands until his fingers curl slightly and mourn the loss of your warmth when he eventually has to let you go. When Sylus watches your figure disappear and return back inside his home he receives a thumbs up and pending double high fives respectively from his two henchmen. He walks past them and ignores their antics by giving them orders, but Luke doesn’t leave his brother hanging and celebrates that their boss is officially and undeniably in love.
⭒ Anniversaries were an unexpected thing to celebrate with Sylus—along with holidays and birthdays. You were caught by surprise when you received a gorgeous dress and pearls inside a pretty wrapped box adorned with ribbons after being married to Sylus for three months. You weren’t quite romantically involved with him at that point and went along with what he planned for the evening, and you had a feeling it wasn’t just a performance for the public at an upscale restaurant but he genuinely wanted to make this night special for you. Then something in the air shifted and became sweeter and you suppose you wanted to start making the smaller things in life count. Even if there wasn’t a particular milestone coming up, you decide to make one up yourself. After all, there’s a true saying that the secret to marriage is keeping it fresh and interesting.
⭒ With the help of the cute twins, they set up a cozy tent in the verdant space of the garden meanwhile you decorate fairy lights all around in swooping arcs and tight lines, arrange pillows and blankets inside, and place a deck of kitty cards in the center. After everything is where you need it to be, you show the boys your gratitude and send them away as you work on the finishing touches. You gather the plate of chocolate-covered strawberries and two glasses for the red wine when suddenly your husband sneaks up from behind you and wrap himself around you, inquiring about how the twins wanted him to come find you… Oh those cheeky little things. Well, never mind them. “Don’t tell me that you forgot what today is. Happy 300 days since our first kiss, baby.” You admit that it may come off as a little silly and no one’s truly keeping count, but you simply wanted to do something nice for him.
⭒ Sylus never passes up an opportunity to take care of his darling wife. Even if that means going along with your unusual ideas like you suggesting to borrow his dress shoes after the auction show was over. He throws you a puzzled look followed by a bemuse chuckle, and he supposes he could oblige if that’s what you really wanted. You explain to him that being well dressed from head to toe to match his outfit came at the price of your painfully, aching feet. And he can’t resist giving into your demands when you ask with such adorable little pouts. There are more practical methods to go about the situation, but he certainly loves humoring you even if things don't work out the way you thought they would.
⭒ Sylus leads you to a nearby bench and gestures for you to have a seat while he removes his shoes and bends down on one knee before you, unworried about dirtying his expensive trousers. He works diligently to undo the straps around your ankles and place your heels aside to focus on slipping his shoes onto your feet. “Well, you look quite fetching in my shoes. Now shall we continue our walk or do you have any more requests to make?” He helps you straighten yourself as he returns to his normal height. You huff and make a discontent noise when you almost trip over your own two feet trying to take a step forward in your (his) much too large and too spacious shoes. “Actually, these won’t do. I changed my mind, I want my heels back.”
⭒ Sylus chuckles at your hopeless attempt, his hand going on your hip to keep you from toppling over and accidentally hurting yourself. “Ah, it appears my shoes are too big for you, kitten. You say you want your heels back, hm?” He kneels before you once more as he retrieves your pair of heels, his fingers brushing along the underside of your leg and he carefully tugs them back on your feet. He gives your ankle a gentle squeeze as he finishes securing the straps, his gaze flickering up to meet yours. "There, I hope you're satisfied now, my sweet wife." His arm then goes around your waist and he effortlessly lifts you off the ground without so much as a warning. He smirks at your precious reaction, your body flushed against his meanwhile your arms encircle his neck for balance. “Why don’t I just carry you the rest of the way instead?”
⭒ You’re snuggled up against Sylus’ chest as you bring a concern to his attention one night. “What happens when our arrangement comes to an end?” The main reason you agreed to marry him in the first place is because it was a contract marriage with a specific time frame of five years that you’d have to spend with him. And you realize that with everything he does, he’s always been considerate of you as a whole even with how he drafted this contract knowing that it could end at his own expense. He provided you with a means of freeing yourself from him if you for whatever reason wished to no longer continue your marriage with him after the term ends. The choice is left entirely up to you because he never wanted you to feel trapped but he won’t make it easy for you. “If I decided to leave, you’d really let me go?”
⭒ Sylus hesitates for a moment, his gaze fixed on you and he seems to be thinking about something as his expression grows serious. “You always know how to ask the tough questions, don’t you sweetie?” After a moment, he lets out a small sigh and nods. “…Yes. Technically, you’ll be free to go. I won’t stop you if you truly want to leave.” Another sigh escapes him, yet his voice remains soft and sincere and he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and his palm cradles your cheek. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to stay. What do you want to happen when the contract ends, darling?”
⭒ You mull over your thoughts, teasing him with a pensive look as you purposely drag on the seconds. “Since you’re leaving it up to me, I think… I want to renew our vows at the five-year mark. How’s that sound?” A surprise and slight disbelief flit across his face at the same moment his countenance softens at your affirmation. “You want to renew our vows?” You offer him a demure nod with your sweet smile and he gently takes your hand in his, bringing it to his face and laying a kiss against your knuckles. “Then it’s settled. I would be honored to renew our vows when the time comes. There will be no more contracts or strings attached. We’ll be bound by our love and our love only.”
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emiliaoleary · 1 year ago
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Hooking rugs that look like dogs
Here's how I do it:
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The process I use is called rug hooking (not latch hook or punch needle or tufting, though it is the forerunner of the latter two techniques). Rugs are hooked by pulling loops of fabric strips or yarn through the holes of a base fabric with a coarse open weave, like burlap, or linen, or rug warp. The loops are pulled through the fabric with a squat-handled hook whose business end is shaped like a crochet hook.  There are no knots and the loops aren't sewed down in any way.  The whole thing stays put just by the tension of all those loops packed together in the weave of the foundation fabric.
This isn't a true detailed tutorial but a walk-through of my particular process. The same information is on my web page, emilyoleary.com .
I hook with yarn, rather than with cut strips of wool fabric, which is what many rug hookers use.  I can get a looser, more organic distribution of loops with yarn than I could with wool strips, which are hooked in neat lines. 
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Mostly I use wool yarn. In terms of yarn weight, I can use DK, worsted, or Aran.  If I'm using thicker yarn, I leave more holes un-hooked; if I'm using finer yarn, I hook more densely or double up lengths of it.  I particularly like using single ply yarns (like Brown Sheep Lamb's Pride or Malabrigo Worsted).  I don't keep count, but I think I usually use around two dozen types and colors of yarn per dog.  
This is my yarn wall in my apartment. Mostly brown and gray yarn!
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I start from a small drawing in my sketchbook, then I head to FedEx office to use a copy machine, blowing up the drawing repeatedly and experimenting with how big the dog rug should be. 
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After transferring the image onto my linen, I immediately go over it with Sharpie, because the Saral is really difficult to see and really easy to rub off.
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The rug is held taut by a PVC quilting frame that I set on my lap.
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I push my hook down through the fabric with my right hand and my left hand stays below the fabric and guides the yarn while I pull it up and through with the hook. Not every hole in the fabric is hooked. Hooking every hole would make the rug too dense. I do hook pretty densely, though-- If you pick up one of my rugs you’ll see they have a slight curl to them, which is because they’re hooked pretty tight. I'm using all different weights and types of yarn, so it's a challenge to keep the overall tension even.
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I hook my loops at varying heights to create a very low relief. Sometimes I trim the loops to make them fluffier or wispier or to shape a particular part. I look at a reference photo while I work and pull out and redo sections a lot.
My q-snap frame can accommodate the growing dog rug. I have extenders to make it bigger and I can clamp around my hooking.
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The back of a rug looks like lines of little stitches. The lines are little worm trails snaking around because lines of hooking are not supposed to cross over each other. It's important to start a new length of yarn rather than cross over a stitch you already made! I read this when I first started and took it to heart. It makes it much easier to undo and redo hooking if you have to (and I redo sections A Lot). It also keeps the back from getting too bulky and resulting in uneven wear on the back of a functional rug that gets floor use.
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When I’m done hooking everything I turn the rug over and brush watered-down Sobo glue on the edges of the dog, making sure to get one or two of the outermost lines of hooking. I do a couple coats of this thinned out glue. I'm careful not to use so much that it seeps to the front of the rug. When the glue is dry I cut the rug out, but I don't cut so close that the loops don't have any linen to keep them in.
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​ It generally takes me at least several months to finish one dog rug. My hooking frame and yarn bag are very portable (though bulky) so I can hook out and about at coffee shops or the library or a brewery if there's enough space and light.
Hooking in the wild makes me an ambassador for making things in general and rug hooking in particular. I answer people's questions and always emphasize how relatively easy it is to get started hooking. Sometimes I get anxious that other people will hook rugs that look like mine but better, but I think that working in a traditional medium means you should share your knowledge for the good of the craft.
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skiiyoomin · 4 months ago
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Can you make Kenma,Oikawa, Hinata, Sugawara, Nishinoya, Akaashi with a sub! Girlfriend that has a personality that remembers a Golden Retriever?? (Can it be NSFW?)
ღHq boys with a sub!golden retriever gf
ʚft: Kenma, Oikawa, Hinata, Suga, Nishinoya, Akaashi
ʚCont: SMUT CONTENT, fem!reader, fingering, slight corruption kink, mirror sex, use of good girl, riding, oral sex
⤑Back to navigation
a/n i think i outdid myself with this one 😁
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Kenma
There is a clear difference between your personalities. He´s passive and calm whereas you´re always a bundle of energy. Many joke you have all the energy Kenma doesn't. And that fact proves right in moments like these.
He was slumped on the couch when you skipped into the living room. Your eyes darted to his hands holding the controller. His long fingers were moving across the buttons with a speed only a chronic video game player had. A flash of thoughts that were anything but holy crossed your mind. They were pushed back almost immediately.
They were hard to ignore now that those same fingers were pumping up into your dripping cunt. Your hips moved on their own, rolling instinctively to find the same spot that had your head throwing back with whiny moans. The clutch your fisted hands had on his shirt tightened when you bounced on his fingers, riding them like you would with his cock. "ken mmgh fuck m´ tired" He wasn´t sure if his actions were out of sympathy or torture, but his free hand gripped your hip to stop their movement. His other hand, drenched in your juices, moved upwards at a fast pace, curling inwards to hit the plushness of your g-spot. "tired? already? well, I suppose I´ll help" Though he didn´t seem to mind with how hard he was in that moment, his erection begging to be freed from its restraints. The fast pace of his fingers brought your orgasm closer than you thought. Your mind blanked, body shaking as your walls clamped down on his fingers, imprisoning them inside your warmth.
His lips on your face landed you back from cloud 9. "such a good girl, wanna keep doing a good job for me and make me feel good?" He murmurs against your skin, to which you nod without hesitation.
Oikawa
Oikawa absolutely adoresss you. You´re his little puppy, his sweet innocent baby girl. He dies and revives every single time your doe eyes stare up at him with those bright irises. They shoot straight to his heart, tightening in his chest to the point where his breath is lost in the air. He doesn´t know what he´d do without his pretty girl. He could spend countless hours naming all the things he loves about you. But he was certain that what he loves most, is your willingness to please him. Like a puppy does with its owner.
Deep down, it isn´t just for the simple innocent reasons one may imagine. Your willingness to please applies to the bedroom too. And there was nothing that turns him on more than to have you on all fours, ramming his cock into your abused hole for hours on end.
Tears were falling down your pretty eyes, your back setting into a mean arch the longer you stayed in that position. Even then, your breathy shaky voice asked "m´ i making you feel good?" Call it a possible corruption kink, but seeing your head lifting to meet his gaze from the back with those teary doe eyes, your lips pouty as you concern yourself more over his pleasure than your own, god that just makes his dick harder than ever.
If anything, it keeps his cock pounding into you relentlessly, forcing orgasm after orgasm from you, all just to see you with that same look in your eyes. Yeah, he definitely has a corruption kink.
Hinata
You´re both bundles of sunshine. Your relationship is as radiant as the sun, a constant source of joy in each others lives. You´re both the same golden retriever energy and anyone can see that from a 20 mile radius. In terms of dominance, well, it´s hard to say. Or at least, that´s how it is for anyone outside the relationship. However between you two? It´s pretty clear.
The sight in front of you is sinful really. No porno you had ever watched was as erotic as this. Hinata is sitting on the edge of the bed with you sitting snuggly on his lap, your back pressed against his toned chest. You´re convinced you´d have bruises on your hips the next morning from how tight he was gripping them. Though your focus in that moment is on the dirty view from the mirror of your tight hole getting stretched open by his thick cock. While Hinata is setting the pace and keeping you balanced, you´re tasked to hold your legs wide open with your hands under your knees, giving you the perfect view of his cock connecting with your cunt.
As much as you wanted to throw your head back on his shoulder from the painful pleasure, you couldn´t look away from the sight. The way your puffy lips parted in an accomodating motion for his dick to pound up into you relentlessly is an addicting sight you can´t get enough of. The fast pace is dizzying along with the view of his fluids mixing with yours and coating his cock like a second skin. His pace sped up even more, though you hadn´t thought that was possible, when your impending orgasm resulted in the clenching of your gummy walls. "hold on f´me sweet girl, can you do that?" He asks sweetly into your ear despite the vicious pace of his tip kissing your cervix. "mhmm" Is all you can manage to say. "good girl"
Sugawara
Suga is often seen as the sweet calm boyfriend whereas you´re the energetic girlfriend whose always bouncing around with energy. It´s a balance that makes the relationship work very well. But what nobody expects is the 180 Suga does in bed.
A foot is balanced on his shoulder, his hands wrapped around the plushness of the back of your thighs. Suga loves this more than anything else. When your body goes limp from the pleasure, reducing all that energetic behaviour that you had before to nothing. You never resist him, no, instead you encourage him to keep going. To keep stretching your body into positions you didn´t think were possible. To keep your walls continuously stroking his cock, pulling countless orgasms out of you until you had nothing left to give. And even then, you keep your legs spread wide open like the good little thing that you are.
He groans into your ear "fuck. You like that? like how good my cock is making you feel?" He growls into your ear. One hand moves to rub your swollen clit, intensifying the pleasure. The result of your moans urged his ruthless pace to quicken. He chuckles breathlessly. "can´t even speak. am I fucking my baby dumb? Is that it?" The mocking tone of his voice was far more arousing than you thought and he knew it. How could he not when your walls were clenching so tightly around his aching member?
"wanna loosen up for me baby girl? I can´t make you cum if you´re squeezin so tight" He smirks "Yeaah that´s it, good fucking girl" He says in that low raspy voice you love so much. You´re in for a looong night.
Nishinoya
You´re both equally energetic. His energy rubs off on you and yours rubs off on him. You two together is utter chaos in the best way possible. Though when it comes to dominance, Noya is always sure to prove he´s the dominant one. Not like you mind anyway.
It´s movie night and of course, one thing leads to another. Now you´re on Noyas lap with his cock fucking up into you. If this isn´t heaven, Noya wasn´t sure what is. You´re always so eager to take him, to be fucked into submission. He groans lowly when you squeeze particularly hard. His eyes trail from your pussy to the swell of your breasts that bounce every time he thrusts up into you, his grip on your hips controlling the pace. The sight is so enticing, so breath taking that he can´t resist getting a taste. His mouth latches onto oneperky nipple while his fingers play with the other, giving them equal attention.
"aaah ngh noya" You moan, the sounds like music to his ears. His mouth latches off your breasts with a pop. "hmm? is my baby girl feeling good?" You whine, trying to speed up the pace. His gaze darkens with a primal lust. His feet plant on the floor and with a sudden boost of energy, he fucks your hole with a roughness he had never used before. He has no time to worry if he´s being too rough, becuase you´re instantly arching your back into a mean curve and throwing your head back. It´s overwhelming, the intense pleasure, the throbbing of your cunt the more he keeps his cock inside you.
A loud smack resonantes across the room, a gasp following it afterwards. The sting from his slap on your ass strangely adds to the pleasure, making your cunt throb more. He seems to sense this as well because he does it again and again. By the end of that night, the skin of your ass was a painful tomato red. Though you can´t stay mad at him when he fucks you so good.
Akaashi
Akaashi seems to attract the most energetic people ever. First it was Bokuto, now it´s you. He doesn´t complain one bit though. He adores you so much and makes you feel so loved too. He especially loves showing his love for you through intimate acts. It´s too tempting for him after all. When you´re always so greedy to please him and make him happy. Or especially when you´re so submissive for him. You trust him blindly and know he takes good care of you and nothing can ever make him more turned on than that.
Like now, he´s laying on his stomach on the bed. The thickness of your thighs are wrapped around his head, pulling him closer to your aching core. This was the thing he loves most. Worshipping your body over and over like you´re a goddess and he´s your most faithful worshipper. A shiver crawls down your spine when his warm breath tickles your bare skin, coming in contact with your heat. You gasp when his warm tongue slips out and licks along your slit until it hooks on your clit. Akaashi is a patient man, but even his own patience wears thin under the temptation of ravishing you whole.
He wastes no time in wrapping his lips around your clit, sucking the bundle gently while slipping a finger inside. One finger turns into two, then three. Soon enough his fingers are thrusting into you while he continues to busy his mouth with your clit. It´s not long before your body shakes from the force of a mind blowing orgasm.
He doesn´t wait a single second. Your legs are forced to spread open, giving him space to slip his tongue into your sensitive hole. You whine and squirm from the overstimulation. "aaah kashi" Said man lifts his head up, your juices smeared all over his chin and lips. They press wet kisses to your inner thighs while looking up at your flushed face. "you know the safe word, don´t you darling?" You nod meekly under his intense gaze. He smirks "good" Is all he says before going back to fucking your throbbing hole like a starved man having his last meal on earth.
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hannieehaee · 7 months ago
Text
DOES HE KNOW ?
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18+ / mdi
summary: after being friends with lee chan for a good portion of your life, the boy you considered nothing but your best friend suddenly starts acting different, making you slowly fall for him. problem is, you have a boyfriend.
content: friends2lovers!chan, reader has a bf, almost cheating but not actually, afab reader, smut, oral (f receiving), wet dream (this is actually a huge point in the plot lol), masturbation (f receiving), dry humping, more oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.
wc: 9.8k
a/n: rewrote this so many times but finally finished it!! i love writing channie so i hope u guys enjoy<3
masterlist | kofi/patreon
support me through a one time tip<3
Something was clearly wrong with you.
Was Lee Chan hot?
Nothing made sense anymore, and it had been the case for a while.
You could date it back to a little over a month ago, at one of Soonyoung's usual gatherings. This had been where it all began, or more so, where it all ended.
For some reason unknown to man, that was the day in which Chan began courting you (his words, not yours).
After years of a solid friendship between the two of you, a not-so tipsy Chan cornered you at aforementioned party and began dancing with you. This was a common occurrence between the two of you. Despite having been taken for the past few months, you were still quite liberal about your touchy relationship with your best friend. However, what happened next what was truly out of the ordinary.
"Hey," he had whispered against your ear.
"Yeah?", you giggled, entertained by the boy.
"Wanna know a secret?"
"Sure."
"I've never wanted anyone as much as I want you," and with that, the dam had broken.
You froze against his arms, eyes widening. Though he could not see, as you were holding each other far too close to make eye contact.
Maybe he was drunk?
He interrupted you before you could respond. Chan pulled away from you to look into your eyes with a fully sober look in his face.
"I'm not drunk, and I know you have a boyfriend. And I know you only see me as a friend. But give me a few weeks, and I'll change both those things," was the last thing he said before giving you a peck on the cheek (yet another common thing in your relationship) and walking away with a confident sway in his step.
Ever since then, you had been bombarded by romantic gestures from your former best friend – former because you truly had no idea how you felt about him by this point.
Chan bought you flowers, – even when it was raining – had your favorite beverage at hand any time you so happened to see him, tied your shoelaces should they ever come undone, plucked loose eyelashes from your cheeks, tucked your hair behind your ear, placed his hand at the small of your back before crossing a street, walked you to and from home, looked at you with an indescribable sweetness in his eye, he ... He did everything any girl would need to be completely swooned (and then some).
You were beyond confused as to when this change had come about. As far as you knew, you were nothing more than best friends. When had Chan even begun liking you? What had changed?
"Oh. He's always had a thing for you," was what your mutual friend Soonyoung said when you first brought it up.
"What do you mean? We've been friends for years, he's never-"
"Yeah, duh. You never showed interest, what was he supposed to do? But yeah, he's crazy about you," added Seungkwan, sipping his drink nonchalantly.
You had decided to meet up with some of your mutual friends while Chan was at work. You needed at least five minutes with your other friends without Chan getting in the way with his flirting.
"It's kinda sick, actually," interjected Soonyoung once more.
You remained quiet for a while, thinking back to every interaction you'd ever had with Chan that may have revealed his feelings for you. Unfortunately, you kept drawing blanks all the while Soonyoung stole fries from your plate, disregarding your confusion at the situation.
"But why now?", you finally asked, slapping his meddling hand away from your food.
He shrugged, "Maybe he got fed up of watching you with that guy."
"He has a name, Soonyou-"
"None of us really care enough to learn it."
That much was true. None of your friends were fans of your current boyfriend. Or of any of them, to be quite frank. You had certain lack of skill at picking them, though this time around you felt confident about your current relationship. He was nice and respectful. Maybe a little bit of a square, but you liked to think you brought out the fun in him. This was also the longest relationship you'd ever had, giving you the grand total of three months in a exclusive relationship and a month and a half of a very prolonged talking stage that took place before he ever asked you out officially.
"Is this because I've been taken for longer than usual?", you tried to assert.
"Oh! That might be it, huh?", Soonyoung agreed.
"Well, I guess he didn't want you to break your streak of failed relationships," chuckled Kwan.
With a slap to his chest, you dropped the subject, deciding to ignore the slight acceleration of your heart any time you thought about Chan's crush for too long.
At first you found it to be a bit of a joke, but his affections quickly began to wear you down. It also didn't help how blatant he was about it, constantly flirting up a storm around your friends, not caring for their amused smiles at your flustered half-rejections of his advances. The only times in which he held back were the rare occasions in which your boyfriend would join your friend group in their outings. He could be reserved at times, not really clicking with your loud friends, so his presence was not a common thing.
Being honest, you felt kind of bad at the genuine excitement Chan's crush gave you. Though you weren't sure of your feelings for him at this point, his interest flustered you tremendously. You'd always known him as a pretty and charming guy, despite never really acknowledging such things. You understood why he got so much attention from girls, though you never thought too much of it. He was your best friend, you never had any motive to consider anything further than platonic feelings for him. But now that you were questioning your feelings, you felt as if you were kind of betraying your boyfriend.
Not to misunderstand, you had no desire of pursuing anything with anyone while you were in a committed relationship. You were just not that kind of person. But the mere thought of blushing at the words of a guy who wasn't yours (all while actually having a guy of your own) made you feel ashamed. Specially considering that you already had a very grand preexisting fondness for the guy in question.
God damn you, Lee Chan.
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"So, when are you gonna drop this game and finally let me take you to bed?", he whispered cockily against your ear.
He was always so goddamn confident about it; a trait you always liked about him but were beginning to detest.
As per usual, you simply jokingly groaned at him and pushed him away in a manner far too light to be considered serious.
"Fuck off, Lee Chan."
With a giggle, he stepped away, usual pep in his step as present as ever.
"I'll get you another drink, 'kay, pretty?", you lost him in the crowd after that.
You'd gone drinking with your friends yet again, though this time at a distant friend's house party. Your boyfriend was absent once more due to his personal disdain for such outings. He was simply not much of a social drinker, which was fine! It just bothered you at times how often he chose staying in rather than going out with you.
Despite your rejections of Chan, you felt embarrassed to admit that you loved the thrill of his interest in you. Never had you ever had someone so shamelessly after your affections despite your lighthearted refusals. It made you feel wanted and powerful. It felt specially good when it came from a guy as handsome and charismatic as Chan; a guy who could have basically any girl all thanks to his unbelievable charisma.
Yet he wanted you. He was after you.
The guy you knew most was currently infatuated with you.
Yeah, you did need that second drink.
"Where's your guy?"
Your thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice coming from behind you.
You turned around to find Vernon leaning back against the wall, a smirk on his face at having watched your encounter with Chan.
"Shut up," you walked over to recline on the wall next to him, deciding to people-watch alongside him.
"It was a genuine question," he claimed, handing you a sip of the beer he'd been nursing.
"He's working again," you sipped, handing it back to take turns as you waited for Chan to bring you your drink of choice.
"And Channie?"
"What about him?"
"Does your boyfriend know?", he asks, more curious than actually interested.
Men, nosy as usual.
You groan, "Don't ask me that, Non."
"C'mon! Has he not noticed the way Chan's been after you these past few weeks?", he seemed far too entertained by the subject.
"Of course not! Chan's kept his distance around him, but ..."
"But?"
You turned your head to him, back still leaning against the wall, "I don't know!"
"Well, do you like him? Channie, I mean."
"It's- I like the attention."
"And him?", he pressed.
"He's starting to wear me down," you admitted.
Vernon chuckled into his red solo cup, "It's cute."
"What is?"
"The back and forth, the 'will they, won't they.' But if you ask me, I think they will."
"I have a boyfriend, Non," you grumbled, not entirely convincing in your tone.
"Yeah, but are you guys even friends? Wouldn't it be better to date someone who you actually like?"
"Stop doing PR for Chan. It's not like he needs it," you grumbled, already uses to this back and forth with many of your other friends – all of whom were rooting for Chan.
"Fine. But get out of here. Your guy's probably looking for you."
"My guy's not here."
"I meant Channie, now go!"
You grumbled again before walking in the direction in which Chan had left, knowing he'd likely still be in the kitchen attempting to fetch you a drink.
It didn't take you long to find him, nor did it take you long to spot the girl standing next to him, seemingly flirting up a storm. Chan didn't seem too deterred by this either. More than anything, he appeared to he reciprocating.
Maybe this was why you and Chan started off as friends and remained so for the years you'd known each other. He always had a girl clinging onto him one way or another. Though he didn't date much, he sure enjoyed swooning girls whenever he could.
You'd always been very strict about being exclusive with whoever you dated, never wanting to compete for someone's attention or engage in prolonged talking stages. This was something you differed in with Chan. He was quite the opposite, engaging in situationships that never really led anywhere. As his friend, you never really cared much for this. If it worked for him, then that was that. However, now that he was supposedly attempting to pursue you, – despite you being in a relationship – you couldn't help but scoff at the sight of Chan still entertaining any girl that'd show interest in him.
You almost turned around and left, but were promptly stopped by the man himself, who spotted you before you could take one step and disregarded the girl immediately. The girl scoffed in your place, clearly put off by Chan's attention being taken away so easily.
"Babe!", he called out, one drink in each hand, as he approached you, "Sorry I took so long, the line was crazy."
Immaturely enough, you rolled your eyes and grabbed the drink from his hand, ignoring his statement as you sipped it. You really had no right to be jealous of Chan talking to other girls. You were taken, and you weren't even interested in Chan. Were you? Still, you disregarded those thoughts and allowed the bitterness to cloud your mind and began walking away from the boy.
"Huh?", a question mark physically manifested itself above Chan's head as you began walking away from him, "Baby? Wait, where are you going?", his arm managed to reach you before you got far enough and softly turned you around to face him.
The two of you were still standing far too close to the people crowding the kitchen, however, so Chan assessed that it'd be better to move to a quieter spot in order to properly check in on you. With a decisive nod to himself, he grabbed onto your hand and walked you over to an empty hallway before turning to you again.
"What's wrong? Did something happen while I was gone? Did someone-"
The concern in his eyes seemed very genuine, making you feel bad for being such a brat at the mere sight of Chan interacting with another woman. You had never had an issue with your best friend being around other women. Hell, you never even cared whenever he would occasionally ditch you for other girls. The two of you were simply best friends. You had always rooted for him in his romantic life, even encouraging him with it.
But things had drastically changed as soon as he began showing interest in you.
It was like his sudden interest had unlocked a part of you you hadn't known was there. It had given you this brand new possessiveness you had never held over Chan before; a possessiveness you didn't even feel for your current boyfriend.
And it made you feel embarrassed. Tremendously so. It also made you feel like a hypocrite. Here you had a guy who was clearly extremely into you, yet he had made no comment nor expressed any disdain over the fact that you already had a guy. Chan had never expressed any type of jealousy over any of your past relationships. Despite having liked you for the entire duration of your friendship (information you were unsure Chan was aware you knew), Chan always respected your relationships and even tried to befriend any guy you brought along. Yet you couldn't hold back your bitterness at him showing interest in someone else; interest you now felt should be reserved only for you.
The hypocritical nature of your feelings made you look down in embarrassment as you interrupted Chan's inquiries, clarifying that nothing was wrong.
"No, Chan. I'm fine, I swear. Just a little tired. I, uh, thanks for the drink."
"Hey, are you sure?", he lifted your face with a finger to your chin, making you hold eye contact with him.
It was quite insane how this was not even meant as a flirtatious move, but rather a demonstration of his platonic worry for you. Yet your heart sped up anyways.
"I'm fine, Chan! It's just the crowds. You know how I get. Nonnie told me to go look for you and there were so many people in the kitchen, and then I couldn't come up to you because of that girl and-"
Your rambles were interrupted by an exclamation mark practically manifesting itself above Chan's head, with the sudden realization of your jealousy hitting him.
"Oh?", he tilted his head and leaned in a bit closer as a grin began making its way onto his face, "'That girl'?", he repeated.
"Chan-"
He got closer to you, now cornering you against the hallway wall, still giving you space but blocking your view of anything other than him.
"I'm sorry, baby. Did that bother you? Hmm? Me talking to some other girl?"
"It's not like that! I just-"
"It's okay. You can admit it. I won't judge you," except his smirk was nothing but condescending.
"Chan! I-"
"But that's kinda funny, though. Isn't it?", he chuckled to himself.
"W-what is?," you stammered at his sudden shift in mood.
Though he was still far too close for a friend to be, and he was still leaning into your touch, his tone had shifted to one a bit more cynical in nature.
"You're jealous? Baby, you have a boyfriend."
"I do, and-"
"So what's there to be jealous about? You've got your guy. Yet you're looking my way? When you've been rejecting me all this time?", he leaned even closer, almost breathing right against your nose, eyes hooded as they bore into your own, alternating between your eyes and lips in a somewhat teasing manner.
"I-I'm not jealous. Just ... Why flirt with me if you're after other girls too?", you made the mistake of asking.
"Oh, baby. I'm not looking at anyone else. Not my fault you're so possessive you can't even stand other girls looking at me," you knew he was simply teasing you, knowing full well that you were not the possessive type. But his words carried a slight weight of truth behind them.
You had no reason to feel any type of possessiveness over Chan. Yet you still felt uneasy at the thought of Chan's eyes on anyone who wasn't you. Now that you had a taste of his attention you wanted it all to yourself.
"I just have one question," he whispered, far too close to you.
You nodded at him to continue, wide eyes on his own.
"Does he know?"
"Know what?"
"That you like me back," his eyes went down to your lips again.
"Chan. Stop. I-I'm not gonna cheat on my boyfriend," you huffed, avoiding his eyes – which was quite hard at his close proximity.
The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, with your eyes occasionally dropping to his lips. But it was fine, since his own were also on yours – though his expression was more triumphant than anything, while yours revealed your nerves. Had you been in a less restricting position, your thighs would've instinctively pressed together at the thoughts that were suddenly running through your mind at his proximity, but thankfully the situation didn't drag long enough for your lust to reveal itself.
He finally pulled away, smirk still on his face, "I'd never ask you to do that, baby. 's just nice to know my plan's working," he chuckled.
"What plan?"
"I'm wearing you down. You want me."
Unfortunately, you had no rebuttal, knowing that Chan had won this round. Even if you denied his statement (which you had half the mind to do), he had caught you red handed. You had whined about not having his full attention just like a petulant child would. Nothing you said would save you from that.
You managed to move on from that quite quickly, finding Soonyoung and Kwannie just a few moments later and using them as an excuse to move on from the way in which Chan had cornered you. You spent the rest of the party pondering Chan's words. Did you actually want him? Or was it just that you wanted him to want you?
Now you were stuck with embarrassing moisture between your thighs and countless doubts hanging over your head.
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"C-Channie! Oh, Channie, fuck!"
Your cries of pleasure were unparalleled as the pretty boy you liked to call your best friend slurped at your cunt like a starved man.
You weren't sure how long he had been at it, nor were you sure how you'd ended up in this situation, but you had no complaints. His tongue between your thighs was pure heaven, especially with the pathetic whines the boy kept letting out at your taste.
"'sso good, princess. Cunt's so tasty ... Been wanting it since I met you ... Been waiting for you for years," he mumbled against your cunt, getting back to licking and sucking immediately.
While your heart was unsure what to make of such a heavy statement, your body responded with desperation. To have a man yearn for you like that for years was doing wonders for your cunt. It made you gush like crazy, beginning to grind against Chan's face in such a depraved way.
"Just like that, fuck. Fuck my face just like that," he groaned, the vibrations of his voice causing you to grind even harder against him.
"C-Channie! It's so good ... So fucking good, oh!"
He seemed to get off on your praise, you realized, as you felt ruckus on the bed beneath you caused by Chan canting his hips against your mattress and moaning incessantly into your cunt. The knowledge of your taste alone making Chan lose himself in such a way was enough to drive you towards your high, getting closer and closer by the second.
"Gonna make me cum, princess. Got such a pretty fucking pussy," he managed to breathe out despite exerting all his efforts into fucking the mattress.
Surprising to no one, Chan claimed your orgasm on his tongue just moments later, somehow managing to talk you through it and make the experience even more swoon-worthy than it already was. Chan had managed to make you feel a way no one had ever before, making you ache for him with just his words.
It had all ended far sooner than you would've liked, but it was fine. You knew that with a few kisses to his ear Chan would give you whatever you wanted without question.
Yet before you could even get to enjoy the entirety of your high, it was abruptly taken from you the moment your alarm began ringing, awakening you from what you hadn't realized was just slumber.
Waking up from a wet dream was already embarrassing enough on its own, but waking up from a wet dream about your best friend whom you swore you weren't into like that was a new level of low.
As much as you tried to brush it off as some sort of fluke or meaningless dream, you knew better. You had never thought of Chan in such a way, much less imagined him in that context, so it was safe to say that Chan had been right. His plan was working.
~
The following hours were spent on alert (and still incredibly horny). You thought about calling up your boyfriend to help you out, but the thought in itself felt dirty. How could you ask your boyfriend to take care of a problem caused by your best friend? There was that, and the fact that your brain would probably not be satisfied by your boyfriend right now.
You needed to get Chan out of your system.
You knew that if you called up Chan and explained your problem to him he'd come running immediately, no questions asked as he helped you relive your dream. Such a thought had your head spinning and your knees feeling weak. Except you had a moral compass that was preventing you from doing so. So, you spent the next few hours extremely sensitive and attempting to take care of yourself in any way you could think of.
Unfortunately nothing compared to your dream. Nothing felt as warm and loving as Chan had felt. There was not a single thing that could bring back that feeling of want Chan had towards you; a feeling you were so desperate for. This led you to spend the rest of the day sexually frustrated, unable to reach your high as you felt something was thoroughly missing.
Even when your boyfriend stopped by to see you after work, things had gone awry. You'd received him at the door in a desperate manner, dragging him in with you and inciting him into fucking you. You didn't care if you had Chan in mind anymore, you just needed some satisfying release. Sadly, your boyfriend did not match your energy, opting to slow you down and have his way with you in his own way. This led to yet another unsatisfying release to add to today's tally. You were unsure if you could even call it a release, as it felt entirely underwhelming and had been mostly accomplished by your own hand.
Going to sleep, still sexually frustrated, you cursed at yourself for letting Lee Chan get in your head.
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Spending time with Chan after your incident was nothing less than incredibly awkward.
Despite Chan being fully unaware of what had gone down in your subconscious, you couldn't help the blush that would take over your face any time the two of you made eye contact. He had all the power at the moment.
You had also made the mistake of discussing the occurrence with your closest friends, Seungkwan and Soonyoung. Purposely, you had not mentioned the name of the culprit behind your wet dream, but it had not been hard for your nosy friends to figure it out on their own.
"You had a sex dream about Channie?!", Soonyoung had all but whispered, causing some old ladies across the diner to look your way in judgment.
Fortunately not too many people were present at the diner you were currently hanging out at, but it didn't really help the embarrassment you felt at the words even being uttered. This was the only time in which you could see your friends without Chan's presence, so you couldn't be too picky about the setting.
"Soonyoung! Shut the hell up!", you whisper-shouted at him, throwing a rolled up napkin at him in punishment, "I never said it was about Chan."
"Please. Who else would it be about? Sure as hell can't be about your vanilla boyfriend. And anyone else like Mingyu or Wonwoo would be too obvious for you to be so embarrassed about it. It has to be Chan," Seungkwan butted in nonchalantly.
"I- It's- my boyfriend is not vanilla!"
"You didn't deny it! It was Channie!", Soonyoung was far too excited at having guessed correctly.
Giving up, and knowing you needed some external input on your predicament, you nodded in shame, admitting to your sin in order to maybe get some advice on the situation.
"What do I do? I ... I can't stop thinking about it. Fuck, I can't even look at Chan in the eye anymore."
"Was it good?"
"Soonyoung, stop! That's not the point."
"He has a point. Not really worth ruining your relationship over some mediocre head," argued Seungkwan.
"Shut up! It- Fuck, it was so good," you groaned into your hands in utter embarrassment.
"Dude I knew Chan would be good at head. It's in his eyes. I'm telling you, people with those big doe eyes are freaks in bed," Soonyoung couldn't seem to stop spewing his headcanon of Chan at you.
"Or at least dream-Chan is," agreed Kwan.
"What do I do?! It won't leave my mind. I- I've already tried fucking it out of my head, but even then-"
"Hold on. You had sex with your boyfriend while thinking about Chan? Does he know?"
"Soonyoung!"
"Man, he'd pass out if he heard that. Do you know how many time's he's walked us through his sex dreams?", cackled Soonyoung.
This obviously caught your attention, making you widen your eyes and fastening the speed of your heartbeat.
Chan had had sex dreams about you too?
I mean, it should've been obvious considering the amount of dirty innuendos and straight-up proposals he's given you these past few weeks, but you had never actually thought about it in depth.
Fuck.
Chan wanted to fuck you.
The thought made you gulp and press your thighs together, actions your friends thankfully did not catch onto.
"He, uh, he's told you about his sex dreams about me?", you asked with a complete lack of confidence in your voice.
"God, don't even get him started," grumbled Seungkwan, slurping his almost empty americano before continuing, "It's Hoshi who keeps instigating him into telling us every excruciating detail."
Soonyoung nodded in confirmation, "Dude, he gets nasty," he whispers as if it was a sin to utter out loud – despite having previously aired your own sex dream to the whole diner.
God, were you interested in knowing more. But you couldn't blow your cover. You were far too horny and pent up already. Hearing about how your sexy (yes, you were at the point of shamelessly admitting it) best friend giving it to you in the nastiest scenarios imaginable would probably make you combust in front of your best friends and every other unsuspecting person in the establishment.
With dry lips and wetness already gathering between your thighs, you simply hummed in acknowledgment and moved on with the conversation, eventually managing to change subjects without giving away your cover.
~
Never in your life had you ever had such urgency in getting home.
Upon locking your front door, you immediately ran to your bed, undressing yourself in the process and getting ready to rid yourself of the ache between your legs that had been bothering you since that wretched dream.
You knew that you wouldn't be able to satisfy yourself as well as you wanted without Chan's aid (you'd tried endless times just a few days ago), but trying was better than nothing.
Getting yourself started was easy. All you had to do was remember the very vivid image of dream-Chan slobbering between your legs, begging you to use his face however you saw fit and claim your orgasm as if it were a god-given right.
But imagination wasn't enough.
You had half the mind to call up Chan right there and then and crying to him to please come and take care of you. The repeated knowledge that Chan would likely come to you with no question nor judgement made the task of holding back even harder. It made you cry at the frustration your fingers were giving you; they just weren't enough. Not even after the endless attempts these past few days had you been able to calm the fire between your legs. The last time you saw your boyfriend – just after your damned sex dream – had been yet another failed attempt. It seemed like nothing could truly get you there.
That's when you thought of the perfect thing.
Chan always had the tendency of either taking you home himself or sending you a short voice message to ensure you had arrived home safely – always insisting on one in return. This message always contained Chan's raspy voice after a long day of shenanigans, usually calling you one pet name or another as he checked in on you.
No matter how ashamed you felt at it, the burning between your legs did seem to diminish upon turning up the short voice message he had left you just last week. His words, accompanied by his voice, did wonders for your imagination.
"Hey, babe", it had started, "Just wanted to check in on you and make sure you got home okay. Need you to send me a message back as soon as you can, yeah?"
This had been enough to start you up again, the usual 'babe' nickname and the soft command causing an effect on you it never had in all your years of friendship.
"You looked so pretty today," he sighed, "Did I tell you that? Need to be telling you that every day. You're gorgeous. Don't even know how such a pretty girl puts up with us," he chuckled.
Oh, Channie ...
He'd always been so sweet to you. Such a fun friend, but also such a sweet boy who'd always coddle you and treat you better than anyone else. You could almost picture him swooning at you as he reminisced on the pretty dress you'd worn that day.
You couldn't think of anyone else who thought of you that fondly. Yet you were currently too busy using an unsuspecting Chan to get off after days of being pent up due to that same boy.
"Miss you already, gorgeous. Should've taken you home myself, ugh," he groaned at himself, "That way I would've at least gotten a goodnight kiss," he paused, chuckling, "on the cheek, of course."
It was probably just your horny brain talking, but had Chan been in front of you at that moment, you would've done far more than just kiss him. You didn't know where all this sudden lust for Chan had come from, but that dream had come with an epiphany. Maybe you'd been attracted to your best friend all this time.
"'Kay, Imma leave you now, okay, princess? Message me back when you're ready for bed, alright? You know how I worry. Goodnight, beautiful. I love you," he ended the recording with a soft kiss.
The short voice message wasn't enough to work yourself up to an orgasm, so you revisited as many of his old messages as you could, recalling some specially soft ones he'd send you where he'd call you all the petnames known to man and praise you enough to make you blush.
You also thought about what Soonyoung had said, how Chan's dreams about you would get nasty. You thought of every nasty thing the man was probably itching to do to you. You thought of how easily you'd let him if he was here at this moment.
Throughout it all, you pictured Chan and the actions that would accompany his words if he were in the room with you. You imagined the soft touches and the praise he'd spew endlessly at you. The eyes full of genuine love – mixed with a little lust – that would watch you as you came undone.
And come undone you did. It wasn't as good as it would've been with the real Chan present and taking care of you, but it sure beat the multiple unsatisfying orgasms you'd had in the past few days.
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"We broke up."
Those were your opening words upon approaching the usual table you shared with your friends.
This time Seokmin had decided to join.
"You what?"
"Because of Chan?"
"Really?!"
All responses were delivered simultaneously, making you groan as you sat down, knowing you were in for a lengthy interrogation from the three nosiest men you knew.
You covered your face in your hands and exhaled before unmasking yourself and facing your friends with seriousness in your demeanor.
"Didn't feel right when I kept thinking about Chan," you started, "He understood, which made it worse. Said he'd been too busy with work lately, was thinking of taking some time apart anyways."
It had been a few days since your wet dream about Chan. After your lonely escapade the night after – the night with the cursed voice memos – you had gone over to your boyfriend's place to end it. You hadn't hung out much in the past few weeks. There had been no spark for a bit. The goodness of your short-lived relationship was probably just the honeymoon period, which ended around the same time Chan decided to make his interest on you known.
It was all too much to deal with, so breaking it off seemed easier.
"Wow," aired Soonyoung.
"Yeah. Wow. How are you feeling?", asked Seokmin.
"I'm fine. Just, you know, feel kinda bad. I didn't want to be with someone if my heart wasn't fully in it," you mumbled, a little solemn.
"Does Channie know?"
"God, no. I've been avoiding him since," you eyed Kwan and Soonyoung, "uh, you know," you didn't want Seokmin to be yet another one of your friends to know about your sexual escapades in your slumber.
"Oh, you mean the sex dream?"
Your stare turned menacing, facing the only two possible culprits, "Who told him?"
"It was Soonie!", Seungkwan revealed immediately.
"Wait! No, I-"
"Did you tell anyone else? Oh my god, does Chan know?!"
"No! I only told Seokmin, I swear! He asked why we were meeting while Chan's working, so I told him."
"Don't worry, I won't tell. Scout's honor."
Seokmin held an innocent pinky towards you. Already done with the situation, you halfheartedly intertwined pinkies and moved on.
"So ... Channie?", Seungkwan asked once more.
"What about him?", you feigned curiosity.
"Playing dumb isn't gonna help things."
"What, do you want me to tell him about my dream?"
"That'd be kinda weird, man, I don't know," added Seokmin.
"I think it'd be hot."
"Soonyoung, shut up!", you told him for the nth time since the subject of your 'crush' on Chan had first come up.
Seungkwan side-eyed them before continuing, "No, but you like him, don't you?"
Did you? Did you actually like Chan?
Before Chan had showed interest in you, you had never considered it. Ever since you'd met him, Chan had always been nothing more than your best friend, your partner in crime. You had never felt as safe and comfortable with anyone as you had with Chan, and that was still the case. No boyfriend had ever made you feel as at ease as Chan always did.
His crush had brought out something in you. Had it been any other friend who suddenly revealed their feelings for you, you would've reacted in horror. But it was different with Chan. For some reason, you didn't feel put off by it, nor did you try to chase him away for his feelings for you. It wasn't one of those situations where the boy suddenly decides to pursue his girl-friend and ruins the friendship altogether. This had opened pandora's box for you, making you realize that Chan's affections would've always been welcomed by you.
Even if you jokingly rejected him or told your friends you had a boyfriend, it was all simply due to your moral compass. You weren't a cheater, so you couldn't take Chan too seriously even if you wanted to. But now you were single, and now you had to figure out if you really wanted Chan in the same way he wanted you.
"I know that I want him, but I need to make sure that I want him, you know? I'd never want to hurt his feelings or jeopardize our friendship just because I was horny one day."
"So you're scared it might just be that you're sexually attracted to him?"
"No, it's just ..."
"You want to know whether or not you like him and not just the attention he gives you."
It was surprisingly Soonyoung who had deciphered it.
"Y-yeah. Fuck. Does that make me a narcissist?"
"Nah. It's better to be sure. You've been friends with Channie since forever. It makes sense for you to wanna be cautious."
"You should probably stop avoiding him, though. He's, uh, starting to notice," revealed Seokmin.
"Yeah, he won't stop whining. Just put him out of his misery already," said Soonie.
"Okay, I guess I'll talk to him next time I see him."
You didn't really feel ready for it, but the time to confront Chan would have to come sooner or later.
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Next time you saw Chan was actually far too soon for your liking. Just the following day you found yourself at yet another house party; a small gathering among your friend group and some other people. It wasn't anything too big, so you knew that you'd inevitably bump into Chan.
It had only been about a week since you last spoke to Chan, but that had been a week too long. Throughout the duration of your friendship, the longest you ever went without constant communication had been three days, which had been a total accident on both your parts. The two of you would at least text once a day, even coming to have an unbroken streak of endless texts.
Fuck, you missed him.
Chan obviously must've noticed your lack of communication these past few days. You weren't even sure why you had decided to keep him in the dark. It wasn't just the wet dream (which was still haunting you, but had moved to the back burner for now), and it wasn't your breakup either. You were just confused about your feelings for the boy, but punishing him by icing him out had been far too much. Now you felt guilty.
You felt extra guilty when you finally spotted Chan across the party, sitting alone on a loveseat while he attempted but failed at discreetly looking over at you. He looked like a wounded puppy as he did so, pout on his lips and furrowed brows. It made you want to kiss the pout right off his face.
It was easy to tell that he wanted to approach you, but was simply trying his hardest to respect the boundary you had seemingly put up out of nowhere. This meant that you'd have to be the one to talk to him.
Then you took action, throwing away the drink you had been nursing and walking over to him, ignoring his shocked expression when you wordlessly grabbed his hand and pulled him to an empty room in the shared house. You locked the door and turned to him, unsure on what to say first.
Chan was the now the one to surprise you, immediately trapping you in a bear hug and burying his face in your shoulder, loudly breathing you in.
He didn't let go for a couple of minutes, even nudging you to keep hugging him back when you went to pull away.
When he finally let go, you finally had the chance to look at the boy for a moment.
Yeah, you liked him.
You had missed him far too much to be able to deny it.
You liked Lee Chan, and you were ready to let it be known to the world.
But then he started speaking.
"I'm so sorry," he started, utterly confusing you as to what he could be apologizing for, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I, fuck. I must've crossed a line with my flirting, and I never meant to. You're my best friend, and I need to respect you, an-and I need to respect your relationship. I thought that maybe somehow I could get you to see me as more than a friend, but it was stupid of me to assume you'd drop your boyfriend just because your dumb friend suddenly had a crush on you – which, uh, isn't the case, by the way," he looked down, embarrassed, "I've liked you since we met. So much. I assumed Hoshi must've told you by now. Anyways, I, uh, I'm really sorry. I'll stop. I will never bring it up again, just, fuck, please don't be mad. I'll take anything you give me. If friendship is what you want then I'll be the bestest friend you've ever had, just-"
It was impossible to take his senseless rambles anymore. You were getting too emotional at the thought of having put Chan through this turmoil when you had spent the last few days tending to the ache he had caused between your legs and subsequently breaking up with your boyfriend in order to figure out your feelings. It made you feel equally embarrassed and ridiculous, yet the effects of your silence made you begin to tear up at the apologetic boy in front of you.
Interrupting him, you hugged him again, somehow even tighter this time. This thankfully shut him up, allowing his body to lose its tension and letting himself become limp in your hold.
After some more moments of silent hugging, you were the one to pull away this time, giving him a sympathetic smile as you raised a hand to caress his cheek. It made you soon the way in which he leaned against your palm and gave you the sweetest smile known to man.
"Channie, you did nothing wrong ... I'm sorry for cutting you off like that, that was so wrong of me. I should've talked to you and told you how I was feeling. I wish I was half as confident about my feelings as you are, but I just felt so-" you paused, not knowing what you were even trying to express, "a-and then I just started avoiding you to avoid my feelings all together. I'm sorry."
"No, you have nothing to apologize for," he put his hands on your shoulders to ensure you were understanding his point, "I should've respected your boundaries. I never even should've tried to pursue you when I know you have a boyfriend, it was so-"
"had", you clarified, shy.
"what?"
"I had a boyfriend. We, uh, we broke up a few days ago."
"You ... Fuck, was it because of me?"
His eyes were like saucers, but you could see a small hint of a smile that he quickly wiped off when he realized the context of the situation.
"I want to say no, but ... yeah, I did."
Still feeling unbelievably ashamed at the memory of what had first led you to consider breaking up with your boyfriend, – a stupid wet dream you still couldn't get out of your mind – you avoided eye contact. Now you knew that that had only been the catalyst of realizing your feelings for Chan, but it still didn't help matters much, specially knowing that Chan would find out sooner or later.
"God, I'm so so sorry-"
"Chan! Stop apologizing! It wasn't because of anything you did. I just ... I realized some things these past few weeks and .. I realized we weren't really right for each other," you took a breath, "Not when you were all I could think about."
"Y-you ...?"
"I'm going to be candid, okay? Just, please don't interrupt."
He nodded, giving you the green light.
"A little over a week ago, uh, something happened. And then I couldn't keep you out of my mind. I tried talking to the guys, I even tried using my boyfriend as a distraction, but nothing worked. I started avoiding you because I just felt so awkward realizing I was beginning to develop feelings for you. It was wrong of me, but I needed time. I broke up with him because it didn't feel right to be with someone else while you were the only person I wanted around."
Saying it felt like a breath of fresh air. Not only were you admitting it to Chan, but also to yourself. Your friendship with Chan had never been your average friendship. Even before he had decided to begin shamelessly hitting on you, he had always been the sweetest and most caring boy you'd ever met. Sending you voice memos every time you went home alone, always being in charge of getting your drinks, driving you wherever you wanted, being overly affectionate with you any time he felt you might've needed it. The boy had always been the perfect match for you, you just couldn't grasp it until he began to literally shove it in your face.
"What made you realize it?"
Not expecting him to question you, but rather just accept your sudden change of heart, you hadn't thought of how to explain to him that a sex dream was what had brought you to this epiphany.
But what did you have to lose at this point? Most of your friends already knew, and to be quite frank, you still wanted Chan extremely badly. Telling him wouldn't be the end of the world.
"I, uh, I had a dream about you ..." you muttered, eyes avoiding his own.
His already wide eyes widened even more, a smirk forming itself on his features as he tilted his head in question.
"Uhm, care to repeat that for me?"
"Chan, shut the fuck up. You heard me."
"I didn't! Just tell me. Please?"
With a sigh, you repeated yourself, this time a little more clear, "I had a dream about you."
"Uh-huh. What type of dream?"
"Chan!"
"Princess, please. I embarrassed myself for you for weeks. I pined for you for years. Just give me what I wanna hear," he pleaded, somehow cocky in the way he did so.
"Fuck, fine. I had a wet dream about you. I dreamt about you between my legs, giving me the greatest orgasm I've ever experienced and begging me for more. I dreamt of your pathetic whines while I ground my cunt on your face. And then I woke up before I could cum. I spent the entire day trying to get that feeling back but nothing worked, Chan, nothing. I couldn't look you in the eyes after that so I just avoided you."
Finally giving him the most candid version of the events made you feel a weight leave your shoulders, specially upon realizing that the boy who currently held your heart had been rendered unable to use this as ammunition against you as you watched his cocky expression turn into one of lust.
"Oh," he breathed out. Taking a few moments to regain his composure, he spoke up again, "W-was that it? Or do you, uh, do you also like me back?"
"I like you, Chan. So much. The dream was just what made me realize that I wanted you in every way imaginable."
A decisive expression now took over his face, nodding to himself before moving closer to you, taking up all your personal space.
"That's all I needed to know," he declared before claiming your lips in a heated kiss.
Chan kissed you with everything he had to give. The kiss immediately grew lustful, with Chan licking into your mouth for access the second you made the smallest sound of surprise. And, fuck was Chan a great kisser.
His tongue was practically making love to yours, rendering your legs weak and shaky. Thankfully Chan realized this, pushing you to the nearest wall so that he could continue to take over all your senses.
Scratching and pulling at his hair, you caused Chan to moan against your lips, only making you whine in return. Chan took this as a sign to move forward, beginning to grind his expert hips against your own. Already hard, Chan's clothed cock felt like heaven against your burning cunt. You had begged for a proper release for days, and you were now afraid that some light dry humping would be enough to take you there before you could finally relive your dream.
But did you care? Did you care enough to halt Chan's movements when they were already making your eyes roll back? Your body made the decision for you, pushing your hips against his own and making him release a gruttal groan against your lips.
"N-need you so fucking bad ..." he breathed against your lips, barely able to get a word out as you insisted of licking into his mouth as he spoke. This made him groan again, "Princess, please ... You're gonna kill me."
Pulling away, you grabbed his hands and placed them on your breasts, making eyed at him as you spoke, "Channie, just touch me. Don't care what you do, just ... just take care of the problem you caused."
He whined at the feeling of your body at his palms, immediately groping and feeling up every inch of your body before trapping your mouth in another heated kiss. His hands soon became too desperate to feel you through your clothes, carelessly unwrapping you from every piece of clothing he could. He left you in your underwear, having thrown off your dress and holding onto your hands so you could haphazardly kick off your shoes. Chan's clothes joined soon after, with his own hands throwing off all but his boxers.
Before he could claim your lips in a kiss again, you grabbed him by the hand, leading him to a nearby couch in order to sit him down. Sitting on his lap, you kissed him again and again, thoroughly enjoying how liberal his hands were in the way he touched you.
Finally throwing off your bra, you felt up your tits a bit as Chan watched you with a pained look in his face, mouth open and eyes glued to your breasts. His lips attached to your tits immediately after, going crazy in the way he suckled and bit at them.
"You're so fucking gorgeous," he mumbled against your tit, "Fuck, dreamt about you every night ... This pretty body and all your pretty noises. Can't believe I get to have you now," he kissed his way back up to your neck, hands never halting in their caressing of your body.
He pulled away to look into your eyes – though his eyes kept dropping to your lips, "You're embarrassed about your dream?", he chuckled, "Want me to tell you some of mine? Hmm?", he began to manhandle you, positioning you so that you could lay horizontally on the couch and he could lay above you, "So fucking nasty, baby, it'd make you blush."
"Channie ..."
"Gonna do so many nasty things to you. Want me to whine for your pussy? Oh, baby ... Gonna beg for pussy every day, shit," his hand went down to rub your wet cunt through your panties, "'sso wet," he groaned, "Gonna lick it all up again and again. Need to suffocate between these thighs," he made his way down your body as he said this, eventually coming face to face with your cunt.
Leaving a kiss on your weeping cunt, he licked through your panties, causing you to arch your back for him and throw your head back. The warmth of his tongue could've been enough to claim your orgasm, but somehow you persisted.
Chan became desperate for you quickly after that, removing your panties and lifting your thighs so that he could finally bury himself between your legs the way you'd been wanting him to for so long.
"Channie, fuck!," you cried, pulling at his hair while pushing his head further against you.
"Use me. God, just ... Grind that cunt against me ..."
And so you did. You took advantage of your pretty best friend's desperation for you and employed your own desperation for him. To any outsider, you must've looked like the image of depravity as you used Chan for your pleasure, but Chan was just as depraved. You could feel the couch shake from under you, indicating the way in which Chan ground against it as you claimed your orgasm on his tongue.
Riding your high was an incomparable experience. No one had ever made you feel as much pleasure as Chan had. Not even dream-Chan lived up to reality.
You could've sworn you lost consciousness for a few moments after your high, feeling completely weightless when it had finally died down. Your ability to think only came back by the time Chan had climbed back up your body and kissed at your chest once more, smiling at you when he finally reached your lips.
Instead of sharing a sweet moment with him, you claimed his lips once more and licked every last bit of your essence from his mouth. He groaned and allowed his tongue to mingle with yours in such a nasty manner that it made you blush when you remembered that Chan was nothing more than your best friend less than an hour ago.
"Let me fuck you," Chan pleaded when he finally managed to pull away from your greedy lips.
"How do you want me?", you asked as your lips tried to reclaim his yet again. Fuck, he was such a good kisser.
"Fuck. I get to choose?"
You couldn't help but be endeared by him. Also incredibly turned on by how much he clearly wanted you.
Without another word, he repositioned you so you'd be on your hands and knees, running his hand down your back to press the arch of your back a little deeper. He groaned at the sight of you arching your back as deliciously as you could, wiggling your ass as you looked back at him with a cheeky smile, lip trapped between your teeth.
"I've been waiting for this for years, shit. I'm not gonna last."
That made you giggle, continuing to press yourself up against him to get him to break.
"Just fuck me, Channie. Promise it's gonna feel so good."
"Yeah, baby. Gonna fuck you so good."
His tip then finally made contact with your cunt, being dragged up and down your folds as you whined at the feeling. He finally began to penetrate you after becoming too desperate himself.
"You're so fucking warm ..." he breathed out.
Sighing out at the fullness, you pushed back against him, encouraging him to begin fucking into you. Chan took no time in following your lead, adopting a desperate pace almost immediately.
The sounds of skin slapping took over the room, only accompanied by sighs and moans of pleasure from you or Chan. The occasional whiny praise also left his lips every so often. The needy way in which he fucked you had you reeling. Chan had the ability to make you feel extremely desired and like getting to fuck you was the greatest privilege known to man. The way his hands caressed you and his pleas for you to 'please push it back on him' made the experience all the more dreamy to you.
Dream-Chan truly stood no chance to the real one.
"Princess, gonna- fuck, gonna fucking cum. W-where can I?", he grunted from behind, his thrusts somehow becoming even more animalistic.
There was no moment of hesitation in your voice – though shaky from the way in which Chan rutted against you – when you gave him the green light to cum inside you. His groan upon your confirmation only made your back arch even more. Chan's want for you continued to make you feel lightheaded.
Halfway through his own orgasm, Chan triggered your own through the way his hand dipped under you and toyed with your clit. After only one day with you, your best friend already knew how to get you there immediately. He talked you through your orgasm, giving you endless praise about how beautiful you were, how he didn't deserve such a pretty bestie to fuck so good, how he'd beg for you day after day if necessary.
Upon your highs wearing down, Chan managed to reposition you so you could lay next to him. (though almost entirely on top of him) He held you close to him, soft in the way he ran his fingers up and down the length of your arm, enjoying the goosebumps forming. His hand would eventually go over to your face and caress your cheek while his nose rubbed against your own. Treating you like a doll, Chan made you swoon yet again.
"I love you."
Then the world stopped.
"I'm sorry I didn't say it before. It wasn't just a crush. I'm in love with you. And ... and I want you to be mine. Will you be my girlfriend?"
It was all whispered against you, with a soft smile accompanying the whispered words.
"I love you too," the words left your mouth so naturally you were sure they'd been stuck there forever, "Yes, Channie. I'll be your girlfriend," you couldn't help but smile as you said those words.
"Fuck, thank God," he breathed out, hugging you to him, "I never would've gotten over you if you said no. The guys never would've heard the end of it."
He made you laugh, as per usual.
You knew things would only change for the better, so you weren't scared about the change in dynamic that was to come from letting Chan out of the friendzone. All you felt was excitement to finally be with him without guilt.
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content: established relationship, chan's pov, banter, smut, oral (m receiving), mentions of lingerie, teasing, dry humping, riding, etc.
wc: 695 (teaser); 1773 (full drabble)
sneak peak:
Chan had waited for this moment for years. The moment he finally had you all to himself and the moment that would start the rest of his life with you.
Sleeping with you last night had somehow surpassed his craziest of dreams – and he had dreamt about it a lot.
The feeling of your soft skin under his fingertips, the way you moaned against his mouth as his tongue suckled on yours, the sight of your bare body, the feeling of your hands caressing every inch of his body, the taste of your wet cunt ... fuck. He could go on forever reminiscing about you and how obsessed with your touch he had already become.
It had only been a bit over a day since he had woken up next to you on that couch. Granted, the sleep had been slightly uncomfortable, but he had gotten to feel your warm skin against his own as he slept, so it had been worth it.
After some sheepish reaffirmation of your feelings for one another, you had redressed and left the shared house, pinkies intertwined as you went home. Sadly, you had busy days, so you weren't able to see one another at all throughout the following 24 hours. But! You had agreed to see each other tonight for a quiet dinner at Chan's apartment – courtesy of Mingyu's cooking.
Opening the door to his apartment, Chan's chin practically hit the floor when he spotted you in that dress.
Chan had seen you in all types of getups throughout all his years of knowing you. He had obviously seen you in the prettiest of dresses, the tightest and most sinfully tailored pieces. But nothing compared to the pretty little thing you were currently donning.
It was a black slip dress. It wasn't too tight nor too loose. The fabric barely covered his favorite parts of your body, making him reminisce on how they looked without anything covering them at all. You were also shamelessly donning the few hickeys he had left on you just one day ago. Chan was convinced you'd been sent on this Earth to ruin him, to make him a shell of himself and rid him of any ability to act as a functional human being.
The dinner went quite well. You and Chan were far too used to each other for it to go anything but perfect. Your usual banter was present, though Chan now had the privilege of running his hand up and down any sliver of skin he could reach as you teased him about one thing or another. He enjoyed the innocent touches he could give you without any sense of guilt you might be taken by some loser who didn't deserve you. The right to touch you was now entirely reserved by him, just as it should've always been.
It was all perfectly innocent until it wasn't.
Eventually moving to the couch to entertain yourselves with some streaming service, you cuddled against each other. This was an ordinary occurrence between you even as friends. Sure, the cuddling was now a little extra close – with you practically sitting on his lap – but it wasn't anything too intimate so far.
It seemed like this wasn't enough for you, though. It didn't take you too long to move onto his lap, now sitting on top of him while his arms wrapped around your middle. Chan chose to just follow along with whatever position you wanted to cuddle in, just happy to be there at all. Your hands would play with his own, clearly not attentive to the movie at all.
Innocently at first, you rubbed your own hands up and down his arms. This later came to you leading his hands to rub up and down the expanse of your thighs, coming up high enough to lift up most of your skirt. This then evolved into you dipping one of his hands to rub against your panties.
Chan's eyes rolled back when he felt the warmth of your cunt under his hand, already moist and ready for him. You kept pressing his hand against you, so Chan took the hint to play with you.
...
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erensfeed · 8 days ago
Text
Everyone wished they had a relationship like yours and Zayne’s.
You were the kind of couple people watched with faint fond smiles, whispering to each other on how deeply in love you two looked.
The way Zayne’s steady calmness balanced with your playful energy, and how he’d give you soft smiles whenever you teased him, made nearby people admire you both dearly.
What was there not to like?
With what is said on opposites attracting? You were the perfect example because the two of you effortlessly made the impossible look easy wherever you went.
Zayne’s coworkers had noticed the change first—the way he’d started smiling more when his phone buzzed, or how he didn’t mind when they teased him about whatever text you’d sent that left him blushing.
He hadn’t been like that before. You didn’t know how much you’d pulled him out of a shell most people assumed he’d never leave. You could say you had some idea but not the full extent.
Whenever you would come visit, his coworkers would joke in a quiet, almost reverent way, about how different Zayne had become since he started dating you. At work, he’d always been that quiet guy who only spoke when he was spoken to. But after you? He was different. He smiled and even laughed more, even at jokes he would never. Genuine, full laughs that were so warm and inviting, prior to his cold and stoic reactions — until one got to know him at least.
Hanging out with both you and Zayne always felt like something also worth remembering.
There was a time at your favorite ice cream shop, you’d invited Greyson and Yvonne to tag along with you both. It was supposed to be a casual quick dessert hangout after work, but you thought it would be one of those moments that would be better shared with others.
Zayne had just finished a quick call that cut through your light conversation a bit, and you’d barely waited for him to put his phone back in his pocket before you sneaked your spoon toward his ice cream dish. With an instinctive and quite effortless flick, he caught you in the act, his spoon blocking yours.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t think I would catch that?” Zayne narrowed his eyes at you, as he was watching your face shift into a shocked expression with a small smirk.
You’d almost forgotten that your boyfriend had such a sweet tooth and you were playing a dangerous game.
“Hey, I was testing the quality control!”
“Oh, really?” While you were distracted by looking at him, he took advantage of the opening and scooped a generous bite from your bowl instead. “How’s this for quality?”
You watched, even more amused, as he took a chunk of your ice cream with a tiny victorious smile. “You did not.”
As his smile grew, he shrugged innocently, the spoon sliding back into his mouth before you decided to go for an even bigger scoop from his. But he caught you again, once more blocking your move with such swiftness.
“No, you are so gonna pay for that,” You laughed as you basically just declared a dessert war on him, making everyone at your table laugh along.
What followed was a tiny duel of clinking spoons, your mock battle ever so intense, that your friends couldn’t help but watch with endearing smiles. It didn’t matter if their own desserts would melt because they didn’t mind. They loved seeing Zayne like that.
They loved seeing you both like that.
。𖦹 ° . ⋆
Zayne glanced down at his phone on the same restaurant’s table, the lock screen lighting up with a picture of you lovingly pressing a kiss to his cheek, staring back at him. A notification buzzed through—perhaps something mundane—but he couldn’t bring himself to open it.
It’d been a year.
Nothing could ever be as important.
Even though the ice cream didn’t taste the same anymore since he lost you, he finished it in silence anyway. Before leaving, he left a generous tip on the table, then stepped out into the autumn drizzle.
The air was crisp, cool against his face, and tinged with rain.
This was the exact kind of weather you used to love.
The kind you would’ve shared a kiss in, or maybe even played around together with him in, until you caught a cold when it started raining and he had to take care of you, despite his warnings about how terrible of an idea it would be.
At the thought, the ghost of a smile tugged at his lips before it slowly vanished again.
As Zayne slipped into his car, the rain began to pick up, hitting the windshield in a familiar, rhythmic pattern. He glanced at the passenger seat, the space you used to occupy still empty, making him look ahead once more as he started the car.
He drove aimlessly for a while, the streets blurring in the rain. He passed the street where you’d first bumped into him, spilling your drink all over his jacket in the most chaotic yet loveable way. He remembered how embarrassed you were, how quickly you apologized, how beautiful you were when flustered.
How he…
He trailed off in his thoughts. Then he let out a shaky exhale before swallowing hard, trying to think of any other thing. He couldn’t help himself as he looked outside the window.
You really would’ve loved the weather today.
Gloomy yet soft, with just the right amount of rain to make you sigh contentedly and lean into his warmth.
He knows you would have.
He would’ve also loved the chance to experience that moment with you.
At work, his coworkers had long noticed it. They’d started whispering again too. They’d noticed how he’d stopped smiling again, how the sharpness in his eyes had returned, how he barely spoke unless absolutely necessary. How he was here but not really here.
It was now like every part of him had locked up.
For good this time.
They had never seen him like this before—not even before you. He’d really shut himself off completely, the only thing left of him being the rigid, distant exterior he had perfected in the years before you ever came into his life.
“Dr. Zayne?”
Greyson’s voice pulled him back to the present as he held the coffee cup he got him. Greyson’s eyes searched his face for a sign of recognition, but all he found again was the same cold, empty look Zayne had been wearing for months now.
“Oh, thank you,” he accepted the drink, stiffly, then gently settled it down on his desk, never meeting Greyson’s worried gaze.
Greyson watched him for a beat too long, waiting for something — maybe a sign that Zayne was still in there somewhere. But Zayne didn’t meet his eyes. He couldn’t.
If he looked… if he acknowledged the concern there, it might break him.
So instead, he focused on the screen in front of him, typing mechanically, anything to drown out the silence between them. Taking that as a cue to leave, Greyson softly nodded and did so, knowing that any attempt to try to talk would once again be a fail.
When Greyson walked outside, he met the eyes of the hospital coworkers gathered outside Zayne’s door. They shook their heads, exchanging sad, disappointed glances.
Another day without a full conversation with Zayne.
Another day of keeping everyone out.
Another day without you.
Zayne knew it all and it hurt him.
But he also knew that it was easier this way. Easier to keep everything locked down. Easier to pretend he didn’t feel the ache in his chest every time he thought of you, especially after they asked how he was.
Easier to be the Zayne everyone used to know, the one who never showed any sign of vulnerability.
And yet, he also knew that you wouldn’t have wanted this for him. You wouldn’t have wanted him to shut the world out. Not for you.
You always believed in him, knew how strong he was. How mentally stronger than he thought he was. You’d never quit reminding him in all your moments together.
But now, as he sat there in the silence, it felt impossible to hold onto any of that.
The truth was he didn’t know how to do this — all this anymore.
He didn’t know how to keep pretending.
The moon was out again tonight, the same one you used to talk to him under, on those long, quiet summer nights when you two would lie on a blanket in the grass in your backyard, your head resting on his chest.
He hated how it felt to look at it now.
So far away, so unreachable.
He remembered how you used to compare him to the moon, even though he felt otherwise. He always thought of you as his light in the dark, which made him start calling you his moonlight too.
At the memory, he stared into the serene night sky as the moon cast a pure pale glow, his eyes glimmering, holding back the storm of emotion within.
“I miss you,” he managed to whisper, his voice breaking on the words. “So much.”
But the moon didn’t respond.
And for the first time in a long time, Zayne wasn’t sure he could keep going without you.
It’d been a year, after all.
A year since he lost his moon.
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