#Had a conversation with a friend where i was like | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heliosunny · 17 hours ago

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Omg your writings are so scrumptiously delicious 😋 I always come back to read them again And again especially the phainon ones! Agh they are soo good! Also been wondering since you wrote Yan! Phainon× vamp! reader... how about Yan! vamp!phainon×reader..if that's okay... Have a great day/evening/night!

Yandere!Vampire Phainon x Reader

[artist]

The sun dipped low over the village, casting golden light across the cobbled streets. Laughter echoed between stone walls as a group of children ran through the narrow alleys, their feet kicking up dust. You were among them, breathless and grinning, trying to keep up with the boy ahead of you.

“You’re too slow, Y/N!” Phainon teased, turning back with a wide grin. His silver-white hair gleamed under the fading light, and his bright blue eyes sparkled with mischief.

“I’m not slow! You’re just unfairly fast!” you huffed, trying to catch him.

Phainon only laughed, effortlessly dodging your outstretched hands. Behind you, the others—Mydei, Anaxa, and a handful of others called out, egging you both on.

“Give Y/N a chance, Phainon!” one of them yelled.

“Yeah, don’t be mean.” Anaxa added, though his voice was laced with amusement.

Phainon slowed just enough for you to reach him, letting you tug on the sleeve of his tunic. “Caught you!” you declared triumphantly.

Instead of pulling away, Phainon tilted his head, smiling. “Guess that means I belong to you now” he said lightly.

“You’re weird.” you muttered, but you didn’t let go of his sleeve.

The warmth of the evening settled over you all as you made your way to the village outskirts. Beyond the fields, a small grove of trees offered a quiet retreat from the watchful eyes of adults. It was your group’s favorite place, a hidden world where you could be anything you wanted.

Mydei flopped onto the grass with a dramatic sigh. “I’m tired. Someone should carry me home.”

“You have legs” Anaxa scoffed, sitting down beside him. “Use them.”

You chuckled and sat next to Phainon, who stretched out lazily. The golden hour made his pale skin glow, and for a moment, he seemed almost otherworldly. You’d always thought he looked a little different, but then again, all of them did. The village women sometimes whispered about it, about their unnaturally striking features, their strange presence—but you never paid much attention. They were your friends. That was all that mattered.

Phainon leaned close, resting his chin on his palm as he watched you. “You’re staring” he teased.

You blinked, startled. “I was not.”

“You were” he insisted, grinning. “Do I look that handsome to you?”

“You’re annoying” you muttered, lightly shoving his shoulder.

He only laughed.

The conversation shifted to plans for tomorrow, with Mydei complaining about chores and Anaxa suggesting another race through the village. You listened, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that Phainon’s eyes were still on you.

You didn’t know then that Phainon had already decided.

Years Later

The group was no longer whole.

Time had worn down the bonds of childhood, and the innocence of those golden days had long since faded. Some had drifted apart, others had changed in ways you could barely recognize. The carefree days of running through the village had been replaced with whispers in the dark—secrets you weren’t privy to.

And yet, Phainon remained.

“You’re quiet tonight” he remarked, setting down a goblet as he leaned back in his chair.

You looked up from your seat across from him, the dim candlelight flickering between you. “Just thinking.”

Phainon studied you, his blue eyes sharp despite his ever-present smile. “About what?”

You hesitated. Should you say it? That you had noticed the strange way the others carried themselves, the way they whispered behind closed doors? That some of them had started keeping odd company—company that left them with faint red marks on their throats?

That the people you once knew felt like strangers?

Instead, you sighed. “I don’t know. Things just feel… different.”

Phainon tapped his fingers against the table. “People change” he said simply. “But I haven’t, have I?”

You glanced at him. No—Phainon hadn’t changed. He was still the same bright, teasing boy from your childhood. Always smiling, always close.

“You haven’t” you admitted, but the words felt strange on your tongue.

Phainon tilted his head, his gaze unreadable. Then, he smiled.

Outside, the night stretched on, and somewhere in the darkness, something shifted.

Something you weren’t meant to see.

The place was hidden, tucked away in the shadows of the city’s underbelly. It wasn’t a tavern, nor a brothel, but something worse—a gathering ground for those who lurked in the dark, where morality had long been forgotten.

Phainon moved through the dimly lit corridors like a specter, his presence drawing wary glances. They knew him here. Knew his name, his strength. Even among vampires, he was a force to be feared.

A low murmur caught his ear.

In the far corner, a vampire, one who owed him a great deal, had cornered a trembling girl. Her breath hitched as the man leaned in, fingers curling around her throat.

Phainon barely spared them a glance.

It wasn’t his problem. It wasn’t his concern. The weak suffered, the strong took what they wanted. That was the way of things.

He stepped forward to leave. And then, without warning, the image shifted. For a brief, horrifying second, it wasn’t some nameless girl in that man’s grip. It was you.

His body went rigid.

Would he still walk away? Would he still ignore it?

The thought sent something ugly curling in his chest.

A slow inhale. A measured exhale. He forced his body to relax. It wasn’t you. It would never be you. You weren’t meant for places like this.

Still, the unease lingered.

With a final glance at the struggling girl, Phainon turned and walked away, the thirst in his throat demanding attention. He needed something to quiet his thoughts, someone to satisfy his hunger.

As he stepped deeper into the night, a realization settled within him.

If it had been you, if anyone had dared to touch you, he wouldn’t have hesitated.

The morning sun filtered through the trees as you went about your daily routine. It was rare, almost strange, not to have Phainon lingering nearby, flashing that easy smile of his or teasing you about something trivial.

Maybe he was busy.

It wasn’t unusual for him to disappear at times, though he always returned like nothing had happened. You never asked where he went, and he never told you.

Today, the village was as lively as ever. You made your way through the familiar paths, exchanging greetings with the townsfolk and stopping briefly to chat with Anaxa, who seemed preoccupied with something.

“You seen Phainon?” you asked casually.

Anaxa snorted. “No, and I don’t plan on looking for him either.”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “Just… sometimes, it’s better not to know where he goes.”

The words sat uneasily with you, but before you could press further, someone called your name from across the street.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of small errands, idle conversations, and the comforting normalcy of routine. Yet, beneath it all, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

By the time evening rolled around, the absence felt heavier.

Phainon always found you before the day ended. Always.

So why wasn’t he here?

The next morning, Phainon appeared as if he had never been gone.

He leaned against the doorway of your home, arms crossed, a lazy grin on his face. “Miss me?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small, relieved breath you let out. “You wish.”

He only chuckled, falling into step beside you as if no time had passed. And just like that, things returned to normal. You didn’t ask where he had been, and he didn’t offer an explanation. That was how it always was.

That evening, your mother handed you a small parcel wrapped in cloth. “Take this to your grandmother, will you? But be careful, don’t linger too long. It’ll be dark soon.”

You reassured her with a smile before setting off. The road was familiar, winding through the outskirts of the village, lined with tall trees that cast long shadows as the sun dipped below the horizon.

By the time you started heading back, the last traces of daylight had faded. The path home felt different at night—quieter, colder. The wind whispered through the trees, and somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted.

Then, the silence broke.

A rustle.

You stopped, heart thudding in your chest. The trees swayed, their branches casting twisted shadows across the path. It was probably just an animal.

Then you heard it—breathing.

Before you could turn, something slammed into you, knocking you to the ground. A weight pinned you down, cold fingers gripping your shoulders.

“Smells good...” a voice rasped above you.

Your breath caught as you looked up, meeting the hungry, gleaming eyes of a man. No—a vampire. His lips curled, revealing sharp fangs.

“Let go of me!” You struggled, panic surging through your veins.

He chuckled, amused by your resistance. “I haven’t fed in days. Just a little taste—”

Then, in an instant, he was gone- ripped away.

The weight lifted, and before you could process what had happened, a sickening crack echoed through the air. A strangled cry followed, cut short as something heavy hit the ground.

Shaken, you pushed yourself up.

And then you saw Phainon who stood a few feet away, his back turned to you. At his feet, the vampire lay crumpled, twitching weakly. One of his arms bent at an unnatural angle.

“You picked the wrong person” Phainon murmured.

The injured vampire let out a choked whimper. “I— I didn’t know—”

“You didn’t know?” Phainon repeated, tilting his head. “Didn’t know they were mine?”

“Please—”

Phainon sighed. Then, without hesitation, he stepped forward and crushed the man’s throat beneath his heel.

Your heart pounded as you watched him. He turned to you, his usual warmth still present—but now laced with something darker.

“You’re trembling” he said softly, stepping closer.

You couldn’t move.

Then, ever so gently, he reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from your face.

“You should be more careful, Y/N.”

His fingers lingered.

“I’d hate to lose you.”

Your vision blurred. Your breath came in shallow gasps, but it wasn’t enough—your chest tightened, the world tilting as cold sweat slicked your skin.

Phainon. The vampire’s broken body. The blood pooling beneath him.

“Ah—” Phainon exhaled, amused yet concerned. “I suppose that was a bit much for you.”

The last thing you saw before the darkness swallowed you whole was the serene, almost affectionate smile on his face.

You stirred, eyes fluttering open. You weren’t outside anymore. Dim candlelight flickered against wooden walls—your room.

“You’re awake” Phainon murmured.

He was sitting at your bedside, one arm draped lazily over the chair, watching you with a quiet intensity.

Your body tensed. The memory rushed back all at once—the attack, the vampire, the way Phainon had crushed his throat like it was nothing.

Your fingers clenched the sheets. “You—”

“I carried you home”

Silence stretched between you.

“I took care of it. No one will ever touch you again.”

“You… killed him.”

Phainon didn’t flinch. If anything, he seemed almost puzzled by your reaction. “Of course.”

The boy you had grown up with, the one who had laughed with you, teased you, stayed by your side—had crushed a man’s throat without hesitation.

Phainon leaned closer, reaching out slowly, as if not to startle you. His fingers brushed your wrist, light and careful. “You’re safe with me” he murmured.

Days passed.

Phainon left you alone, giving you space to recover, though he never strayed too far. You could feel his presence even when he wasn’t visible—watching, waiting.

But the fear that had once taken root inside you began to shift.

Curiosity gnawed at your thoughts.

Where did he go at night? What kind of life did he lead beyond the smile he showed you?

And more importantly—how much had he hidden from you?

So, when the sun dipped below the horizon, you made your choice.

You pulled on a cloak, wrapping it tightly around yourself before slipping into the night.

Phainon was easy to track. He moved with a confidence that came from knowing no one could touch him, his form barely more than a whisper in the darkness.

You followed carefully, staying just out of sight.

The path led away from the village, past old roads and tangled trees, into the underbelly of a world you had never seen before.

And then—you found it. The Hidden Den.

The place was alive with a dark, pulsing energy. Torches flickered against stone walls, casting long shadows over the twisted gathering.

Vampires lounged on crimson-draped couches, fangs sinking into willing throats as girls draped themselves over their laps. Others inhaled thick, perfumed smoke from ornate pipes, their pupils blown wide with pleasure.

On one side, blood was being poured into goblets like fine wine, passed between hands in hushed trades. In another corner, a vampire licked fresh crimson from his fingers while a dazed-looking woman trembled beside him, her pulse sluggish.

This was what he was part of?

A sick fascination mingled with your horror. You wanted to turn away—but you couldn’t.

A presence loomed behind you.

Before you could react, a hand gripped your shoulder and yanked you back into the shadows. Your back hit a cold wall. A figure loomed over you, silver hair catching the dim light.

Phainon.

But this wasn’t the version of him you knew.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to wander where you don’t belong?”

You looked up at Phainon, at the way the dim torchlight cast shadows over his face—sharpening his features, making him seem even more untouchable. His grip on your shoulder was firm, grounding.

But you weren’t afraid.

You were angry.

"Is this what you're into?" you demanded, voice sharp, cutting through the low hum of sinful indulgence around you. "Is this the kind of place you belong to?"

Phainon's expression didn’t waver, but his fingers twitched slightly against your shoulder.

You continued, ignoring the cold air brushing against your skin. "I don’t want you here. You’re better than this."

His lips parted slightly in surprise. Then, amusement flickered in his gaze. "Better than this?" he echoed. "And what makes you think that?"

"Because I know you" you said without hesitation.

A moment of silence stretched between you, taut with unspoken things. Then Phainon exhaled softly, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe you. His grip finally loosened, but he didn’t step away. Instead, his eyes drifted downward—toward your exposed wrist, where your pulse beat strong beneath your skin.

"You followed me all this way" he murmured. "Was it just to scold me?"

You hesitated for only a second before speaking.

"If you’re that thirsty, drink from me instead."

Phainon blinked.

And then he laughed.

"You’re unbelievable." he said, voice hushed.

But he didn’t refuse.

Phainon leaned in slowly, watching you carefully, as if waiting for hesitation. But you didn’t flinch. His fingers brushed against your wrist, tilting it slightly. His lips ghosted over your skin.

And then—

A sharp sting, followed by warmth.

Your breath caught as his fangs pierced your skin, precise and careful. It wasn’t painful, not really. A strange, tingling sensation spread through you, your body growing light, unsteady.

Phainon made a quiet sound against your skin, like a sigh of relief, like he had been waiting for this. His grip was gentle, his touch reverent. And just as quickly as it started, it was over.

He pulled back, licking the last drops of crimson from his lips. "You taste too good for your own good" he murmured, almost to himself.

You barely heard him.

Because suddenly, the heavy perfume in the air—the scent of blood, of incense, of whatever drugged haze lingered in this place crashed down on you all at once.

Your knees buckled.

Phainon's arms were around you before you could hit the ground.

"Ah," he breathed, catching you easily. "Didn’t think that one through, did you?"

Your body felt weightless as he lifted you effortlessly into his arms.

By the time you woke, you were home.

The scent of that place was gone, replaced by the familiar warmth of your own room. Your body felt drained, sluggish, but safe.

And sitting beside you, as if he had never left, was Phainon.

"You’re reckless," he murmured, breaking the silence. "But I like that about you."

His fingers brushed against your wrist again, where his mark remained.

"You should rest," he said softly. "I’ll be here when you wake up."

And for some reason, despite everything—you believed him.

You barely remembered falling asleep.

After Phainon carried you home from that wretched place, exhaustion claimed you faster than you could think. Your body was too weak, too drained from everything that happened.

But when you woke up—something was wrong.

A hand clamped over your mouth before you could make a sound.

Your eyes shot open, heart slamming against your ribs. The room was dark, but you could make out a figure looming over you—a vampire, his breath heavy with the scent of old blood.

"You shouldn’t have been there, little thing." the man sneered.

The one who owed Phainon saw what you both did. So he thought he could take advantage of the situation.

Panic surged through you. You struggled, but his grip tightened.

"You cost me" he hissed, voice low and venomous. "But don’t worry. You’ll be useful in another way."

He yanked you up from your bed, arms locking around you like iron.

The moment Phainon stepped into your house, he knew something was wrong. The air reeked of an unfamiliar scent—bitter, old blood mixed with the distinct stench of someone who didn’t belong.

Your room was a mess. The blankets were thrown aside, your belongings knocked over, and worst of all—

You were gone.

Phainon’s entire expression darkened.

The scent was fresh. They couldn’t have gone far.

His fingers twitched, sharp nails lengthening slightly as he inhaled deeply, locking onto the trail like a predator.

He found you in an abandoned alley, pressed against the cold stone as the vampire loomed over you, fangs bared.

"Don’t struggle" the man sneered. "I just need a little taste—"

Crack.

The vampire was on the ground before he could register what happened, Phainon’s boot pressing down against his throat.

The man choked, clawing at Phainon’s leg, but the weight didn’t budge.

"You made a mistake" Phainon murmured, voice eerily calm.

His foot pressed down harder. The vampire’s struggles weakened.

"Phainon" you rasped, voice hoarse, barely able to move.

That was the only thing that stopped him.

Phainon’s gaze flicked toward you. His eyes softened—just a fraction.

With one last sharp glare at the trembling man beneath him, Phainon finally stepped back.

The vampire gasped, wheezing as he scrambled away.

Phainon didn’t bother watching him flee.

He was already kneeling beside you, fingers brushing over your face, checking for injuries.

"Tch." His voice was light, but you could hear the underlying tension. "I leave you alone for one moment, and this is what happens?"

"Not my fault."

A chuckle. "I guess not."

And before you could protest, he scooped you up again, cradling you against his chest.

Phainon’s home was nothing like yours.

The moment he brought you inside, he didn’t let you out of his sight. You were still rattled, too exhausted to argue as he led you to a bath, forcing you to sit and soak in the warm water while he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed.

"You don’t have to watch me" you muttered, sinking into the heat.

"I do" he replied smoothly.

You scowled but didn’t push further.

After you finished, you dressed in the spare clothes he handed you, soft and unfamiliar, but comfortable.

But even then, something was off.

Phainon’s expression was unreadable as he stood in front of you, arms still crossed, eyes sharp.

"What?" you asked, frowning.

He exhaled, then leaned in slightly, inhaling.

Your entire body tensed.

"That scent" he murmured.

It took you a second to realize what he meant.

Even after bathing, the vampire’s scent still clung to you.

Phainon didn’t like that.

You barely had time to react before Phainon closed the distance between you.

One hand reached for your wrist, the other sliding up to your jaw, tilting your face toward him.

"Phainon—?"

"You smell like him," he said, almost absentmindedly. "I hate it."

Your breath hitched as he leaned in further, his nose brushing lightly against the side of your neck.

A slow inhale.

"Phainon—!"

His hands slid down, trailing over your shoulders, gripping your arms just enough to keep you still. He wasn’t rough—no, his touch was slow, intentional.

"You don’t want to reek of someone else, do you?" he murmured against your skin. "Let me fix it."

His lips brushed over the curve of your throat, not quite kissing, not quite biting—just enough to make your pulse spike.

"Stop squirming" he chuckled when you shifted, his voice warm, teasing. "You wanted me to drink from you before. Did you change your mind?"

"That’s not—this is different—!"

Phainon hummed, a soft, knowing sound. "Not really."

His arms wrapped around you fully, pulling you flush against him, his warmth seeping into your skin.

This wasn’t about feeding.

This was about marking.

"Better" Phainon murmured, finally leaning back to meet your gaze. His blue eyes gleamed, satisfied.

"You smell like me now."

#yandere x reader #yandere #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x you #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #phainon x reader #phainon honkai star rail #hsr phainon #phainon hsr #phainon

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sarahsangelicdoll · 2 days ago

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Valentines date risk-taking - R.C

ᥫ᭡ Summary: You and Rafe stopped by at a vintage food bar while on a drive as a lil double Valentines date with Topper and Ruthie. But you couldn’t help the way your boyfriend looked a little too good in his black button up and jeans, so you decided to get a little risky and give him an under-the-table blowjob ?

a/n: This is kind of rushed idk how to feel about it, also posted it earlier then i originally queued it for

ᥫ᭡ Content warnings: 18+!, MDNI, public handjob, subbish Rafe, you two get caught by Ruthie but she doesn’t say anything, mentions of Ruthie flirting with Rafe in the past, Topper is stupidly oblivious, kind of rushed, ngl i struggled to explain readers movements 😭

You twirled the stem of a cherry in between your fingers. Absentmindedly staring down at the cherry while the sound of Ruthie, Topper and Rafes voices mingled in with the music of the food bar the four of you were at.

Where was your mind at? definitely not the annoying chick in front of you who kept on giving you judgemental glances. She was the least of your worries. Instead, it was focused on how your boyfriend looked so fucking hot in his black, long sleeve button up and jeans. It was almost unfair how hot he looked ‘n how it got you all hot and bothered.

You finally ate the cherry. Savouring the taste while you shifted in your spot. Glancing at your boyfriend again from the side of your eye. Rafe seemed to be enjoying the conversation with Topper and Ruthie, failing to notice how you were practically eye fucking him.

You sunk your finger into the whipped cream on top your strawberry smoothie and sucked it off your finger. And just as you took a sip an idea that had your lips twitching up into a small, almost un-noticeable smirk came across your mind.

You leaned forward again, resting your arm onto the table while your other hand stayed under the table. Going back to eating your fries while you tuned into the conversation. ‘Pogues’ being the first word you heard that had you rolling your eyes. Of course even on valentine dates they’ll be discussing the oh so godforsaken pogues.

Your hand under the table slowly made way to Rafe’s thigh. your hand stopping just on top of his thigh and thumb rubbing small circles. Your movements didn’t particularly get Rafes attention- figuring you were just being harmlessly touchy. But, when your hand slowly made it’s way uncomfortably higher up he shifted slightly, shooting you a quick, warning side glance. Though his tone and exterior remained unaffected while he spoke with his friends.

You smiled to yourself, watching Rafe’s reaction. You halted your movements to trick Rafe with a couple seconds of peace before continuing your way upwards, your fingers brushing against his clothed cock which had his hips flinching slightly and a soft gasp leave his lips which he disguised with a cough.

Rafe made the mistake of reaching his own hand down to grab your wrist tightly, which just made you cup his rather quickly hardening cock tightly. Rafe’s jaw clenched lto silence any noises that threatened to escape. His hips instinctively trying to move away.

You bit your lip, continuing to listen in on the conversation and eat your food. Rafe let go of your wrist to rub his already clammy hands on his jeans. Attempting to remain nonchalant despite the way your hand firmly rubbed up and down the bulge in his jeans. Good thing he was a good actor.

Your fingers quickly made way to fiddle with the zipper of his jeans. The movement made Rafe’s breath catch in his throat though he failed to make any effort to stop your movements. Instead reaching one of his own hands down to help you move his jeans out of the way just enough to free some tension from pressing down on his hard-on.

It was times like this you were thankful that the four of you chose to sit in the booth without a big window next to it and you choosing to sit on the outside spot of the seat.

With his jeans now half-out of the way you continued your teasing. Your manicured nails gently grazing along the clothed outline of his cock. Starting from the base all the way up to his sensitive tip that was already leaking precum through his boxers. You shifted so that the pads of your fingers were running back down his cock, continuing this pattern up and down his cock for a maddening while. Only choosing to relent when a barely audible whine escaped his lips. His left hand coming up to cover his mouth, biting his lip as his hips forcefully sunk further down into the plushy seat of the red bench.

You ran your hand up to the waistband of his boxers, rubbing the soft skin of his tummy teasingly before hooking your pointer finger under the waistband.

You wasted no time in sticking your hands into his boxers. Soft hand wrapping around the base of his cock and giving it a teasing squeeze before pulling him out of the confines. You relished in the opposite positions that the two of you were in- typically Rafe would be the one with his hands down your pants while he spoke all smug with his friends. The pad of his finger rubbing small, continuous circles onto your clit. The switched positions and submission from Rafe- even if small, had your thighs clenching together in your spot.

Your hand immediately ran up to the head of his cock, rubbing the middle of your palm around the tip, gathering some of his precum as a form of lube before a filthy idea hit you which caused you to freeze your movements for a second. You pulled your hand away, smirking softly to yourself as you noticed the way Rafe’s brows furrowed in frustration.

You hiked your skirt up your thighs to show off your soaked, white panties. Tapping his thigh to get his attention. And it didn’t take even ten seconds for his eyes to go to your clothed cunt when he looked down. His expression switching from neutral to dark and hungry as he watched your spread your thighs.

The position prevented him from getting a clear view of just how wet you are- but he could still easily imagine it, just knowing you so well.

And his eyes seemed to darken more, cheeks flushing and breath seeming to slow to a shaky pattern. His eyes watching your every move as you brought your hand to the waistband of your own panties. You pulled them back just enough so that Rafe could see just a teasing amount of your pussy. Your free hand coming to slide down between your soaked pussy and panties. Coating your hand in your own arousal.

You quickly brought your now soaked-in-arousal hand back out from your panties and rubbed it loosely around Rafe’s cock. Spreading your arousal around on his cock as a type of lube. Rafe’s eyes followed your every move- and god he’d be lying if your actions didn’t make him feel like he was about to spurt loads of cum onto the bottom of the table with just a couple more of your gentle and loose touches. God he felt so pathetic in this moment.

He quickly put his facade back on. Letting out a shaky breath as he turned back towards his two friends and paid attention down to his food.

You smirked, taking his attempt at shifting his attention back as a sign to start stroking his cock faster. Your hand tightening around his cock- especially so when your hand found way back up to the tip of his cock. You flicked your wrist in such a way that had your palm brushing around his precum soaked head. The feeling having Rafes breathing speeding up and stomach flexing.

You kept your pace just slow enough that Topper and Ruthie wouldn’t be able to tell what you were doing when they looked at your arm, or so attempted to.

You shifted your gaze from Rafes face to the two friends infront of you. Topper was still painfully oblivious to what was happening- but then your eyes landed on Ruthie. Her mouth was shut in a thin line her eyes trained on the soft movements and curve of your arm, no doubt knowing full well what the two of you were doing.

Despite being caught a smirk formed on your lips and panties soaked even more due to the thrill of being caught. Your brain recounting the numerous times Ruthie hit on Rafe before and even while dating Topper. You felt something swirl around in your stomach at the thought of Ruthie knowing what you were doing- and only sped up your movements. Ignoring the choked noise that escaped Rafe as you did so.

Your eyes were locked onto Ruthies. Almost as if challenging her to say something. And god if it didn’t tick Ruthie off and make you swell with cocky confidence and pride.

Your smirk widened in victory when you felt Rafes cock twitch in your hand, signalling that he was close. Glancing towards Rafe then giving Ruthie one last, smug look before turning your attention back to Rafe. Watching his body as he finally came.

You felt spurts of cum land on your hand and coat Rafes cock as you slowed your pace just barely, helping Rafe ride out his orgasm. Some of his cum hitting and sticking to the top of the table. His body instinctively flinched and stomach flexed into itself while his breathing caught in his throat.

You helped him continue to ride out his high before finally removing your hand. Quickly grabbing a napkin from the napkin dispenser and bringing it down to clean your hand.

Rafe coughed as he attempted to recover from his orgasm. Pulling his own hands back and down to try and hide himself back into his pants.

The smirk never left your face as you did all of this, instead looking back at Rafe. Watching as he pretended to stretch his neck and quickly gave you a look.

The type of look that told you perfectly that you were fucked so bad when the two of you finally got home- or even alone at that.

⟡ ݁₊ . written by sarahsangelicdoll, 2025 on tumblr! © do not repost on any third party website or repost as yours. Doing so will result in me blocking you and reporting.

༉ taglist: @hvnlygrl @tashiagalinda @littlxpxtal @starsval @rafestoothbrush @subconsciouscollapse @marleymarleymarleymarley @riaras-everthroner

tagging muts: @rafesheaven @personapeters @hauntedfawnn @cameronsprincess @moonlightrafe @winnie1emon / @rafesdearest @cherrygirlfriend

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jungwnies · 3 days ago

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wrong time, right person - carlos sainz (1/4)

��ৎ : pairing : carlos sainz x fem!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : years after a bitter breakup, you and carlos sainz reunite unexpectedly. old wounds resurface, but so does undeniable love. will history repeat itself?

୨ৎ : genre : romance, angst, humor, drama ୨ৎ : tws : mild language, arguing, friendships ending, bantering, suggestive humor, mentions of alcohol consumption. ୨ৎ : wc : 952

part one | part two | part three | part four

Spain was never supposed to feel like home.

You were just an exchange student, a stranger in a country where the language tripped you up, where conversations flowed around you like a current you couldn’t quite swim in. The other students were nice, polite even, but distant. They smiled, but no one really saw you.

Except for him.

Carlos Sainz wasn’t just friendly; he was relentless. He talked to you like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he had made it his personal mission to make you feel at home. The first time he sat next to you at lunch, he didn’t ask the usual "Where are you from?" or "How do you like Spain?" Instead, he stole a fry from your plate and smirked.

“You always eat this little?”

It took you a second to process what he said, your brain scrambling for the right words. When you did, you narrowed your eyes and stole a fry right back.

“Mind your business.”

He laughed, loud, unapologetic. And just like that, best friends.

He made Spain feel like home. He dragged you to local karting tracks, shoved a helmet on your head, and laughed until he was breathless as you struggled to drive at half his speed. You sat on the asphalt after his races, drinking cheap sodas and listening to him talk about his dreams; Formula 1, podiums, championships. You still remember the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his father, the legendary Carlos Sainz Sr., how he wanted to make him proud.

“You think I can do it?” he asked once, voice quieter than usual.

You scoffed, nudging his shoulder. “I think you’re already doing it.”

And you were right.

He climbed the ranks, and you were right there beside him, just like he was there for you. Modeling started small, with local gigs, small shoots. but soon after, your face was showing up in magazines, whispered about in the industry. The first time you booked an international job, Carlos picked you up and spun you around like it was his victory too.

“You’re gonna be famous,” he said, grinning. “I’m gonna see your face on billboards, aren’t I?”

It was fun, easy, and natural, until it wasn’t.

The higher he climbed, the further away he felt. The more you succeeded, the less you seemed to talk. At first, it didn’t feel like a big deal. You still sent texts, still FaceTimed when you could. But slowly, the missed calls turned into silence, and suddenly, you were watching each other’s successes through headlines instead of in person.

Then, he made it to Formula 1.

And you? You were stepping into high-fashion modeling.

The night it all fell apart wasn’t supposed to be anything special. Just another call that went unanswered. Just another missed "good luck" before a race. But this time, Carlos called back, and he called back angry.

“You don’t even care anymore.” His voice was sharp, cutting straight through your exhaustion.

You blinked, phone pressed to your ear, the weight of his words settling deep into your chest. “What?”

“You heard me,” he snapped. “You missed my race. Again.”

Your stomach twisted. “Carlos, I had a show. You knew that.”

“Right, right,” he said bitterly. “Another shoot, another runway, another excuse. Siempre tienes una razón, ¿verdad?” (You always have a reason, right?)

Heat flared in your cheeks. “Excuse me? Don’t you dare act like you’re the only one with a career! I support you, Carlos, but I have my own dreams too.”

He laughed, but it wasn’t the kind that made your heart feel light, it was sharp, hollow, cold. “Support? ¿Eso es lo que llamas esto?” (Is that what you call this?) “Because it feels a lot like you just don’t give a damn anymore.”

Anger burned hot in your chest. “That’s not fair.”

“No?” His voice dropped, quieter, but somehow even more dangerous. “Entonces dime, when was the last time you actually showed up for me? When was the last time you watched me race, not through a screen, but actually there?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Because the answer was obvious. And it wasn’t one you wanted to say out loud.

Carlos exhaled sharply, like he had been hoping, hell, borderline begging, for you to fight him on it. But you couldn’t.

He scoffed. “Eso pensé.” (That’s what I thought.)

Tears burned behind your eyes. “This isn’t fair, Carlos. You’re always traveling, I’m always traveling! What the hell do you expect me to do?”

“I expected you to care.” His voice cracked. Just slightly. But it was enough to break you.

Your breath hitched. “You think I don’t?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, and that hurt worse than anything else.

Because Carlos always knew. He always understood you, always read between the lines, always saw you even when you felt invisible to everyone else. But now? Now he wasn’t even sure.

The silence stretched between you like an open wound.

And then he said it.

“Quizás sea más fácil así.” (Maybe it’s just easier this way.)

It felt like the wind had been knocked out of you. “What?”

His voice was flat, emotionless. Like he had already given up. “Maybe we’ve just been holding on to something that doesn’t exist anymore.”

You felt something inside you shatter.

Carlos had been your best friend. Your person. Your safe place. But now he was just...just nothing.

“I don’t have time for this.” Your voice was quiet, raw, aching. “I have an early flight.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “Por supuesto que sí.” (Of course you do.)

Neither of you apologized.

Neither of you fought for it.

Neither of you said goodbye.

Carlos left for another race. You left for another shoot.

Neither of you looked back.

Until you were given no choice...

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starryylies · 10 hours ago

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Simon's reaction his s/o saying "waiting for it still marriage" but turns out she just wasn't ready to show her body ( tho she likes it but yk second thought about it) , but still wants to get fuk by him

Hii thank you for this ask!!

This ask hit close to home. I feel the same way honestly 😭😭

I’m so sorry on how late the response is. I hope you enjoy though!

You’d told simon pretty early on in the relationship that you wanted to wait until marriage.

Simon was perfectly fine with that because that indirectly meant you saw him getting married to you.

It was a Saturday afternoon and you thought Simon had gone to pick up some groceries while you were laying on your shared bed, on a call with your friend

You were expressing how you feel like a liar since you’re basically hiding the truth on as to why you don’t want to have sex with simon.

Simon being the sneaky fuck he is decided to evesdrop because he was suddenly nervous as to why you don’t want to do it with him if marriage is not the reason.

He started overthinking, feeling as if he isn’t attractive enough for you to actually have sex with him.

But his train of thought was halted when you told your friend that it’s because you don’t know if he will react pleasantly to the way your body looks and also because he’d be the first person to see it.

Simon was dumbfounded, like he genuinely didn’t understand where the fuck you’d even get the idea that he won’t like your stunning and perfect body, He knows it’s stunning and perfect because he’s staring at it almost all the time

but the first person to see it thing really inflated his ego.

Simon wants to burst in your room and confront you but he stops himself to hear what you have to say next

You tell your friend you’re scared he might find your body disgusting and unattractive.

And that’s when simon decides he’s heard enough and decides to barge into your room.

“Hey si, what’re you doing home so quick, did you get the groceries?” You’re startled by his sudden appearance and start worrying if he heard your conversation

“I never went”

“ were you evesdropping on me?” You ask hurriedly

“Yes” he says with a blank face.

You really don’t know how to reply to that but applaud his honesty from inside

“Love, I needa speak to you”

“I don’t get where you’ve gotten this idea from but ya really need to get rid of it” he says curtly

“You don’t think I’ve tried?” You groan out

“Well not hard enough.”

“Simon!”

“Okay sorry, but trust me luv. I’ll be the lucky bastard who’d get to see you and trust me there’s no way in hell I’d ever think of it as any less than the best”

“But si, it’s not like the girls on insta and TikTok”

“I don’t have social media”

“Fine then it’s not like the girls in porn”

“Even you know I don’t watch porn, find it fucking terrible and hilarious. Don’t know how ya wank to it honestly.”

You’re left speechless.

Simon seems to catch onto that and then continues to say,

“And love trust me, we don’t have to do it if you’re not ready yet. Whenever and wherever you are, I’m ready too” he gives you a soft pat on your head, tracing his fingers down to your cheek and giving it a soft pinch.

“So wherever?” You joke, giving him a toothy and mischievous smirk.

“In the fuckin’ backseat if ya want to baby” he laughs out, his deep chuckle reverberating in your spine.

“I love you si, thank you for not being an ass about this”

you give him a soft kiss which takes further by making it more intense, his mouth gobbling yours and sounds of soft moans in between flooding the room.

Oh and your friend on the call is stuck hearing all that as well :)

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cheralith · 1 day ago

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from slytherin!kaiser au, he finds out one year when you and him are students that you've been asked out to the yule ball during the quinquennial triwizard tournament and he tweaks the Absolute Hell Out. i'm taking like ferocious plays in quidditch where he's just absolutely ravaging everyone on the field and hexing anyone who even slightly crosses him. he's frustrated and the most irritating thing is that he doesn't know why. he just knows that he felt surges of anger and vexation after he had overheard in the dining hall that you were asked out by a stupid beauxbatons boy and that you had to absolute nerve to accept his invitation. every time he sees you in his classes, the familiar surge of aggravation boils back up again just at the mere sight of you, even if you both haven’t began your bickering yet.

he’s already pissed off that your best friend, yoichi isagi, was chosen as hogwarts’s contender in the tournament and not him, so for you to be running around collecting attention from people outside hogwarts had upset him even further. he sees you one weekend in hogsmeade with a strange boy that he’s never seen before, so it’s safe to say he’s the beauxbatons boy that your friends were rumoring about earlier. ness’s words are absolutely drowned out as he focuses on the unintelligible conversation you and him have, his fist tightening around his wand. figuring he should take his anger out on something else rather than poor ness for the fifth time this week, he conjures a jelly-leg jinx just before he turns on his heel, snickering when you exclaim out when your companion suddenly crumples to the ground unexpected.

ness obviously has noticed kaiser’s short-temperament that he’s harbored for the past few weeks, he’s sure everyone has. he does not do a very good job of disguising it, considering his azure eyes absolutely burn into the back of your head during dinner.

“are you jealous?” ness suggests, squeaking out when kaiser whips his head at him as soon as his friend finishes his sentence.

“huh?” he scowls, “fuck off. i don’t get jealous. why would i get jealous? that’s dumb. if anything, (l/n) should be the jealous one since i bagged myself that hot gryffindor girl—what was her name? fuck, i forgot already.”

ness blinks at his friend’s babbling as he stuffs a piece of meat in his mouth and chews it with obvious aggravation, his icy stare still lingering onto you and how you laugh at isagi’s joke. he sighs, moving kaiser's wand a little further away from him just in case the slytherin chaser decides to cast another jinx on the poor boy again.

#hmmm the Stupid ever #emotionally constipated men are sooo fun to write lolol #blue lock #bllk #michael kaiser #kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x you #kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock fluff #kaiser fluff #blue lock ; michael kaiser #gn!reader

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wonder-innie · 2 days ago

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this is my first time request but i was wondering if you could make a fluff/smut oneshot on reader and lee know being in the same friend group but reader starts messaging him to get to know him once they realise they have a crush on him. he eventually finds out that they have a crush and keeps prodding to find out clues as to who it could be but then reader doesn’t give in so easily. you can give it whatever kind of ending…

so obvious, so clueless

lee know x fem!reader. fluff

word count: 3.3k

a.n: tysm for the request! i loved writing this.

a.n 2: english is not my first language. check my masterlist

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Lee Know and you had always been part of the same friend group, and making plans one-on-one with any of them was never a problem… except when it came to him. It wasn’t that you didn’t like the idea; it was just that your relationship with him wasn’t as strong as it was with the others.

One night, all your friends got too drunk, except for you and Lee Know. With nothing else to do, the two of you started talking, and to your surprise, the conversation flowed effortlessly. You felt comfortable with him in a way you never had before. At one point, he let out a bright, genuine laugh, his smile practically lighting up the room. You had seen him smile before, but somehow, this time, it felt different, like you were seeing it for the first time. It was the prettiest smile you had ever seen. Before you knew it, you found yourself searching for the best jokes just to make him smile again. You weren’t sure why.

Days passed, yet that moment lingered in your mind, how easy it was to talk to him, how comfortable you felt, and… how handsome he was. You started stalking him on Instagram more often, to the point where you practically had his pictures memorized. Each time you saw his face, your heart raced, and that’s when it hit you. You had a crush on him.

You tried to ignore it, pushing the feelings away whenever they surfaced. What if it ruined your friendship? Worse… what if it affected the whole group? Some nights, when you couldn’t sleep, your mind wandered to the possibilities. If you two started dating and it didn’t work out… would everything fall apart? You didn’t want to be the reason your group broke up.

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A week later, you wanted to talk to him so badly that you couldn’t help but send him a message, ignoring all your second thoughts. You opened his chat, fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure of what to say. After a few minutes of overthinking, you decided to keep it simple.

“Heyy.”

Lee Know replied half an hour later, asking how your day had been. And just like that, the conversation started flowing, just like it had that night. He told you about his cats and even sent you a few pictures of them. They were adorable.

“They took their cuteness after their owner,” you typed without thinking twice.

The moment you hit send, you froze. Your eyes widened as realization hit… you had just sent him a pick up line with him. Unintentionally.

You gasped, heart pounding, suddenly regretting your words. But then, his reply popped up.

A single laughing emoji.

You sighed in relief when you saw that he hadn’t taken it as a serious attempt to flirt. At least, you hoped he hadn’t.

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You and Lee Know had been texting for weeks, growing closer with each conversation. At some point, you even started sending what you both called “good morning selfies” (pictures of each other as soon as you woke up, looking as awful as possible). Well… at least that was the goal. Lee Know looked effortlessly handsome in every single one.

When Felix’s birthday came around, he invited the whole group to his place to celebrate. You felt a wave of nervous excitement, this would be the first time seeing Lee Know face-to-face after all those late-night chats. Wanting to look your best, you put on your prettiest dress and put extra effort into your makeup.

At Felix’s house, you greeted everyone with a hug, one by one. When it was Lee Know’s turn, your nerves spiked, but you didn’t hesitate. He smelled amazing. His cologne was deep, musky, and completely intoxicating. He was wearing a simple shirt and jeans—nothing particularly trendy—but to you, he had never looked better. Why did everything about him have to be so effortlessly perfect?

You didn’t get a chance to talk to him in private until later that night when Felix announced it was “movie time.” Settling onto the couch, you took a seat near the corner. You weren’t expecting Lee Know to sit beside you. It caught you off guard, but you weren’t about to complain.

Felix pressed play, and the movie began…a romcom. You hated romcoms. You always thought they were ridiculously predictable.

A few minutes in, Lee Know leaned close to whisper in your ear.

“This movie sucks.”

You stifled a laugh, turning your head toward him.

“I know, right? But we’re watching it for Felix… so be quiet.” You nudged him lightly before focusing back on the screen.

Of course, Lee Know wasn’t going to just sit there and behave. That wasn’t in his nature.

He suddenly blew softly against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Goosebumps erupted across your skin.

“Don’t do that!” you hissed, glaring at him.

He grinned. “I’m boreeed. Entertain me.”

You rolled your eyes. “What do you want me to do? Pull a bunny out of my magical hat?”

His soft laughter sent a spark through your chest. “Yes, please. I’ve never seen a magician before.”

You let out a chuckle, shaking your head.

“Fine,” you sighed. “I’ll entertain you by roasting this horrible movie, then.”

He smirked. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

After a brief glance at the screen, you blurted out, “Noah Centineo’s acting is so fucking cringe it makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a damn spoon.”

Lee Know covered his mouth to stifle his laugh, his shoulders shaking. He leaned in closer, eyes gleaming with amusement. “God, I love the way your brain works.”

Lee Know leaned in again, his breath warm against your ear. “I swear, if they make the couple kiss in the rain, I’m walking out.”

You snorted, whispering back, “Oh, you just know it’s coming. Probably with some dramatic speech about ‘fate’ too.”

He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Yeah, because nothing says true love like pneumonia.”

As the movie dragged on, you and Lee Know kept whispering back and forth, throwing sarcastic comments at every overused trope. It was like no one else was in the room.

At one point, the main characters had a dramatic breakup scene, and Lee Know sighed, shaking his head. “Three… two… one… and cue the sad montage.”

Right on time, the screen faded into a heartbroken protagonist staring out of a rainy window.

You stifled a laugh. “I hate how predictable this is.”

“Right? It’s like they copy and paste the same script every time.”

As you both chuckled softly, what you didn’t notice were the lingering glances from your friends.

Felix, sipping his drink, nudged Seungmin with his elbow and tilted his head toward you two. “Are they always like this?” he whispered.

Seungmin smirked. “Nope. This is new.”

Han, sprawled on the floor with a pillow under his head, wiggled his eyebrows. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m sensing some serious chemistry over there.”

Felix nodded subtly, watching as Lee Know leaned in to whisper something else in your ear, making you giggle. “Yeah… they’re in their own little world.”

Changbin, who had been watching quietly, grinned. “Should we say something?”

Felix shook his head. “Nah. Let’s see how long it takes them to notice.”

Meanwhile, completely oblivious to your friends’ knowing looks, you and Lee Know were still locked into your conversation.

Lee Know sighed dramatically. “If they don’t end up together in the dumbest way possible, I’ll be disappointed.”

You smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. He’s definitely about to show up at her wedding and confess his love in front of everyone.”

Lee Know groaned. “God, I hope he gets rejected. Just once. Just for the plot twist.”

You snickered. “You’re asking for too much.”

At that moment, a new song started playing over the movie’s emotional climax. Lee Know made a face. “Oh great. Cue the emotional acoustic song.”

The movie’s final scene cut to black eventually, and the lights flicked on.

You stretched your arms and sighed, ready to make another sarcastic remark, when you noticed something strange, your friends were all staring at you and Lee Know.

You blinked. “Uh… what?”

Felix cleared his throat, quickly looking away. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Seungmin coughed into his fist. “Yeah, just… interesting movie, huh?”

Han smirked but said nothing, exchanging a glance with Changbin.

You frowned, confused, but shrugged it off. Meanwhile, Lee Know stretched beside you, completely unbothered.

The night eventually came to an end. As you were about to leave, Seungmin casually stepped beside you, hands tucked into his pockets.

“So… you like Lee Know, huh?”

You nearly choked on air. “W-What?”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Don’t play dumb. It’s obvious.”

Your face heated up instantly. You glanced around, making sure no one else was paying attention before whispering, “Okay, fine. Maybe. A little.”

Seungmin scoffed. “A little? You were in your own little world with him the entire night.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to brush it off. “Whatever. It’s not like it matters. He probably doesn’t—”

“He does.” Seungmin cut you off, looking at you like you were an idiot. “Y/N, the rest of us can see it. And if we can, you seriously think he doesn’t feel the same?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “You think so?”

Seungmin sighed, shaking his head with a small smirk. “I don’t think. I know.”

And with that, he patted your shoulder and walked off, leaving you standing there, replaying his words in your head.

Maybe… just maybe, he was right.

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A few weeks later, your friend group planned a beach day. The plan was to leave early in the morning—around 6 or 7 AM—so they’d be picking you up at your place.

When the car arrived, you climbed in, greeted everyone sleepily, and settled into your seat. You ended up sitting next to Lee Know.

Still groggy from waking up so early, you leaned your head against the window, trying to get comfortable for the long drive. But just as you started to relax, Lee Know nudged your arm.

“So… I heard something interesting the other day.”

You blinked, turning to him. “What?”

He smirked, tilting his head slightly. “Seungmin told me you have a crush on someone.”

Your stomach dropped. That traitor.

You kept your expression neutral, playing it cool. “Oh? And you believe everything Seungmin says?”

Lee Know narrowed his eyes at you, clearly not buying it. “So it’s not true?”

You hesitated for half a second too long.

His smirk widened. “It is true.”

You groaned, turning your head away. “I’m not talking about this with you.”

But Lee Know was relentless. “Come on, just tell me who it is.”

You shook your head. “Nope. It’s a secret.”

He huffed, pretending to be offended. “Why? You don’t trust me?”

You turned back to him, raising an eyebrow. “Exactly.”

Lee Know gasped dramatically. “Unbelievable. I thought we were close.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “We are, but that doesn’t mean I have to tell you everything.”

For the rest of the car ride, Lee Know kept trying to get you to spill.

“Is it someone from our friend group?”

“Do I know them?”

“Oh my god, is it Felix?”

You ignored most of his questions, dodging them with vague answers or simply changing the subject. No matter how persistent he was, you refused to give in.

And by the time you finally arrived at the beach, Lee Know still had no clue who your crush was.

But that didn’t mean he was going to stop trying to find out.

After arriving at the beach, your group got to work setting everything up; planting umbrellas in the sand, spreading out towels, and placing a cooler filled with beers in the middle of your little setup. The sun was already blazing, and the sound of waves crashing mixed with the laughter of your friends as they ran toward the water.

You had worn your bikini under your clothes, so without much thought, you grabbed the hem of your oversized T-shirt and pulled it over your head, quickly slipping out of your shorts.

What you didn’t expect was Lee Know’s reaction.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him freeze. His entire body stiffened, and he quickly turned his head to the side, his ears turning red. He was flustered.

You bit your lip, suppressing a smile. Was he really that shy just from seeing you in a bikini? Seeing that reaction made your heart beat faster, looked so cute.

Trying to act casual, you grabbed your bottle of sunscreen and began applying it to your arms and legs. But when it came to your back, you hesitated. Your friends were already running toward the ocean, leaving only one person behind.

Lee Know.

You turned to him, holding up the sunscreen bottle. “Hey… can you help me with my back?”

His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he just stared at you.

“M-Me?”

You nodded. “Unless you want me to ask a total stranger?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes before snatching the bottle from your hand. “Fine, turn around.”

You turned your back to him, feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin. A few seconds later, his hands pressed against your back, spreading the cool sunscreen across your shoulders.

You swallowed. His touch was… soft.

His hands moved slowly, spreading the lotion over your shoulder blades, down to the middle of your back. You felt the way his fingers hesitated for a split second before gliding lower, rubbing the sunscreen into your skin with a gentleness you hadn’t expected.

You liked it.

Your heartbeat picked up as his fingers pressed a little firmer, the warmth of his hands contrasting against the chill of the lotion. For a moment, it felt almost… intimate.

Lee Know cleared his throat behind you. “There. Done.”

You turned to face him, noticing the faint pink dusting his cheeks. He quickly handed you back the bottle, avoiding your gaze.

You took it with a small smile. “Thanks.”

He nodded, still refusing to meet your eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Just don’t get sunburned.”

You chuckled softly before turning toward the ocean, but you could still feel the lingering warmth of his hands on your skin.

The day went by normally, filled with laughter, splashes in the ocean, and the warmth of the sun against your skin. You and your friends had lunch right there on the beach, passing around sandwiches and drinks as the waves crashed nearby.

And throughout the day, Lee Know kept trying to get information out of you.

Every once in a while, he’d lean in, his voice teasing yet curious. “So… are you sure you don’t want to tell me?”

You’d simply shake your head, smiling innocently. “Nope.”

This game continued all afternoon. Every time he thought he was getting close, you dodged the question. Your friends, however, had started catching on.

Felix, Seungmin, and Han exchanged amused glances, whispering among themselves every time Lee Know tried (and failed) to get you to confess. He was completely oblivious to what was right in front of him.

Then, as the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, Felix suddenly clapped his hands together.

“We should go get more beer.”

The others instantly caught on.

“Yeah, good idea,” Han said, already standing up.

Changbin stretched, “Let’s go before the store closes.”

One by one, they all got up, casually dusting the sand off their clothes.

You blinked. “…Wait, all of you are going?”

Felix grinned, “Yeah, why not?” Then, with a very obvious look between you and Lee Know, he added, “We’ll be back soon. Enjoy the sunset.”

Before you could protest, they were already walking away, leaving you alone with Lee Know.

A heavy silence settled between you two.

For the first time all day, he didn’t say anything.

The sound of the waves filled the quiet space, and you focused on the horizon, watching the sun sink lower. But then…

Lee Know let out a long sigh.

“Just tell me who it is. The suspense is killing me.”

You swallowed, keeping your eyes on the ocean. “I can’t tell you, Lee Know.”

“Why not?” He turned to fully face you, his brows furrowed. “Don’t you trust me? I thought we were friends.”

Friends.

That word hit you like a knife straight to the chest.

A mix of emotions… your feelings for him, the pressure he was putting on you, the fear of ruining your friendship, of breaking your friend group… it all exploded at once.

Before you could stop them, tears welled up in your eyes and started spilling down your cheeks.

You quickly stood up, turning away from him as you wiped your face with the back of your hand. You needed space.

Lee Know immediately noticed your shift in mood, and his voice softened.

“Hey… I’m sorry.” His tone was full of regret. “I didn’t mean to push you so much. I just—” He sighed again, more frustrated with himself than anything. “I need to know.”

Slowly, you turned back around, and when he saw your tear-streaked face, his eyes widened in alarm.

“You’re an idiot!” You snapped, voice shaking. “Do you really not see it? It’s so obvious…!”

Lee Know blinked, still clueless. “I must be an idiot then, because apparently, I’m the only one in our group who hasn’t figured it out.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head in disbelief before finally, finally saying the words you had been holding in for weeks.

“It’s you, idiot! You’re the one I’ve liked for almost two months now. Happy? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

A heavy silence filled the space between you two.

Lee Know stood in front of you, motionless, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. Instead, you stared down at the sand, your heart pounding so hard it echoed in your ears.

Then, gently, he reached out and lifted your chin with his fingers.

Your breath hitched as your eyes finally met his. His gaze was intense yet unbelievably soft, filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher.

With the same hand, he delicately wiped away your tears, his thumb brushing against your cheek before resting his palm there. His touch was warm, grounding.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he murmured, “How am I supposed to hold back when you look beautiful even when you’re crying?”

Before you could even process his words, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours.

The kiss took you completely by surprise. Your body froze for a few seconds, too shocked to react. But then—instinct took over.

You melted into him, wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his soft hair. His arms circled your waist, pulling you closer as the world around you seemed to blur.

The kiss was deep, filled with all the emotions that had been bottled up for weeks. The warmth of his lips, the way he tilted his head to deepen the kiss—it all felt so right.

The sound of the waves and the golden hues of the sunset painted the perfect scene around you.

And then…

A sudden burst of cheers erupted behind you.

You both pulled apart, startled, only to find your entire friend group standing there, grinning like idiots.

Felix clapped dramatically. “Finally!”

Han smirked. “Took you long enough.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes. “I told you he liked you too.”

Changbin grinned, raising an imaginary glass. “A toast to the new couple! I better get invited to your wedding.”

You groaned, hiding your face in Lee Know’s chest, while he simply smirked, unfazed.

Without missing a beat, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you even closer, whispering just for you to hear.

“Guess we really were obvious, huh?”

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rafesbuzzcutseason · 2 days ago

Text

chasing city lights

chapter 11 - flatline

synopsis: you move to new york to start fresh, hoping to find comfort in the city’s atmosphere. that’s when you meet sarah cameron, where she takes you to a concert and you catch sight of the lead band member, rafe cameron. it only takes a moment for you to realize you’re captivated by him. as sarah helps you navigate your new life in the city, you start to get pulled deeper into rafe's world—the music, the fame, the chaos. the more you get to know him, the more you realise that rafe is not just the rock star he seems to be. he’s wrestling with his own demons, and the last thing he needs is someone like you getting close.

masterlist

cw: language

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

after your day with rafe yesterday, the girls had so many questions and you told them everything, down to the song he wrote for you. what you didn't expect however, was that the song was going to be released in a few days time.

"i genuinely can't believe this," sarah started, "i mean him opening up to you? the commincation? the song? where is rafe and what have you done with him." she giggled.

"no y/n i don't think you understand the extent of this. like we've all been friends with rafe for a good 6 years, and i have never seen a girl have this affect on him before."

"guys stop you're making me think i'm some kind of miracle." you laughed with them.

"that's because you are a miracle." cleo joined in.

"so do you think you'll become official soon...?" sarah questioned.

"i don't know, the fans already think we are." you stated.

"the fans are fucking crazy. you'll get used to that i promise. when me and pope started dating everyone went bonkers over it." cleo reassured you.

"i guess so, it's okay i don't mind it, it's just getting used to seeing my face whenever i open twitter." you said. "whatever, we've got a flight to catch." you all finished your last minute packing and made your way into the car that was waiting for you outside the hotel.

part of you was sad to be leaving the state you had made so many memories in, but you knew heading back to new york all together was just the beginning for this new chapter for you and rafe.

once you made it to the airport, you found the rest of the boys who had left earlier as they all entered 'dad mode' and were getting stressed, john b to blame for that.

"finally you're here!" john b began as he saw you walk through the door.

"yeah thought we were gonna have to leave without you." pope said sarcastically.

"enough. we're here now aren't we?" cleo said rhetorically.

"yes ma'am" jj joined in, everyone was in agreement that cleo was the boss of the group.

you made your way to say hi to topper, who was slowly starting to become his usual self again, you assumed him and rafe had a conversation to try and clear the air.

but you eventually made it to rafe, who looked like his was patiently waiting his turn to get your attention, "hey you" he said.

"hey" you replied with a slight blush, "i didn't know you were actually going to release the song." you rushed out.

a look of concern took over him, "do you mind?" he asked worriedly.

"no! no i'm happy" you started, "but the fans are a little crazy."

"yeah i know they are and i should've warned you about that, but the best ones mean no harm and all you can try and do is ignore them." he replied.

"hard to ignore them when they're commenting on everything i post." you quietly said.

"i can say something if it really bothers you, okay?" he softly reached out to give your hand a squeeze.

"okay" you smiled at him, always putting you at ease.

"ok love birds pack it in," jj hollered "i don't think this plane is going to wait for us."

"whatever dude" rafe grinned, "ready?" he turned to you.

"ready."

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

a/n: sorry guys i made this chapter a lot more smau, just as i had the idea to do the thread (which took me ages LAWD) and also wanted to get the song mentioned ! 5 points to anyone who knows the actual song and band🙈

taglist: @hoefordrewstarkey @marleymarleymarleymarley @bee-43 @cherryhoneybabe @skye-44 @drewrry @drewrry @yesterdaysproblemm @pogueprincesa @dylsdaily @rafeysworldim19 @valyrianflower @kaiparkerwifes @judesgfirl @4urvalidation @chillgal135 @drewstarkeyslover @yesshewrites1@amterasuu@babykhloutofthisworld @blushmimi @moonywhisp3rs @rafeysworldim19 @marleymarleymarleymarley@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account@vcnillafairy @bambii1i @sammyrenae68 @popou61

#outer banks #obxsmau #boyfriend rafe #rafe cameron x reader #obx #rafe cameron #drew starkey #rafe obx #chasing city lights #smau

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marksbear2 · 2 days ago

Note

Hiiii, bear!!! If you're still taking requests, could a request a homelander x male!reader fic where homelander is sort of a little desperate for readers approval because hw hasn't gotten a lot of positive attention in his life? And if it's still open, could I be '🪼 anon', please?

Homelander x male reader

Hiii and yes you may my friend. This has to be like a world record for me to be writing and posting a request in the same day.

Beneath the Cape

The first time you met Homelander, you hadn’t expected much.

Not because he wasn’t impressive—he was. Towering, broad-shouldered, the very image of America’s strongest hero. But you knew his reputation, the whispers beneath the carefully crafted PR. Dangerous. Unstable. Capable of wiping out a city if the mood struck him.

And yet, when you spoke to him, you saw something else. Something beneath the mask.

It had been a brief encounter. A charity event, one of those nauseatingly polished affairs where Vought paraded their golden boy around like a prize horse. You’d been there as part of your company’s sponsorship, nothing special. Just another name on a list.

But then he walked by, and you—unlike everyone else—didn’t grovel. Didn’t flinch. You just… smiled. A simple thing, a polite acknowledgment, nothing more.

And for a second, just a second, Homelander froze.

Then his expression shifted, something unreadable flickering across his face. He gave you a nod, an almost hesitant one, before moving on.

You thought nothing of it.

He, however, couldn’t stop thinking about it. Homelander started noticing you more after that.

It wasn’t immediate, but it was persistent. Every time he passed through a room, his gaze would linger on you a little longer. At first, it was just curiosity. Why hadn’t you looked at him the way everyone else did? With fear. With worship.

Instead, you were… normal. You treated him like a person, not a god.

And for the first time in his life, that felt more intoxicating than any amount of adoration. So he sought you out. First, by coincidence. Then, with more intention. He made excuses to be near you, dropping by your office under the pretense of business, stopping to chat when he saw you at events. He wanted—needed—to know why you were different.

And every time you spoke to him, it was like a breath of fresh air. No false praise. No trembling admiration. Just simple, casual conversation. You didn’t hesitate to crack a joke, to roll your eyes at corporate nonsense, to treat him like—well, like a regular guy.

He couldn’t get enough of it.

Of you.

At first, you chalked up his frequent appearances to coincidence. But then it became too frequent. Too deliberate.

Homelander always seemed to be around. Finding excuses to talk. Standing just a little too close. And then there were the looks. The way he watched you—not with the cold, calculated gaze he gave most people, but something softer. Almost needy.

It was subtle at first, the way his eyes followed you, the way his expression shifted when you laughed at something he said. But then there were the moments when he lingered after conversations, as if reluctant to leave.

And one night, after another one of those tedious events, you finally called him out on it.

“Alright,” you said, arms crossed as you leaned against the balcony railing. “What’s your deal?”

Homelander blinked, tilting his head. “My deal?”

“You keep showing up around me. Hanging around like a lost puppy.” You raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you have better things to do?”

There it was again—that flicker of something behind his eyes.

“Would you rather I leave?” His voice was casual, but you caught the undercurrent beneath it. The uncertainty. The smallest, quietest thread of insecurity, woven into the carefully controlled mask.

You exhaled. “I didn’t say that.”

His expression shifted, something relieved, something satisfied. “Good,” he murmured, stepping closer. Close enough that you could smell the faint scent of his cologne, something crisp and clean beneath the fabric of his suit.

And then he smiled, not the perfect, PR-ready grin he always wore for the cameras, but something real.

Something just for you.

From then on, it was impossible to ignore.

Homelander wanted your attention. Craved it. And he wasn’t subtle about it.

He’d show up at your office unannounced, making himself comfortable in your chair like he belonged there. He’d hover during conversations, subtly guiding them back to himself, clearly wanting to hear what you thought of him.

And, God help you, he was charming when he wanted to be. Infuriatingly so.

“You like me, don’t you?” he mused one evening, seated across from you in your apartment—because, yes, he had started showing up there too, somehow always knowing when you were home.

You scoffed. “What kind of question is that?”

“A simple one.” He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “You’re nice to me.”

You frowned. “And?”

“No one’s ever nice to me.”

Something in his voice made you pause.

It was an admission, plain and simple, but there was something raw beneath it. Something vulnerable.

He covered it quickly, pasting on a smirk. “Well, not without wanting something in return.”

You sighed. “Maybe I’m just nice.”

He studied you for a long moment. Then, quietly, “Maybe that’s why I like you.”

Your stomach twisted.

Not out of fear. Not out of discomfort. But something deeper.

Something dangerous.

Because the way he looked at you—the way he wanted you—wasn’t just some passing fascination.

It was need.

And you weren’t sure you could ignore it much longer.

---

It escalated from there.

Not in the way you expected. He didn’t push. Didn’t demand.

He just… stayed.

In your life. In your space. Always there, always watching, always waiting for whatever little scraps of attention you’d give him. And God, when you did?

It was like he came alive.

A simple touch—your hand brushing his arm—made his breath hitch. A kind word had him lingering on it for days.

You realized, then, just how little warmth he’d ever been given.

And how much he wanted it from you.

One night, after a long conversation over drinks, he sighed, tilting his head toward you. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

“How much I need this.” His voice was softer than usual. “How much I need you.”

Your chest tightened.

And when he leaned in, when his lips hovered just a breath away from yours, you realized something.

You needed him too.

THE END

#x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #x male y/n #x reader #amab reader #x gn reader #x top male reader #homelander x male reader #homelander x reader #homelander #the boys x male reader #the boys x reader #the boys #the bear club

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luvfae · 2 days ago

Text

CLEAN, PT 2

summary: after rehab, you reunite with thanos, sharing love, passion, and a fresh start together.

parings: thanos/choi su-bong x f!reader

warnings: mention of addiction, swearing, smut, oral (both receiving), fingering, handjob, unprotected sex (don’t be an idiot), p in v.

part 1

Three months ago, Thanos had dragged you—kicking, screaming, and cursing his name—into the same rehab facility where he had gotten clean.

Today, you were walking out.

With no family to pick you up (Thanos didn’t even know if you had any who cared), he was the one waiting.

Three excruciating months apart. He spent every day wondering if you hated him, if you were okay. But no calls from the facility meant you weren’t doing too bad. Meanwhile, you had spent those months drowning in withdrawal, fighting everyone who tried to help, refusing therapy—until eventually, you gave in. And for the first time in years, you felt normal. You started to remember the girl you used to be before the drugs took her away.

Then came the shame. The time lost. You should’ve graduated from art school by now, but instead, addiction had dictated your life. You regretted cutting off your family, pushing away friends until you had none left. You regretted how you had treated Thanos when all he ever did was try to save you.

And now, standing at the door, your hands trembled. Would anyone even be waiting for you?

Then—

“Y/N.”

You blinked.

Thanos.

You didn’t think. You just ran.

Throwing yourself at him, you hugged him so tightly it knocked the wind out of him. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, voice shaking. You pulled back slightly to look at him. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me,” he murmured, brushing away your tears.

“I didn’t deserve your help,” you admitted, pulling away completely. He caught your hands, grounding you. “I was so awful to you. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know what it’s like to be an addict,” he replied. “Everyone deserves help.”

Sniffing, you wiped your eyes as he led you to his car.

It was strange. You had known Thanos for nine months, lived with him, had sex with him, and yet… you didn’t really know him. Your brain had been so fried on drugs you barely retained any information.

And Thanos was the same. He had taken care of you, paid for your rehab, seen you at your lowest, and yet he didn’t know who you were.

Maybe it was time to change that.

The car ride was quiet at first. You were still getting used to the feeling of sobriety, of being aware. But as the city passed by through the windows, you glanced at Thanos.

“I used to paint,” you blurted out.

He looked at you. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Before everything… I loved painting. I was good at it, too. I was supposed to graduate art school a few years ago. Art was my dream.”

Silence settled for a moment before you continued. “I had a good life. A good family. My parents weren’t perfect, but they cared. I had a future. And then I got caught up with the wrong people.” You swallowed. “I let it ruin me.”

Thanos tightened his grip on the wheel. “It’s not too late.”

You let out a small, breathy laugh. “You sound like my therapist.”

“Well, your therapist is right,” he said, glancing at you. “You’re clean now. You can start again.”

You didn’t reply, just watched the city blur past.

“What about you?” you asked. “How did you get into rapping?”

Thanos smirked slightly. “It was either rap or go to jail.”

Your brows furrowed, but you stayed quiet, waiting for him to explain.

“I was a street kid,” he said. “Grew up bouncing between different family members. No real home. I got into some bad shit—gangs, drugs, fights. Ended up locked up a few times as a teenager. But music…” He sighed, tapping his fingers against the wheel. “Music was my way out. I started writing lyrics in juvie. Got out, kept at it, got lucky. Somehow, I made it big.”

You stared at him, realizing this was the first real conversation you’d ever had. “Do you love it?”

Thanos was quiet for a beat. “Yeah. I do.”

You smiled softly. “I’d like to hear your songs sometime. Really hear them. Not just in the background while I’m high out of my mind.”

His lips quirked up. “I’d like that too.”

And for the first time in a long time, you both felt like you were finally getting to know each other.

Thanos had loved you before—loved you in your worst moments, through the chaos, the anger, the addiction. But this version of you? The version that was bright-eyed, passionate, full of life again? He loved this version even more.

As he stole glances at you in the passenger seat, he really saw you for the first time. Your cheeks had filled out, your skin looked healthier, your eyes were wide and alert instead of hazy and half-lidded. And that smile—soft, genuine, real.

You were beautiful.

He pulled into the driveway, and you blinked, tilting your head.

“This isn’t the place I remember,” you said, glancing up at the massive mansion in front of you.

Thanos shrugged. “Bought a new house while you were gone.” He put the car in park and looked over at you. “Wanted to leave the bad memories behind and make good ones here instead.”

You let out a small laugh. “House? More like a mansion.”

Thanos smirked, pushing open his door. “Being rich and famous has its perks.”

You stepped out after him, following him inside. The space was opulent—high ceilings, sleek furniture, stunning artwork lining the walls. You turned in slow circles, taking it all in.

“I’ll donate them to charity,” Thanos said.

You glanced at him, confused. “What?”

“The paintings,” he clarified. “I’d rather have your art on my walls.”

Your cheeks burned, and you ducked your head, kicking at the floor. “I haven’t picked up a paintbrush in years,” you admitted. “Not sure I even can anymore.”

Thanos smiled. “I bet you can.”

Before you could argue, he took your hand and led you up the grand staircase, past a few closed doors, before stopping in front of one. He pushed it open, revealing a bedroom with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the entire city.

“This is your room,” he said simply.

You stepped inside, breath catching. It was beautiful. Warm-toned, cozy, welcoming. He walked over to the closet and pulled open the doors, revealing racks of neatly hung designer clothes, tags still on them.

“I even got you a new wardrobe,” he added.

You stared at the clothes, shaking your head. “Thanos, this is too much,” you whispered. “After everything I put you through… You shouldn’t have to take care of me anymore.”

He turned to you, gaze steady. “I want to.”

His words sat heavy between you. No hesitation, no doubt.

For the first time in a long time, you felt happy.

Real, genuine happiness. The kind that made your stomach flip and your heart race.

Or maybe it wasn’t just happiness. Maybe it was something deeper, something terrifying in its intensity.

You stared at him, eyes brimming with tears. “Thank you.” Your voice was barely a whisper, afraid that if you spoke any louder, the moment would shatter.

Thanos met your gaze, unwavering. “You’re welcome.”

You stepped forward hesitantly. “I don’t remember a lot from when I was using,” you admitted. “But I remember you.”

His brows lifted slightly. “What do you remember?”

You swallowed hard. “I remember you force-feeding me when I refused to eat. Flushing my stash down the toilet. I remember screaming in your face, kicking holes in your walls.” A tear slipped down your cheek, but you kept going. “I remember sleeping with strangers, with your friends—right after you told me you loved me.” Your voice cracked. “I was horrible to you. But that wasn’t the real me. I swear.”

Thanos nodded, watching you carefully. “I know,” he said simply. “But there were good times too, right? You remember those?”

You did.

You remembered the way he’d tuck you in at night, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. The way he’d run a bath for you after you got sick all over yourself, holding you steady as he cleaned you up. The way he kissed you like he was willing to set the world on fire for you. The way he touched you, loved you, even when you were too far gone to truly feel it.

“I remember how you made me feel,” you whispered, stepping closer.

His lips parted, his breath hitching as your fingers traced up his chest.

“I remember your hands,” you murmured, voice turning sultry. “Your mouth. Your tongue. Your fingers.” Your hand slid lower, brushing over the hardening bulge in his jeans. “Your cock inside me.”

Thanos inhaled sharply as you pushed your palms against his chest.

You had spent weeks thinking about this—about fucking him sober. About feeling everything for the first time.

“You made me feel so good,” you purred. “So fucking good, Thanos.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “My real name is Su-bong,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

You smirked. “Well—Su-bong…” Your eyes darkened with intent. “Let me make it up to you. Let me show you how good I can be.”

That was all it took.

His lips crashed against yours, hungry and demanding, his hands gripping your waist as he backed you toward the bed. You gasped as the backs of your knees hit the mattress, and he wasted no time pushing you onto your back, peeling his shirt off in one swift motion and tossing it to the floor.

You sat up slightly, dragging your fingertips down his toned abdomen, your mouth practically watering at the sight of him.

He was already hard for you.

And this time, you were completely, devastatingly sober.

You dragged your nails down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch. His skin was warm, firm—real. For the first time, you were feeling him, not just through a hazy drug-fueled blur, but with a clarity that sent a shiver down your spine.

Thanos—Su-bong—looked down at you with dark, hooded eyes, his lips parted slightly as he took you in. “You’re teasing me,” he murmured, voice thick with desire.

You smirked, trailing your fingers lower, letting them ghost over the waistband of his jeans. “Maybe,” you mused. “I owe you, don’t I?”

His hands slid up your sides, rough palms skimming the soft fabric of the shirt he had given you months ago—the same one you had walked out of rehab in. Slowly, he peeled it up and over your head, letting it drop to the floor.

His gaze roamed over you, drinking in every inch of exposed skin, every little mark and scar. You weren’t the frail, hollow version of yourself anymore. You were whole.

“You’re beautiful,” he muttered, his fingers trailing over your ribs, then up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples. You let out a soft gasp, arching into his touch.

His mouth found your throat, lips pressing firm, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your neck. He sucked lightly at your pulse, dragging his teeth over the sensitive skin, making you shudder.

“Su-bong,” you breathed, threading your fingers through his hair.

He groaned at the way you said his name, his hands sliding down your body, squeezing at your waist, your hips, like he was memorizing the shape of you.

You tugged at the waistband of his jeans, undoing the button and pulling the zipper down, your fingers slipping inside to brush against the hard length beneath his boxers. He let out a sharp exhale, hips jerking forward slightly at your touch.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his forehead dropping against yours. “You really want this?”

You wrapped your fingers around him, squeezing just enough to make him curse under his breath. “More than anything,” you whispered.

His lips crashed against yours again, hungrier this time, his hands gripping your thighs as he pushed you back onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs. You gasped as he kissed his way down your body, his mouth hot and insistent against your skin.

When he reached the waistband of your jeans, he hooked his fingers into them, glancing up at you for permission.

You lifted your hips in response, breath hitching as he dragged them down, taking your panties with them, exposing you completely to him.

His eyes darkened, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. “Fuck, baby,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust.

Then, without hesitation, he leaned down and devoured you.

His tongue flicked against your clit, slow and teasing, sending a jolt of pleasure through your core. Your fingers twisted into his hair, hips jerking instinctively, but he pinned you down with a firm grip on your thighs.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned against you, his breath hot, his voice thick with hunger. “Missed this pussy so much.”

A whimper slipped from your lips as he flattened his tongue and licked a long, slow stripe up your slit before sucking your clit into his mouth. Your back arched, thighs trembling, but just as the pleasure built, just as you felt yourself spiraling, you pushed at his shoulders.

Thanos pulled back, his mouth glistening, brows furrowing in confusion. “What?”

You took a shaky breath, trying to clear the haze of pleasure from your mind. “This is about you, not me,” you murmured, pushing yourself up on your elbows. “I’m paying you back.”

A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. “If it’s about me, then I should get to do what I want,” he countered, voice low, dangerous. “And what I want to do is fucking taste you.”

“Jesus Christ,” you breathed, heat surging through your body.

Before you could protest further, he dove back in, his tongue circling your clit while two fingers slid inside you, curling just right. A strangled moan tore from your throat, your hips bucking as he worked you open, relentless and precise.

It didn’t take long—he knew exactly how to unravel you, exactly how to have you gripping his hair and gasping his name. Your orgasm hit fast and hard, your body shaking as he held you down, licking you through every wave until you were panting, overstimulated.

Only then did he pull away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, looking so fucking smug.

“Fuck,” you muttered, still catching your breath. “I forgot how good you were at that. Feels even better sober.”

His smirk widened. “Unforgettable, baby.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. Pushing him onto his back, you straddled his hips, hands sliding up his chest, fingers teasing over his nipples before raking down his abs.

“My turn,” you whispered.

You kissed down his body, taking your time, nipping at his collarbones, sucking marks into his skin just to watch him tense beneath you. When you reached the waistband of his jeans, you tugged them down, freeing his cock, your mouth practically watering at the sight of him—thick, hard, already leaking.

You wrapped your fingers around him, stroking slow, teasing. His breath hitched, his head tipping back against the pillows.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers curling into the sheets. “You gonna take care of me, baby?”

You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his tip, then dragged your tongue along his length, watching the way his stomach tensed beneath you.

“Of course,” you murmured, voice dripping with promise.

And then you took him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as he let out a deep, guttural moan, his hands flying to your hair.

Your tongue worked him slowly, dragging along every inch of his length, teasing just to hear him groan. You hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper, letting him hit the back of your throat, moaning around him just to feel the way he twitched in your mouth.

“Shit, baby,” Thanos growled, his fingers tightening in your hair. “Missed your mouth—so perfect, so fucking good for me.”

The praise only made you more eager. You bobbed your head, stroking the rest of him with your hand, slick and messy, making sure to keep your eyes on him. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his jaw clenched, his muscles tense as he fought to keep control.

But you didn’t want him to be in control.

You pulled off him with a lewd pop, kissing up his abs as you moved to straddle his waist. His cock was hard, flushed, throbbing against your soaked folds as you rubbed against him, teasing both of you.

“Hey,” he hissed, gripping your hips. “Quit teasing.”

You smirked, leaning down to kiss him, slow and deep, your fingers threading into his hair. “You always take care of me,” you whispered against his lips. “Let me take care of you now.”

Without breaking eye contact, you reached down, guiding him to your entrance before sinking down onto him in one slow, delicious slide. Both of you gasped at the sensation, your walls stretching around him, molding to him perfectly like you were made for this.

“Jesus,” Thanos groaned, his head tipping back, fingers digging into your hips as he tried not to lose himself completely.

“You feel so good,” you breathed, placing your hands on his chest, rolling your hips slowly, savoring the way he filled you so perfectly. “So fucking good, Su-bong.”

His eyes snapped open at the sound of his real name on your lips, dark and wild with lust. He sat up suddenly, wrapping an arm around your waist, his mouth latching onto your neck, sucking bruises into your skin as you continued moving, grinding against him, taking him deeper.

You moaned, clinging to his shoulders, kissing him desperately, your tongues tangling, the pleasure building between you like a fire. “Thank you,” you whispered against his lips, rocking faster, harder. “Thank you for saving me. For never giving up on me.”

A low growl rumbled in his chest as he flipped you onto your back, keeping you pinned beneath him, his hips snapping against yours, hitting deeper, harder.

“You’re mine,” he muttered between kisses, his voice rough, possessive. “Always fucking mine.”

“Yours,” you gasped, nails raking down his back, legs wrapping around him to pull him even closer. “Only yours.”

His pace turned desperate, his thrusts brutal yet somehow still so full of love, his forehead pressing against yours, his hand slipping between you to rub your clit, determined to drag you over the edge with him.

And when you came—hard, clenching around him, gasping his name like a prayer—he followed right after, burying himself deep, groaning into your mouth as he filled you, his entire body shuddering against yours.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, tangled together in the aftermath, your breathing heavy, your hearts racing in sync.

Then Thanos kissed you again, softer this time, lingering. “I still love you,” he murmured against your lips. “I always have.”

You smiled, brushing your fingers through his damp hair. “I think I love you too.”

And when he pulled you into his arms, holding you close like he never wanted to let go, you knew—you meant it.

You lay there for a while, tangled up in each other, your skin slick with sweat, his breath warm against your neck. The weight of him felt comforting, grounding, like you never wanted him to move.

But eventually, you stirred, pressing a soft kiss to his temple before slipping out of his arms.

“Where are you going?” Thanos mumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion.

You giggled, running a hand through his messy hair. “Relax, I’m just grabbing a towel.”

You padded to the bathroom, your legs still wobbly, but you didn’t care. You cleaned yourself up before wetting a towel, you returned to the bed, settling beside him as you began to clean him up, running the cloth over his stomach, down between his legs, gentle and careful.

Thanos watched you, his expression soft, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your thigh. “You don’t have to do that,” he murmured.

“I want to,” you replied, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Let me take care of you for once.”

He huffed out a small laugh, letting you do as you pleased, though his hands never stopped touching you—gliding over your arm, your waist, like he needed the reassurance that you were still here.

When you were done, you tossed the towel aside, crawling back into his embrace, peppering kisses along his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth.

Thanos smirked. “You’re in a good mood.”

“I think you fucked the happiness into me,” you teased, making him chuckle before he suddenly rolled you onto your back, hovering over you, nuzzling into your neck.

You giggled, your hands slipping into his hair, tugging him up so you could kiss him properly. Slow, lazy, sweet.

After a while, you pulled back just enough to look at him, brushing his damp hair from his face. “Thank you for the room,” you said softly. “But… I think I’d rather share a bed with you, if that’s okay?”

He pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, his thumb stroking your cheek. “That’s more than okay,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You smiled, burying your face in his chest, and for the first time in years, you felt home.

You still had a long road ahead—staying clean, rebuilding bridges with your family, reenrolling in art school. But those were worries for another day.

For now, you stayed wrapped in Thanos’ arms, making up for lost time, showering him with the love you should have given him all along.

#choi subong smut #choi su bong #choi su bong x reader #thanos smut #thanos x reader #thanos #player 230 smut #player 230 x reader #player 230 #squid game

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fkinkindagauche · 2 days ago

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Somebody Has to Arrange the Matches

This is a prompt fill for @steddiebingo Round One, prompt "Dustin Henderson". Full fic on AO3.

Rating: Explicit | WC: 5,398 | CW: None | Tags: Dustin Henderson parent trap, gay Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington speed runs his sexuality crisis, first kiss, mutual pining, friends to lovers, frottage

Summary: Dustin is adamant that Eddie Munson deserves to find love, after all he's been through. Once Dustin figures out some things about Eddie, he gets to work making it happen.

divider by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Eddie was being cagey again.

It had become Dustin's personal mission now that Eddie was out of the hospital to get the man a girlfriend. As far as Dustin could tell from his probing questions to the Corroded Coffin guys, Eddie had never had a girlfriend, which was honestly shocking to Dustin. Sure, Eddie could be pretty over the top, but everyone liked him. And it wasn't like he was ugly. So he must just be too shy or something. Dustin wanted to help.

Dustin currently had him cornered in Gareth's garage, away from the rest of the group. They'd just finished a D&D session at Gareth's house, with a Corroded Coffin practice scheduled after. Dustin, Lucas, Mike, and Will were waiting for Steve to pick them up before the practice started. Dustin was doing his utmost to get Eddie to go out with one of Robin's band geek friends, but Eddie was resisting all of his attempts.

"Henderson, no." Eddie sounded exactly like Steve did after Dustin had asked for a ride about ten times, trying to get a no to magically change to a yes. "I'm not going to ask Veronica out."

"Why not?" Dustin asked, voice raised. "She's a huge nerd, she flirts with you, like, non-stop, and she's hot."

Eddie sighed. "I'm just not into her."

Dustin groaned, tugging his hands through his hair in frustration. "Are you into anyone? Every time I bring someone up, you shoot the option down."

"Well, I don't like your options, bud. They're not good options."

"That's objectively false!" Dustin yelled. "Most guys would kill for some of the options I've presented!" Why did Eddie have to be like this?

"How can it be objectively false?" Eddie shot back. "It's literally my opinion. The definition of subjective."

Dustin glared at him. He hated when Eddie tried to outsmart him. He hated how often it worked. Steve drove up just as Dustin was opening his mouth for a rebuttal.

"Thank the fucking Lord," Eddie muttered. "Please take this young whippersnapper off of my hands before I kill him," Eddie yelled to Steve when he got out of his car.

"Oh, great," Steve said. "Can't wait to spend the next 15 minutes with a feisty Henderson in my car."

God, they were both such turds sometimes. Dustin sighed loudly and stomped over to Steve's car. "This isn't over, Munson!" he called over his shoulder. Eddie flipped him off in response.

He grabbed the passenger seat before Mike, Lucas, or Will even made it to the car, much to their chagrin. Steve chatted with Eddie for a few moments, Eddie leaning into his space as per usual, slinging an arm over Steve's shoulder.

Dustin leaned over and honked the horn.

"Really, Dustin?" Steve yelled, hands on his hips.

"Some of us have places to be!" Dustin yelled back.

"Where do you have to be?" Lucas asked from the backseat.

Dustin shrugged. "It's the principle of the thing."

Steve spent a few more moments talking to Eddie, probably just to piss Dustin off, then came back to the car.

Dustin gave Steve 30 seconds to adjust, watching the time tick by on his watch. He'd been told off one too many times for immediately starting an interrogation, so this was his compromise with the world. As soon as his watch hit the 30 second mark, he started in.

"So why doesn't Eddie ever date anyone?" Dustin asked, talking over whatever conversation Mike and Will had been having in the back.

Steve glanced at Dustin with a confused expression on his face. "What?"

"From the intel I've gathered, Eddie's never had a girlfriend," Dustin said. "He turns down all of my suggestions for potential dates. But if anyone deserves a girlfriend, it's him. He's, like, a hero. I want to help him find his Suzie."

"Excuse me, what am I? Chopped liver?" Steve interjected. "Why aren't you trying to find me a girlfriend?"

Dustin rolled his eyes. "You've had a million girlfriends, Steve. Give some of the other poor dudes a chance."

"Yeah, Steve. You're kind of hogging the eligible young women of Hawkins," Mike piped up from the back seat.

"I haven't had a girlfriend since Nancy," Steve protested.

"But you do still get around," Dustin insisted.

"Whatever, man." Steve shook his head. "Why don't you let Eddie do his own thing? Maybe he's just picky."

Dustin crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, not responding. Steve was wrong. Eddie deserved his own Suzie. And Dustin wasn't going to give up on helping him find her.

"So I saw this girl the other day at the arcade," Dustin started. He and Eddie were at the trailer, painting some miniatures. It was his mom's night working late, and Dustin had started spending it with either Eddie or Steve on alternating weeks.

Eddie groaned. "Not again, Henderson. Can't we go, like, one day without this shit?"

"But Eddie! I think you'd really like her. She had a mohawk. Dyed pink. And her nose was pierced."

Eddie dropped his head into his hands, smearing some red paint on his cheek. He stayed that way for a few moments, quieter for much longer than usual. Dustin worried for a moment that he might have broken him. When Eddie finally looked up, his face was serious in a way it almost never was. He reached out for Dustin's hand.

"Dustin. I'm about to tell you something, and you cannot freak out about it. And you can't tell anyone else about it, either. Am I clear?" Usually, Dustin would have thought a joke was coming after an intro like that from Eddie. But he seemed completely earnest this time, so Dustin actually considered what he'd asked.

"What about Suzie?" Dustin asked. "Can I tell Suzie?"

Eddie sighed. "Yeah, you can tell Suzie."

"Alright," Dustin said. "I agree to your terms. No freak out, no telling anyone other than Suzie."

Eddie nodded. "Okay." He took a deep breath and looked away. "I'm gay, Dustin."

It took Dustin a second for his brain to parse what he'd just heard. Eddie. Heavy metal band member, dungeon master Eddie.

"I'm sorry, you're what?" Dustin squeaked. He must have misheard.

"I'm gay," Eddie repeated. "Queer, fruity, a homo, a friend of Dorothy, a fairy. I like men. That's why none of your options have sounded remotely appealing to me. That's why I've never had a girlfriend."

Dustin sat back in his chair, stunned. A lot of things were making sense now.

"Oooookay," Dustin said, nodding. So now he had to find Eddie a boyfriend. More difficult, but he liked a challenge. "So what's your type? We can find you a boyfriend."

Eddie barked out a laugh, throwing his head back. He looked relieved. "Are you serious? That's your only question, what's my type?"

"Of course that's not my only question, who do you think I am?" Dustin was a little offended. "That's just my most pressing question."

"I think this is the best response I've gotten so far to coming out," Eddie said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair.

Dustin felt pretty good about that. "Well? Are you gonna answer?"

Eddie chuckled. "I should've known this wouldn't make you give up your weird crusade." He pulled a few strands of hair in front of his mouth, chewing on the ends while he thought. "My type? I'm not totally sure, honestly, haven't had much of a chance to find out, living in Hawkins. I guess probably my height or maybe shorter, but not much taller. On the masculine side of things, almost the jock physique. Hairy. Brunette."

Dustin nodded after each characteristic, mentally taking note. "Those are all physical things. What about personality?"

Eddie had to think a little harder about that one, looking into the distance. "Um. Kinda goofy, I guess? Not too macho. Sense of humor." Eddie trailed off and looked at Dustin sharply. "Henderson, if you go around asking the men of Hawkins if they're queer so you can try to find a date for me, you're gonna get beat to shit."

Dustin held up his hands. "You really think I'm that stupid? Give me some credit here, Eddie."

"You have a track record of failing to read the room, man," Eddie pointed out.

That absolutely wasn't true. Dustin was very tactful. He could be quite subtle when he wanted to be. Eddie just never got to see that side of him.

"I'll be careful," Dustin insisted. "I'm not gonna ask anyone if they're gay."

"Alright," Eddie said, but he didn't look convinced. Dustin would show him.

The idea hit Dustin the next week, when he was spending his mom's late work night with Steve. They were out by the pool, and Steve's hairy chest was on full display, with all of its muscles. Dustin had Suzie, and she didn't want him to be muscular, but sometimes when he saw Steve's chest he couldn't deny the twinge of jealously.

Hairy. Muscular jock physique. Something was tickling at the back of Dustin's mind. Brunette. What was that? About as tall as Eddie.

Oh shit. Dustin dropped his Dr. Pepper as Steve yelled "COWABUNGA" and did a cannonball into the water. Kinda goofy.

It was Steve. Eddie had basically been describing Steve. Did Eddie even know? Had he been secretly pining after Steve this whole time? Or was it still subconscious?

Holy shit. But Steve liked girls. How was Dustin gonna make this work? Did he need to find a Steve doppelganger somewhere who was gay?

Steve popped out of the water, shaking his hair. He looked up at Dustin and the Dr. Pepper spilled all over the patio. "Everything alright there?" Steve asked. "You look like you saw a ghost."

Dustin nodded. "I- I'm good. Everything's fine!"

Steve shrugged and dove back under the water.

Dustin did some research over the next few days. If he was going to find a gay Steve doppelganger for Eddie, he needed to understand the culture - where he could find other queer people, the types of phrases they used to identify each other without being too blatant, that kind of stuff.

He tried finding books at the library, but came up empty-handed and probably on some sort of list the librarian kept of degenerates. So he had to resort to asking Eddie where he got all his information.

"Why do you wanna know?" Eddie asked with a suspicious glare.

"I just wanna understand you, man!" Dustin insisted, putting on his most innocent expression. "You're my friend, I wanna know what's going on with you."

Eddie reluctantly handed Dustin some zines he'd picked up in Indianapolis. "None of the raunchy stuff," Eddie said. "I'm not getting arrested for dealing gay pornography to minors."

Dustin made a disgusted face. "You could have just… not told me you even had raunchy stuff."

Eddie shrugged. "Where's the fun in that?"

Dustin spent hours that night poring over the zines, learning the lingo. He discovered an incredibly interesting fact in one of the zines - the existence of bisexuality. You could like both men and women. You didn't have to be either gay or straight.

This fact blew Dustin's mind, and the seeds of a different plan took root. What if Steve was bisexual, and he didn't even know it? That would be the easiest, most logical solution to the Eddie problem. Steve was Eddie's type; so what if Eddie was also Steve's type?

He talked about it with Suzie the following evening. She'd been shocked to learn that Eddie was gay. Mormons weren't exactly accepting of homosexuality. But she'd always played a little fast and loose with certain aspects of Mormonism, so Dustin was able to bring her around to the idea eventually.

"I don't know, Dusty Buns," she said as they were discussing his idea about Steve. "I don't think you can just make someone be bisexual."

"I'm not gonna make him be bisexual," Dustin insisted. "I'm just gonna try to show him that he already is."

"But what if he isn't?" she shot back.

"Then I'll go back to the doppelganger plan," he said with a sigh. "But I have to try. This is the simplest solution. Occam's razor."

"Dusty Buns, you know you're not using that correctly right now," Suzie scolded.

Dustin sighed. She never let him get away with anything.

Dustin paid a lot more attention to Steve and Eddie's interactions over the next few weeks. Now that he knew Eddie was gay, he couldn't believe he'd missed the signs pointing to his crush on Steve.

Eddie gravitated to Steve like a moth to a flame. It was like he had some sort of Steve-related sixth sense, his head immediately turning toward Steve whenever the man walked into a room.

He was a tactile guy with everyone, but whenever Steve was around, it was always Steve that Eddie was touching. Every time Dustin looked at the two of them, Eddie had a hand somewhere on Steve - slung around his shoulders, resting on one of his arms, brushing against one of his legs to get his attention.

Steve didn't seem to mind at all. He leaned into the physical contact, touching Eddie back almost as often as he was touched. They smiled at each other all the time. They got each other drinks and snacks and just in general acted like a goddamn couple. How had Dustin missed this?

He was gonna need to accelerate his timeline. These idiots needed to get together ASAP.

Read the rest of the fic on AO3.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #stranger things #my fics #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fanfic #steddiebingo #steddiebingoroundone

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xylatox · 43 minutes ago

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In Between the Lines! I had this saved for a good week and it came back up on my feed today so I'm glad I can read it uninterrupted. I love the idea of a fic being used to spread awareness on selective mutism.

Beomgyu blinked for a moment, momentarily distracted by the scene. He hadn’t noticed her before, but there was something about her that drew his attention. Her focus seemed unshakable, and the way her pen moved across the page made him pause. — I think thus moment is very sweet, a prelude to their first interaction and we get to see Beomgyu's initial thoughts :)

I loved their first interaction and I love seeing that reader has these moments coming to the end where she seems that she wants to respond but is unable to; and from the prior gestures she has we see the anxiety that is present.

The contrast between the library and home; Home was a different kind of quiet. It wasn’t the peaceful stillness of the library but a silence filled with tension, unspoken words, and carefully maintained boundaries. — this line was so beautiful but painful.

I appreciate that we are able to see how deep the reader's anxiety is when it comes to speaking and it breaks my heart. I love that her friend Jiwon is there and understands her, not pushing her to say more, but when reader does open up she does listen and be supportive as well :( Loving that they met at her job and Gyu was finally able to get her name, the moment was adorable

I feel so sad that her step-mom doesn't take the time to understand reader instead of berating her about her condition, especially since that treatment will make it worse:( I love that even when Gyu meets her again, he's so sweet and patient about it and the conversation falls into place seamlessly despite that. It's so sweet that he searches ways to help reader too wtf :( I also love his relationship with Taehyun and the advice he gives like; Everything, bro. You don’t even put this much effort into group projects. If this isn’t a crush, I’ll eat my textbooks — this line was absolutely hilarious.

It's the end of part 1! This was so cute and I'm so happy I got the time to share my thoughts on it!!

✧*̥˚ In Between the Lines | Choi Beomgyu *̥˚✧

✧ beomgyu x selective mutism fem!reader ✧ summary: y/n, a university student with selective mutism, finding solace in solitude. when beomgyu, a curious music student, starts noticing her, their paths cross, and he learns to navigate her silence. ✧ warnings: panic attacks, social anxiety, mute!reader, swearing, angst, verbal abuse, eventual smut, virgin!reader, slow burn?, trauma, fluff, a bit of self-hatred (let me know if i missed anything! i’ll add more tags for each part as needed) ✧ part one, word count 14k

✧ an: helloo, honestly i wanted to use this fic to spread awareness for selective mutism as a lot of people are unaware of it, i hope this can help people be more understanding and patient with others. ty, i hope you enjoy the read!

MASTERLIST next »

The library was quiet, the hum of the air conditioning blending with the faint rustle of pages and the soft clack of keyboards. Y/N sat at a small table in a tucked-away corner, surrounded by open books and notes. It was her safe haven, away from the chaos of campus life. Shelves upon shelves of books surrounded her like a fortress, muffling the outside world.

Large bay windows let sunlight pour in, casting a warm glow over the silent corner of the library. Her notebook lay open on the table, half-filled with neat, tiny sketches of animals—an owl perched on a branch, a cat curled up asleep, a bunny mid-hop.

She didn’t notice him at first, too focused on the notes sprawled across her desk. With a big test looming next week, her attention was locked on the video playing softly through her headphones. Her pen hovered above the page, but instead of jotting down key points, she found herself sketching a tiny mouse in the notebook’s margin.

Beomgyu, on the other hand, was anything but quiet as he weaved through the aisles, earbuds in, barely paying attention to where he was going. He wasn’t reckless, just distracted, his focus split between the music blaring in his ears and his search for a textbook he desperately needed for his next assignment. He wasn’t much of a library person—too quiet, too stuffy—but today, he was desperate.

Beomgyu had been wandering the library for what felt like hours, his eyes scanning the shelves with no success. The textbook he needed was nowhere to be found. He checked the library’s online system twice already, double-checking the section he was once in before, but it still wasn’t showing up. In reality, though, it had only been half an hour.

A sense of helplessness started to creep in. He wasn’t used to asking for help. He liked figuring things out on his own, but right now, he was at a dead end.

Frustrated, he let out a sigh and dragged his hand through his hair, turning to look at the rows of books around him. That’s when he saw her—sitting at a table in a quiet corner, her head bent low as she scribbled something in her notebook.

But then he realized something: the music blaring in his ears was so loud, that he could barely hear his own thoughts, let alone anything happening around him. He fumbled with the earbuds, awkwardly tugging them out of his ears with one hand, hoping to avoid drawing attention to himself. His music, still playing loudly, thumped through the air, and he quickly scrambled to turn it off.

He winced, realizing just how distracted he had been by the music. He probably looked ridiculous.

After a brief moment of awkwardness, he gathered himself. “Excuse me,” Beomgyu said, taking a few strides over to the girl.

Y/N didn’t look up at first. Her headphones were on, but the volume wasn’t high enough to block out the world entirely. She’d grown used to the assumption that no one would ask her for help. It was rare.

Beomgyu cleared his throat, more self-conscious now. “Excuse me,” he tried again, his voice quieter this time, trying to avoid sounding out of place. He took a few more steps toward her, his voice still hesitant, though more intentional this time. “I’m looking for a Music Theory book. Do you know where it is? Or, um, any books on music?”

Y/N’s pen paused mid-stroke. She didn’t look up immediately, as though she were processing his words. Her fingers hovered over the notebook for a moment, before gently putting the pen down.

Beomgyu shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a strange tension knotting in his stomach. He wasn’t used to feeling this nervous, especially not when asking for help. Normally, he was the type to speak his mind, loud and clear, without a second thought. But something about the silent library and her focused, unbothered presence made him second-guess himself.

Why was he suddenly so awkward? He'd approached strangers for help plenty of times before. Was it the stillness of the library? Or maybe it was the way she was taking her time, processing everything so calmly like she was in no rush to answer him. It felt different than usual, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it.

When she finally did glance up at him, a faint flush spread across her cheeks. Recognition flickered in her mind—he was in her lecture, always a bit too loud, usually with his friends, his voice always cutting through the room. The sudden focus on her made her feel small, as though she were being pulled out of her quiet world. She hesitated, her eyes flickering between him and her notebook, trying to figure out how to navigate this. Her mind raced, knowing she couldn’t react the way others might, and for a brief moment, the silence between them felt deafening.

“Uh, I took a photo of the section where it’s supposed to be, but... I swear the section must’ve been moved,” Beomgyu said, his voice tinged with discomfort as the silence stretched on. He pulled his phone from his pocket and awkwardly shoved it in front of her face.

Y/N’s gaze dropped to his phone screen, her eyes scanning the library catalog photo. She quickly noticed the error—it was mislabeled, and she immediately knew where the books had been relocated. The music books had once been in the section he showed her, but now they’d been moved to the history section; the two categories had swapped. She knew this simply from the countless hours she’d spent in the library.

Her eyes darted briefly back to his face before she stood up, her movements slow but deliberate. She gave him a small, wordless nod, avoiding his gaze as she stepped past him. Without a word, she made her way toward the section where the history books used to be.

Beomgyu fell into step beside her, his hands buried in his pockets as he tried to think of something to say. The silence was starting to feel a little too heavy, so he took a deep breath, deciding to break it.

“So, uh, do you come here often?” he asked, hoping to make the situation a little less awkward. “I mean, it’s pretty quiet. A good place to focus, right?”

Y/N’s eyes flickered briefly toward him before she quickly looked away, focusing ahead as she walked. She wasn’t used to being the center of attention, and now, with Beomgyu walking beside her, she felt the weight of every step. Her fingers twitched, lightly fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve as she tried to calm the nervous energy building up.

Beomgyu noticed her fidgeting and quickly tried to back off, his voice quieter this time. “Sorry, I guess I’m just rambling,” he said, chuckling lightly. He scratched the back of his neck, feeling a bit embarrassed for not picking up on the cues that maybe she wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

Y/N’s eyes darted toward him, just for a moment, before she looked away quickly. She was still unsure of how to respond but decided it was easier to just let the silence sit. It was what she was most comfortable with.

Beomgyu glanced at her, studying her subtle movements. She wasn’t giving much away, but something about her quiet presence made him want to keep trying. He had a knack for talking to people—usually. So why did it feel so different now?

“I’m Beomgyu, by the way,” he added after a beat, his voice soft enough to match the library’s quiet atmosphere. “Not that, you know, you were dying to know or anything. Just thought I’d introduce myself.”

Y/N’s grip on her sleeve tightened slightly, her pace steady but her mind racing. She didn’t dare meet his eyes again, unsure if acknowledging him would invite more conversation or make things more awkward. She gave him a slight nod, not even sure if he had caught it or not.

They turned a corner, the rows of books stretching ahead of them like endless possibilities. Beomgyu’s gaze flicked between her and the shelves as he tried to gauge whether she was annoyed, shy, or just indifferent. He wasn’t used to feeling this uncertain.

As they approached the section where the music books had been relocated, Y/N slowed her steps. She hesitated, briefly scanning the spines of the books before pointing to a specific shelf. Her small gesture was precise, her hand lingering just long enough to guide him.

Beomgyu followed her gaze, then backtracked to where her finger had pointed. “Oh, here it is! You’re a lifesaver,” he said with genuine relief, pulling the textbook off the shelf.

Y/N gave a faint nod, her eyes fixed on the floor as she took a small step back, giving him space.

“Do you, uh, study here often?” Beomgyu asked, trying to keep the conversation alive. “I mean, you seem to know this place like the back of your hand.”

Y/N’s face flushed deeper as she glanced up at him, their eyes meeting for the briefest moment. She gave a small nod before quickly looking away, her gaze flitting to the books on the shelf—anywhere but his face.

Beomgyu tilted his head slightly, curiosity sparking in his expression. He couldn’t help but be intrigued. She hadn’t spoken a single word to him. In all his life, he’d never had an interaction quite like this. Sure, he’d met shy people before, but even then, he’d always managed to get at least a word or two out of them.

“Oh,” he said, his voice softening as understanding dawned. “That’s pretty cool. No wonder you knew exactly where to go.”

He let out a light chuckle, his usual confidence tempered by the realization that this wasn’t the time for his typical charm. “Really, though, thanks. I’d probably be pacing these aisles for the next hour if you hadn’t stepped in.”

Y/N met his gaze for just a second before offering a small, shy smile, her fingers lightly brushing the hem of her sleeve.

Beomgyu shifted the book in his hands, unsure if he should say more or let the silence linger. For someone who thrived on conversations and easy banter, this felt foreign—yet oddly intriguing. There was something about her that pulled him in, even without words.

He glanced at her again, watching as she took a half step back, her eyes flickering to the shelves as if searching for an exit. Not wanting to push too far, he cleared his throat, offering a tentative smile.

“So… Do you work here or something? Or are you just, like, the unofficial library expert?” he asked, trying to keep the mood light.

Y/N hesitated, her lips parting slightly as if she wanted to respond but didn’t. Instead, she just shook her head, her small smile returning for a brief moment before she looked down at her shoes.

Beomgyu nodded, not sure what else to say but also reluctant to let her slip away just yet. “Well, you definitely saved me. I owe you one. Maybe… I can return the favor someday?”

Her head tilted slightly at his words, and though she didn’t respond, her expression softened, as if the offer had caught her off guard in a good way.

Before he could overthink it, Beomgyu laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Or, you know, I’ll just try not to get lost next time.” He gestured to the book. “Anyway, thanks again. Seriously.”

Y/N gave a small nod and took a step back toward her corner of the library, her movements quiet but deliberate. Beomgyu watched her retreat, his mind already racing with curiosity about the girl who had barely said anything but somehow left an impression.

As he turned to leave, his footsteps slowing, he found himself glancing over his shoulder, wondering if she’d look back at him.

And she did. The moment his back was turned, Y/N raised her eyes, her gaze following him as he walked away. There was a flicker of something in her expression—curiosity, maybe, or a faint trace of amusement—but when Beomgyu didn’t turn again, she let out a hushed breath and returned to her seat.

The library was Y/N’s sanctuary—a place where she could exist quietly, without the weight of expectations pressing down on her. But as the sun dipped below the horizon and the warm glow of the street lights flickered on, she found herself heading back home, her silent retreat fading behind her.

Home was a different kind of quiet. It wasn’t the peaceful stillness of the library but a silence filled with tension, unspoken words, and carefully maintained boundaries.

Y/N slipped through the front door, her movements silent and deliberate as she kicked off her shoes. Her dad was in the living room, the soft murmur of the TV playing a news channel filling the space.

“Hey, sweetie,” he greeted, glancing up briefly. He was one of the few people she could speak to comfortably, but even then, her words were rare. She offered a small smile in response, her eyes darting toward the stairs.

Her stepmother’s voice echoed sharply from the kitchen, tinged with irritation. “You’re late again. Dinner’s been on the table for an hour.” She emerged into the living room, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

Y/N froze, unsure how to respond. She gave a small, dismissive nod toward her bag, a quiet way of saying she’d been at school, but her gaze never lifted. The floor seemed safer to focus on.

“Figures,” Her stepmother muttered, the frustration in her tone clear. “You always lose track of time, don’t you?”

Y/N didn’t respond. She simply slid past her stepmother, the familiar weight of tension hanging in the air. She ascended the stairs to her room, the soft click of the door closing behind her bringing a wave of relief. The noise and expectations of the house faded away.

Her room, a quiet refuge, was exactly as she’d left it—shelves lined with books and small trinkets, her desk cluttered with notebooks and unfinished sketches. She sank into her chair, feeling the familiar warmth of the space wrap around her like a soft blanket. With a contented sigh, she grabbed the remote and flicked on her favorite drama, the low hum of the small TV filling the silence. As she began to sketch, the pencil moved instinctively across the paper, her fingers dancing to the rhythm of the drawing. She found herself humming softly, her lips curving into a smile as she let the characters on the screen distract her for a while. In this room, it was easy to forget the outside world. Here, she could giggle, whisper to herself, and just be—no pressure, no expectations.

A few days later, Beomgyu sat in the lecture hall, his focus flickering between the professor and the scribbled notes in front of him. His mind kept wandering back to Y/N, the girl who had quietly helped him in the library. The memory of her sketching in her notebook, so immersed in her own world, stuck with him. It felt odd that he hadn’t really noticed her before, considering how often they must have been in the same place. He couldn’t figure out why, but now, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

He had seen her once or twice in the halls before, but it was always fleeting—a brief glimpse as she walked past, her presence never lingering in his mind. It was only now, as he glanced around the lecture hall, that he realized she was sitting in the same class. Her name had never crossed his mind, and he certainly hadn’t noticed her before, but there she was, standing up and packing her bag as the lecture ended.

A strange realization hit him, and for a moment, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. She was so calm, moving with that quiet grace he’d seen before. His heart raced a little. This was his chance—he had to talk to her. He had to know her name.

Without thinking, he stood up quickly, trying to weave his way through the sea of students heading for the door. His eyes stayed fixed on her, determined not to lose sight of her this time. When he finally opened his mouth, he called out to her, his voice cutting through the chatter in the room. “Hey!”

Just as he was about to push through the crowd to catch up, he felt a hand grab his arm. It was Taehyun, his friend’s grip firm as he pulled Beomgyu’s attention away.

“Beomgyu, wait up!” Taehyun’s voice was a mix of impatience and excitement. “I need to ask you something before you head out.”

Beomgyu’s gaze flickered from Y/N, who was making her way toward the door, to Taehyun. His heart sank as he realized he’d lost his chance to talk to her.

"Ah, come on, I’ll only be a minute," Taehyun continued, unaware of Beomgyu’s internal struggle.

Beomgyu hesitated, torn, but Taehyun was already steering him away. He shot one last glance at the door where Y/N had just disappeared, frustration bubbling up inside him. He hadn’t even gotten close enough to say anything.

Across the room, Y/N had heard Beomgyu call out to her, his voice cutting through the chatter like a sudden unexpected burst of noise. Her eyes flickered back toward him for a brief moment, catching the earnestness in his expression, before quickly looking away. The tension in her chest flared—was he expecting her to speak? To respond? She wasn’t sure she could handle it.

Her anxiety gnawed at her, whispering doubts in her ear. She couldn’t disappoint him. The skin on her palms felt clammy, and her fingers twitched slightly at her sides. The tightness in her chest made it harder to breathe, her heart thudding faster than the noise of the students around her. With a quiet breath, she pushed herself forward, her steps quickening as she made her way to the exit, each one carrying her farther from the conversation she couldn’t bring herself to have.

Y/N stepped out of the lecture hall, the weight of her thoughts pressing on her chest. The bustling noise of students moving between classes surrounded her, but it all felt distant—muted like she was underwater. She clutched the strap of her bag tightly, her knuckles pale, as she made her way across campus, her head lowered to avoid the curious glances of strangers.

Her mind replayed the moment Beomgyu’s voice cut through the crowd, his tone almost hopeful. She’d seen the way he looked at her like he was trying to bridge some unspoken gap. And she’d ignored him.

Her heart clenched, the guilt nagging at her. Why didn’t I just stop? The question circled in her mind, but her anxiety offered no answers—just a familiar wave of self-doubt. She had felt so sure in that moment that she couldn’t face him, but now the decision left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Without a clear destination, Y/N wandered toward the quieter part of campus. A shaded bench under a tree caught her attention, and she sank onto it, letting out a shaky sigh. Her hands fidgeted with the strap of her bag. The crisp air felt sharp against her flushed cheeks, but it did little to calm the storm inside her. Her guilt, no longer just a whisper, grew louder with each passing second, her thoughts pulling her in circles. She let out a shaky breath, her fingers tightening around the worn fabric of the strap of her bag.

Why couldn’t she stop? Why couldn’t she just turn around, meet his eyes, and… do something? Anything? She’d seen the look on Beomgyu’s face—earnest, almost hopeful—and yet she’d walked away. Her chest tightened, a familiar ache spreading through her ribs as her mind replayed the moment over and over, each time adding more weight to the sinking feeling in her stomach.

Her eyes fell to her lap, where her fingers now tugged at the hem of her sleeve. She wanted to cry, but no tears came—just the dull, suffocating heaviness of disappointment in herself. She pressed her lips into a thin line, her gaze drifting to the ground as students passed by, their chatter blending into a dull hum around her.

It wasn’t like Beomgyu had done anything wrong. He wasn’t pushy or rude—just curious. Kind, even. She groaned softly, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. A part of her wanted to go back, to find him and explain—though she wasn’t sure how to do that without using words. But another part of her—the louder part—convinced her it was better this way. She couldn’t let him down if she kept her distance.

The minutes ticked by, and Y/N stayed rooted to the bench, the world around her moving while she remained still.

A soft vibration in her pocket broke through Y/N’s spiraling thoughts. She pulled out her phone, blinking at the bright screen.

Jiwon: Hey, where are you? Are we still on for our study session??

Y/N’s heart sank, the weight of guilt pressing down on her chest. She’d completely forgotten. Her mind had been too preoccupied, overwhelmed by the wave of emotions she couldn’t seem to steady. The memory of Beomgyu’s voice calling out to her, the fleeting glance they’d shared, and the way she’d rushed out lingered, replaying in her mind like a broken record.

She stared at Jiwon’s message for a long moment, her fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Y/N: I’m so sorry! I forgot. I’ll be there soon!

Her thumb hovered over the send button, hesitation gripping her. A small part of her wanted to come up with an excuse, to avoid facing anyone right now. But Jiwon wasn’t just anyone. She was patient, understanding, and someone Y/N didn’t have to constantly explain herself to. If there was anyone she could lean on without judgment, it was Jiwon.

She sighed softly, pressing send. The message was delivered with a quiet whoosh, and Y/N slipped her phone back into her pocket. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment as she leaned back against the bench. The faint hum of campus life carried on around her. Students chatted as they walked by, their voices blending into a low murmur. It felt like the world was moving forward while she was stuck in place, weighed down by her thoughts.

“I need to get out of my head,” she whispered to herself, her voice so soft it was almost drowned out by the breeze.

Forcing herself to move, she stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder, her steps slow at first as she made her way across campus. The walk to the library gave her time to collect herself, though the heavy guilt still clung to her like a shadow. She replayed the moment in the lecture hall, questioning her reaction, wondering if Beomgyu had been disappointed or confused by her silence.

As she approached the library, the familiar sight of the towering building brought a small wave of comfort. Pushing the door open, Y/N stepped inside, her eyes scanning the rows of tables until she spotted Jiwon. Her friend was already settled near a window, her laptop open and a cup of coffee beside her. Jiwon glanced up, her face lighting up in a small smile when she saw Y/N.

“There you are,” Jiwon said warmly as Y/N approached. “I was starting to think you ditched me.”

Y/N shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she slipped into the chair across from Jiwon. She pulled out her notebook, the familiar action grounding her.

Sorry, she wrote quickly on the corner of the page before sliding it toward Jiwon.

Jiwon’s smile softened as she read the note. “Don’t worry about it. You okay?”

Y/N hesitated, her pen hovering over the paper. She wanted to say yes, to brush it off and pretend everything was fine. But Jiwon’s expectant gaze made her pause.

I had a rough day, she finally wrote, keeping the explanation short.

Jiwon nodded in understanding. “Well, if you need to talk—or write—I’m here.”

Y/N felt a warmth spread in her chest, the kind of comfort that came from being around someone who understood her without needing a thousand words.

She wrote back with a small smile.

Thanks

Jiwon reached for her coffee, taking a sip before changing the subject. “Okay, so, where should we start? I’ve got a million things to catch up on, and I could definitely use your help.”

As Jiwon launched into a conversation about their upcoming assignments, Y/N found herself relaxing, the tension from earlier slowly easing. For now, she let herself focus on the steady rhythm of studying and the quiet companionship of her friend.

After an hour of focused studying, Jiwon glanced up from her laptop, noticing that Y/N had grown quiet again, her usual energy a little more subdued. The silence between them had stretched longer than usual, and despite her attempts to distract herself with assignments, Jiwon couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

“You know,” Jiwon said, breaking the stillness, “I think it’s time for a snack. What do you say? The vending machine’s calling our names.”

Y/N looked up, eyes wide, as if caught off guard by the suggestion. She hadn’t said much since they’d settled in, and though Jiwon respected her space, she couldn’t help but worry.

Y/N hesitated, her pen still tapping gently against the notebook. Jiwon noticed the small details—the way her friend’s gaze flickered downward, avoiding her eyes.

“Come on,” Jiwon coaxed with a soft smile. “A little break will do us both good.”

Y/N gave a small nod, and together, they made their way to the vending machines, the sound of their footsteps the only noise in the quiet space.

As they reached the vending machines, Jiwon casually scanned the selection, but her eyes kept darting back to Y/N, sensing the weight of her silence.

“So,” Jiwon began, her voice light but tinged with concern, “what’s going on? You’ve been awfully quiet today, and I can tell something’s on your mind.”

Y/N glanced around the hall, her gaze flickering nervously before meeting Jiwon’s. “I…” she whispered softly, her words barely audible. “I’ll tell you when we get back to the table.” Her cheeks flushed as she grabbed a packet of cookies from the vending machine.

Y/N quickly returned to the table, her heart thudding in her chest. She couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about what she was about to say, even though Jiwon would never judge her. Her fingers tightened around the packet of cookies as she set it down, her gaze briefly meeting Jiwon’s expectant eyes.

Jiwon settled back into her chair, folding her arms across her chest, waiting patiently. She’d always given Y/N space when needed, but today, something felt different. She could tell her friend was carrying something heavy.

Y/N took a deep breath, her eyes glancing down at her notebook as she pulled it closer. The familiar act of writing helped her focus, and she quickly scribbled the words that had been bothering her.

I feel guilty for avoiding someone. I don’t know how to fix it.

She pushed the notebook toward Jiwon, her anxiety rising, hoping her friend would understand even though the words felt simple.

Jiwon didn’t immediately speak. She carefully read the note, her expression softening with understanding. After a long moment, she placed the notebook down and leaned forward, her voice quiet but filled with care.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jiwon said gently, meeting Y/N’s gaze. “Avoiding someone… it’s tough. But it’s also okay not to know what to do right away. You’re allowed to take your time to figure it out.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her heart easing a little at Jiwon’s comforting words.

Jiwon took a sip of her drink before speaking again, her tone playful but still full of understanding. “You know, I don’t think cookies are going to fix this, but it’s a good start. Want to talk more about it?”

Y/N chewed on her lip, feeling a bit of pressure to open up more. Maybe, just maybe, telling Jiwon a little more wouldn’t hurt.

Her mind was racing. She wasn’t sure how much she wanted to share, but something about Jiwon’s presence made her feel like it was safe to open up. After a long pause, she finally wrote again, her hand steadier now, but her heart still heavy.

It’s a boy from my lecture... He tried talking to me, but I got too nervous. I don’t know what to do.

She pushed the notebook toward Jiwon, her pulse quickening as the words hit the paper. It was the first time she was saying it out loud, even if it was just on paper.

Jiwon’s eyes widened as she read the note, and she looked up at Y/N with a soft, almost excited expression. “Wait, a boy from your lecture?” she repeated, her voice filled with surprise and a little bit of wonder.

Y/N nodded, her cheeks turning pink as she fidgeted with her hands.

Jiwon leaned forward, her eyes lighting up as if a whole new world had just opened up. “Oh my gosh, that’s so cute!” She grinned widely. “You’ve gotta talk to him! He likes you, I’m sure of it.” Jiwon’s voice softened as she continued, “I mean, it’s totally normal to feel nervous, but he wouldn’t have tried talking to you if he wasn’t interested, right?”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at Jiwon’s words, but the anxiety still lingered. Talking to him felt like a mountain she wasn’t sure she could climb.

“I don’t know if I can,” Y/N whispered, the feeling of self-doubt creeping back. She jotted down in the notebook once more.

What if I mess it up again?

Jiwon’s expression softened, her voice gentle but encouraging. “Hey, you don’t have to be perfect. Just talk to him when you’re ready. I want you to have fun with all this stuff, you know? Talk to boys, go on dates—just do all the girly things I’ve been dying for you to experience!” She paused, giving Y/N a playful look. “Besides, he’ll probably think you’re super cute the way you are.”

Y/N couldn’t help but feel a little warmth spread through her chest at Jiwon’s support. Maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to take the first step. After all, Jiwon had a way of making things feel easier, even when they seemed impossible.

Y/N hesitated, her pen hovering over the notebook. She glanced at Jiwon, who waited patiently, her head tilted slightly, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. Y/N took a steadying breath before starting to write.

His name is Beomgyu. I met him in the library a few days ago. He needed help finding a book, and I helped him.

She slid the notebook toward Jiwon and sat back, chewing on her lip again as her friend read.

Jiwon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh, so this isn’t just some random guy! You’ve already talked to him before?”

Y/N hesitated, then nodded slightly, scribbling another note. Kind of. He talked. I pointed him to the book he needed. That’s it.

Jiwon’s lips curved into a teasing smile. “And what’s he like? What’s your impression of him so far?”

Y/N tapped her pen against the notebook for a moment before jotting down. He’s loud. That’s all I know.

Jiwon laughed softly, shaking her head. “Loud, huh? That’s kind of cute. So, why do you feel guilty about avoiding him? He doesn’t sound like the shy type—you think he noticed?”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed as she wrote. I don’t know. Maybe? He tried talking to me, and I just froze.

Jiwon’s smile softened. “I get why you feel bad, but it’s okay, Y/N. You didn’t mean to ignore him. It’s not like you were trying to be rude.”

Y/N nodded, but her pen started moving again, her words spilling out onto the page. I just feel bad because… he seems like the type of person who’s good at talking to everyone, and I couldn’t even say anything back.

Jiwon’s expression turned thoughtful, her voice gentle. “Well, if he’s the kind of person who talks to everyone, I’m sure he’s not going to be upset about it. He probably understands that not everyone’s as outgoing as him.”

Y/N glanced down, a small part of her feeling reassured.

Jiwon tilted her head, her tone shifting to something more playful. “So, what are you going to do if you see him again? Maybe help him find another book?”

Y/N shook her head quickly, her cheeks heating up as she wrote. I’ll probably just hide.

“Y/N!” Jiwon gasped dramatically, though her grin showed she wasn’t actually upset. “Don’t hide! Come on, you already helped him once. If he talks to you again, just smile or wave. Baby steps, okay?”

Y/N hesitated but eventually nodded, her lips twitching into a faint smile. Jiwon’s encouragement felt comforting, even if the idea of facing Beomgyu again still made her stomach twist with nerves.

Jiwon leaned back in her chair, stirring her drink idly. “So… Beomgyu. What kind of loud are we talking about? Like, constantly talking over everyone loud, or just someone who naturally fills a room?”

Y/N hesitated, tapping her pen against the edge of her notebook before writing. He’s confident. Like he knows what to say, and doesn’t overthink it.

Jiwon tilted her head, her lips curving into a curious smile. “Confident, huh? That’s an interesting word to use. So, he’s not just loud—he actually knows how to carry himself?”

Y/N nodded slightly, her cheeks warming as she wrote again He’s the type of person people probably notice right away. I mean… not in a bad way.

Jiwon grinned, leaning forward. “And you noticed him. That says something.”

Y/N’s hand froze mid-air, her face heating up. She quickly scribbled. Only because he came up to me in the library! He needed help finding a book.

Jiwon laughed softly, her tone teasing but gentle. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop connecting dots. So, what happened after that? Did he say something that stuck with you?”

Y/N thought back to their brief encounter, her stomach fluttering as she remembered his bright smile. She shook her head and wrote. No, not really. He was just… nice. But when he talked, I felt like I didn’t know how to respond.

Jiwon softened at that, her teasing replaced by concern. “Y/N, that’s okay. You were caught off guard—that doesn’t mean you messed up or did anything wrong.”

Y/N pressed her lips together before writing. But what if I see him again?

Jiwon leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. “If you see him again… like I said before, take baby steps. Just give him a smile, show him you’re not avoiding him. You don’t have to say anything—just a simple nod and that beautiful smile of yours.”

Y/N hesitated, her pen tapping lightly against the notebook. Jiwon was always so good at talking to boys, and Y/N trusted her advice… Not that she was trying to impress Beomgyu or anything.

Y/N nodded slowly, the tightness in her chest loosening ever so slightly.

“And honestly?” Jiwon added with a grin. “If he’s confident like you said, I bet he’ll find a way to talk to you again. Guys like that aren’t easily discouraged.”

Y/N couldn’t help the faint smile that crept onto her face, a soft laugh escaping as she looked down at her notebook.

Jiwon beamed at the sound, pleased to see her friend relaxing. “Alright, now that we’ve dissected your charming classmate, can we focus on our assignments? Unless you want to write me a whole essay about Beomgyu…”

Y/N shook her head quickly, her cheeks burning as she turned the page in her notebook. Jiwon laughed, raising her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, I’ll drop it—for now.”

The two fell into an easy rhythm as they returned to their study session. But even as Y/N jotted down notes and worked through her assignments, a small part of her couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to see Beomgyu again—and if she’d have the courage to do anything differently.

The next few days passed in a blur, each one blending into the next. Y/N kept herself busy with classes, studying, and working at the university café. It was a routine that helped her stay grounded, and she liked the quiet, easy tasks—stocking supplies, making drinks, and cleaning. Currently, she was on drink duty again, and she found comfort in the rhythm of it, even as her mind wandered.

Her back was to the café entrance when she heard a familiar voice, just a bit louder than necessary.

“Taehyun, I’m telling you, I need something to wake me up. Maybe an iced latte?”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Beomgyu. She had heard that voice enough to recognize it, even without seeing him.

Trying to stay calm, Y/N kept her focus on the drinks she was preparing. She wasn’t ready to face him. She wasn’t even sure what she’d say, let alone if she could keep her anxiety from spilling out. Beomgyu and Taehyun were ordering, and she hoped—no, prayed—that they wouldn’t notice her.

Beomgyu’s voice rose, this time giving his order, “I’ll have a caramel macchiato, please.”

“One matcha frappé, and a caramel macchiato, coming right up!” Y/N’s coworker called out the order.

Beomgyu and Taehyun moved aside to wait for their drinks, talking casually, their laughter carrying through the small café. Y/N kept her back to them, eyes darting nervously between the drinks she was making and her coworker who, to her dismay, was too busy cashing out a group of customers to help.

Her heart was pounding now. She knew she’d have to hand the drinks to Beomgyu and Taehyun. There was no way around it. She couldn’t just hide forever. But she didn’t want them to look at her, not now.

Her hands trembled slightly as she prepared their drinks, praying they wouldn’t catch her eye. Her movements felt clumsy, each step taking longer than it should. As she finished the drinks, Y/N glanced at the counter, barely managing a quick, panicked glance at the pair. She kept her face turned away, her back still facing them.

Beomgyu and Taehyun were deep in conversation, and Y/N took the opportunity to push the drinks toward them as quickly as she could. But she wasn’t quick enough. As she glanced up, she found Beomgyu’s gaze meeting hers.

Beomgyu’s eyes lingered on her for a moment, and then his gaze dropped to her name tag. He smiled, a little surprised, before meeting her eyes again.

“Hey,” he greeted her, his tone casual but warm. “Y/N, right?” He glanced at her name tag again, as if confirming what he’d just read. "I didn’t realize you worked here."

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. His smile was friendly, but the direct attention still sent a wave of heat to her cheeks. She nodded, her throat tightening, not sure what to say next.

Taehyun, noticing the moment, raised a brow as he looked between them, but said nothing, content to let Beomgyu lead the conversation.

Beomgyu waited for her to respond, his smile still in place, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

Y/N’s heart raced, her mind spinning as she tried to recall what Jiwon had told her to do. Smile! That’s what she said, right? she thought, panicking slightly.

Forcing her lips into the smallest smile she could manage, Y/N quickly nodded in Beomgyu’s direction. It felt stiff and unnatural like her face wasn’t cooperating with the nerves flooding her body. She immediately looked down at the counter, hoping her awkwardness wouldn’t be too obvious.

Beomgyu, however, seemed to notice her discomfort. His smile softened, and he looked at her with a trace of curiosity, not at all bothered by her nervousness. He turned to Taehyun but lingered for a moment longer than necessary, his gaze still on her.

“Our drinks look great,” Beomgyu commented, taking both cups and passing one to Taehyun. He looked back at Y/N, offering a quiet, “Thank you,” before turning to head toward a table with his friend.

As Y/N went back to the counter, she tried to focus on preparing the next drink, but her thoughts kept circling back to Beomgyu. Was that it? Was that all? Maybe he didn’t really want to talk to her, or perhaps he had only been polite because he noticed how awkward she was. She hadn't said a word, so it made sense that Beomgyu might’ve thought she wasn’t interested in talking.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she made the next drink, her mind racing. She hadn’t realized that Beomgyu had actually been trying to be kind to her, his smile soft, his words gentle, trying to make her feel at ease without pushing her. But to Y/N, it had felt like she’d somehow missed something important. The small part of her that had hoped for something more—maybe even just a longer conversation—started to feel foolish.

With a quiet sigh, she focused back on the task at hand. She had to remind herself that it was just a casual exchange, just like any other day at work. Nothing more to it. But the nervous fluttering in her chest didn’t go away, and as she handed off the next drinks to her coworker, she couldn’t help but steal a glance toward the table where Beomgyu and Taehyun had sat down. And then, just as quickly, she froze.

Beomgyu was staring at her.

No, wait—maybe it wasn’t me he was staring at, there’s a ton of people here, she thought. Her heart skipped a beat as she glanced away, feeling a flush creep up her neck and cheeks. She couldn’t be sure, but it definitely felt like eyes were on her. She tried to shake off the feeling and focus back on her work, but the nervous flutter in her chest wouldn’t go away.

Her shift passed in a blur after that, the lingering buzz of unease settling in her stomach. By the time she stepped out of the café, the evening air was cool against her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth still clinging to her face. She pulled her jacket tighter around herself, letting the familiar rhythm of her walk to her car settle her thoughts.

By the time Y/N got home, the weight of the day pressed down on her—not from exhaustion, but from a restless energy that refused to settle. She slipped off her shoes at the door and made her way upstairs, the familiar quiet of her room wrapping around her like a warm embrace.

After setting her bag down, she collapsed onto her bed, staring at the ceiling as her mind replayed the moment in the café.

He was staring at me… right?

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. It wasn’t like she wasn’t used to customers looking her way—it came with the job—but this was different. This was Beomgyu. And the way her heart had reacted to him, the way her breath had caught in her throat, made it impossible to ignore.

With a sigh, she rolled onto her side and grabbed a notebook from her nightstand. Instead of writing, she flipped to a fresh page, letting her pen glide across the paper in small, aimless doodles—a pair of mismatched socks, a tiny bear with round ears and stubby paws sitting beside a cup of coffee, and a star with a sleepy face.

Drawing always helped settle her nerves, but tonight, her thoughts kept drifting. To the way Beomgyu had said hi. The way he had left so casually, as if the whole moment had meant nothing.

Maybe it was nothing.

She tapped the pen against her lip, staring at the page. Then, without thinking, she sketched the messy outline of a person—shaggy hair, a hoodie, a slight tilt of the head.

Y/N blinked.

She closed the notebook a moment later, pressing her palms against the cover as though trying to erase the drawing.

Nope. Not thinking about this.

Grabbing her blanket, she curled up into a cocoon, burying her face into the fabric. Tomorrow, she’d forget about it. Beomgyu was just another customer.

She just wished her heart would believe it.

The quiet of her room settled in, the gentle hum of the outside world barely making it through the thin walls. For a few moments, it felt like the perfect escape. The world outside her room could wait.

But then, she heard the creak of the floorboard outside her door—heavy footsteps that didn’t belong to her dad.

Y/N’s chest tightened.

A sharp knock at the door broke the silence. "Y/N," came the voice from the other side.

Her stepmom didn’t wait for an answer before pushing the door open.

"Don’t you think it’s time you stop with all this silent treatment?" She asked, her voice tight with the familiar frustration that seemed to follow Y/N like a shadow. "This whole ‘I’m too quiet to speak to anyone’ routine is getting old."

Y/N didn’t respond, her face still buried in the blanket. She knew what was coming, but she couldn’t bring herself to face it right now.

Her stepmom took a step further into the room, arms crossed over her chest. "You could’ve said something at breakfast this morning, but instead, you just sat there, barely even looking at me. I’m trying, but I’m getting tired of it."

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat, but she didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Not right now.

In her mind, Y/N silently disagreed. Her stepmom wasn’t trying at all. She never had. Not when Y/N was a child, when her silence was met with anger and frustration rather than understanding. Her stepmom had always used her quietness as a way to control her, to make her feel less, to force her to change in ways she wasn’t ready to. It had never been about helping; it had always been about power.

But Y/N couldn’t say any of this. Not now.

Her stepmom’s voice cut through the silence again, sharp as ever. "Maybe if you actually spoke up, you wouldn’t feel so isolated all the time. You wouldn’t have to hide away in your room."

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted to argue, to say it wasn’t that simple, but the words were stuck, trapped behind the knot in her throat.

Her stepmom waited for a response, but when none came, she sighed heavily. "You know, it’s not normal to shut people out like this. I’m trying to help you." The words were layered with frustration, but Y/N knew better. Her stepmom's so-called "help" had never been anything more than a way to force her into compliance.

Y/N didn’t open her eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to look at her. She could feel the weight of the situation press down on her, the suffocating silence stretching on between them. Her stepmom was still standing there, waiting. But Y/N wasn’t going to give in. She never did.

"Don’t you think it’s time you grew up and spoke for yourself?" Her stepmom’s voice softened, but it was the kind of soft that felt manipulative, like it was meant to break her down, make her feel guilty. "I’m just trying to help you, Y/N. But you’re making this so much harder than it needs to be."

Y/N’s chest tightened. It was always like this. The same cycle, the same words, the same push to make her speak, to make her perform for her. She was so tired of it.

The silence that followed seemed to last forever.

With a sigh, Y/N finally sat up, the blanket slipping down to her waist. She didn’t meet her stepmom’s eyes, but she could feel her gaze on her, sharp and expectant.

The silence between them felt suffocating, pressing against Y/N’s chest, until the knot in her throat finally became too tight. She had to do something. But what?

Her stepmom’s voice broke through the silence again. "I’m not going to stand here all night, Y/N." The words dripped with frustration.

Y/N’s hands trembled beneath the blanket. She could feel the weight of her stepmom’s expectations, her anger, all of it crashing down on her. And yet, the words refused to come. The silence—her silence—was both her defense and her prison.

For a moment, Y/N almost considered speaking. Maybe, just maybe, saying something would make it stop. But she knew that wouldn’t work. It never did. Her stepmom never wanted to listen. She just wanted to force her to speak, to force her to be someone else.

The thoughts swirled in her mind, the tension in her chest growing heavier, until it felt like she might suffocate. She wanted to yell at her stepmom, to tell her that it wasn’t that simple, that she couldn’t just speak up because her body refused to cooperate. She wanted to say that she wasn’t choosing this silence, but the words never came.

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, biting down on her lip to keep the flood of emotions inside. She tried to take a deep breath, but it felt like something was lodged in her throat, a thick, suffocating pressure that kept her from making a sound.

Her stepmom’s voice cut through the silence again, sharper this time. "Why can’t you just say something? Is it really that hard?"

Y/N flinched, her entire body tensing as if the question might break her. She wanted to scream, to shout that it was hard—that she wanted to say something, but she couldn’t. But her throat remained tight, her voice locked away.

"I just want you to be normal!" Her stepmom’s voice cracked with anger, her words sharp and biting, as though the pressure of everything had finally erupted.

Her stepmom waited, the air thick with expectation, but Y/N could only curl further into herself, gripping the blanket tighter, wishing she could disappear.

"Fine," her stepmom muttered, the bitterness in her voice clear now. "Keep hiding. You always do." She turned sharply and left, the door closing behind her with a finality that stung.

Y/N sat motionless, her legs pulled up to her chest, the blanket now pulled tightly around her body. The quiet in her room, which usually felt like a soft cocoon, was now suffocating. The hum of the outside world couldn’t mask the tension that still lingered in the air, thick with the weight of her stepmom’s words. It felt heavy now, the silence pressing in on her, amplifying everything she couldn’t say, everything she wished she could change.

The anger from their confrontation burned in her chest, but it was a slow, bubbling kind of anger. The kind that twisted inside her, gnawing at her with each passing second. She wanted to scream, to yell everything she’d never been able to say, but the words were stuck. Her body felt frozen, caught in this never-ending loop of failure.

Her stepmom’s voice echoed in her mind, each phrase repeating over and over like a broken record. "Why can’t you just say something?" "I want you to be normal." The words cut into her, digging deeper into the wound her stepmom had been picking at for years. And yet, despite the anger that flared up inside her, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that her stepmom was right.

She hated herself for it. Why can’t I just be normal?

The question lingered in the air, gnawing at her. She curled in on herself tighter, her nails digging into her arms. She could feel the anger rising in her chest, but it wasn’t the kind of anger that would help her break free—it was the kind that ate away at her from the inside, tearing at the pieces of her that were already fragile. The kind of anger that made her doubt herself, make her feel smaller, weaker.

She felt so broken. And for a moment, she wished she could tear herself apart and rebuild herself into someone who wasn’t so defective. Maybe if she were someone else—someone who could speak, who could just act normal—things wouldn’t be this way. Maybe her stepmom wouldn’t see her as a burden, as something to fix.

But the truth was, she didn’t know how to change. She didn’t know how to be what everyone expected her to be. And every time her stepmom spoke to her like that, it felt like the pieces of her own self-worth chipped away, leaving behind something less than what she’d been before.

Normal—that word had never felt more unattainable.

Y/N closed her eyes, but it didn’t make the feeling go away. It only made the weight of her own silence feel more suffocating. The pressure of trying to conform, to fit into a mold she didn’t belong in, was like a vise tightening around her chest. Her stepmom’s disappointment echoed in her head, filling up every empty space. Why can’t you just speak?

She didn’t know how to speak when everything inside her felt like it was locked behind a door she couldn’t open. Every attempt to break free from the silence had always led her back here, to this suffocating place where she couldn’t even breathe right.

The self-hatred was familiar now. It had been a constant companion for as long as she could remember. She hated herself for not being able to meet expectations, for not being enough in the way everyone seemed to want her to be. She hated that her stepmom was right—that she was different, that she didn’t belong, that she wasn’t normal.

Her breath hitched as the frustration built up, an unbearable knot in her throat. She wanted to shout, to make it stop, but all she could do was lie there, trapped in her own mind, fighting with herself. It always felt like this. Every time, the words would slip away, and she'd be left in this awful silence, all alone with her thoughts.

But more than anything, Y/N hated how small she felt. How her stepmom's words had a way of making her feel so insignificant, so unworthy. It was as though, by not speaking, she was failing in every way possible. The thought of her years in speech therapy stung. She'd tried. She had. But somewhere along the way, things had fallen apart. In middle school, she’d made progress. But high school? That was when it all came crashing down. She'd had no therapy, no guidance, and the silence crept back in like an old friend—unwanted, but familiar. And now, here she was, stuck with the same old weight in her chest, the same crushing inability to speak.

Tears burned at the back of her eyes, but it wasn’t just sadness she felt—it was anger, raw and bitter, mingling with the self-hatred that had always lingered under the surface. She wanted to scream, to yell everything she’d never been able to say. She wanted to shout at her stepmom that she wasn’t broken, that it wasn’t her fault. But the words, once again, were stuck, trapped behind the same invisible barrier.

Instead, she let herself cry, angry tears streaking down her face. She didn’t even know why she was crying anymore. Was it because of her stepmom? Or because of everything she could never say? The frustration built in her chest, but all she could do was let the tears fall, each one carrying the weight of her silence, of her inability to just be like everyone else.

Her fingers, trembling, found their way to the edges of her sleeve. She began rubbing the fabric between her fingers, a mindless gesture, but one that had always calmed her in moments like these. The soft, repetitive motion felt grounding, like it was the only thing in her control when everything else felt so far out of reach. She didn’t even notice she was doing it—this small act of comfort that was as much a reflex as it was a way to cope with the overwhelming flood of emotions crashing over her.

As the minutes dragged on, she felt herself sinking deeper into the shame and frustration, the thoughts spiraling out of control. How many times had people thought she was rude? How many times had she been told she was unfriendly, cold, because she couldn’t speak up? She’d seen the looks, the whispers behind her back. She knew what they thought of her. A shy girl? No. They thought she was stuck-up, standoffish, even rude. They didn’t understand that it wasn’t about not wanting to talk—it was about not being able to.

Her head fell into her knees, her body shaking with the force of the tears she couldn’t hold back. If only she could just be... normal. But she wasn’t. She couldn’t be. And it hurt more than anything.

A few days later, the evening had fallen, and the café was quieter than usual. The last of the customers were finishing their drinks, and Y/N’s coworker had settled behind the counter, casually handling the few remaining customers. Since the café wasn’t busy, Y/N had been given the task of cleaning up—sweeping the floors and wiping down the tables. It felt like a peaceful end to her shift, one where she could quietly focus on the tasks at hand.

As Y/N moved around the café, her mind was distant, absorbed in the repetitive motion of cleaning. She didn’t notice when the door jingled open and someone walked in.

Beomgyu entered the café with a relaxed air, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on Y/N. She was still focused on her task, oblivious to his presence. His gaze softened, watching her for a moment before he stepped up to the counter to place his order.

“I’ll just have an iced green tea, please,” Beomgyu said, his voice light, but loud enough for Y/N’s coworker to hear.

Y/N’s coworker nodded and got to work making the drink, his attention now split between the counter and the lingering emptiness of the café. Once the drink was handed to him, Beomgyu moved to the side, taking his usual spot by the window and casually sitting down at a table, his eyes naturally drifting back to Y/N as she moved about.

He noticed how focused she seemed, her hands gently wiping down a table. She was lost in her own world, unaware of the quiet gaze that followed her movements. For a moment, Beomgyu simply watched, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Y/N continued cleaning, unaware of his eyes on her. She moved to the next table, pausing to scrub at a stubborn spot. It wasn’t until she reached for the cleaning supplies near the counter that she noticed Beomgyu sitting at the window, looking in her direction.

Her heart skipped, and for a moment, she froze. Was he... looking at her? She quickly turned her gaze away, hoping she hadn’t been caught staring. Y/N busied herself with finishing up the last of the cleaning, trying to shake off the nerves that had suddenly crept in.

Beomgyu, however, wasn’t making things easier. Every now and then, his eyes would flick back to her, but he never made a move to interrupt her work. Instead, he took a sip of his drink, his attention still lingering on her, as though waiting for the right moment to approach.

Y/N stole another quick glance at him, her stomach fluttering when she realized that yes, he was indeed looking her way. She quickly looked down at her hands, wishing for the floor to swallow her up. He wasn’t making any attempt to talk to her, but just knowing he was there, watching her, made her feel exposed in a way she wasn’t sure how to handle.

She returned to the counter, hoping to stay busy so she wouldn’t have to overthink the situation. Y/N tried to keep her movements casual, even as she caught herself glancing in Beomgyu’s direction again.

Beomgyu smiled to himself as he watched her, taking another sip of his drink. He wasn’t in a rush to leave. He liked how she didn’t seem to know he was watching, giving him the chance to enjoy the quiet moment with her without pressure.

The café had grown quieter as the clock ticked closer to closing time. Y/N’s shift was nearing its end, and she was finishing up the last few tasks—restocking and collecting stray cups. Her coworker, who was managing the counter, had been keeping himself busy with a couple of remaining customers. Y/N stole a glance at the clock, noting that her shift would end soon. Her heart, however, was still racing from the nerves that had built up ever since Beomgyu had entered the café earlier.

She glanced over at his table, finding him still seated alone, but this time, his gaze seemed to be fixed on his phone. She quickly looked away, trying to ignore the feeling in her chest. It was hard not to notice the way his eyes lingered on her all night, but she kept herself busy, hoping the discomfort would fade.

After about half an hour, Y/N finally made her way toward the counter, preparing to clock out. Her coworker was chatting with a customer, so Y/N walked over to the register to grab her things, trying to keep her movements casual, trying to pretend she wasn’t aware of Beomgyu sitting just a few feet away. Eager to be away from work, she quickly untied her apron, folded it neatly, and slipped it into her bag

She pulled her bag over her shoulder and then successfully clocked out. Just as she was about to turn to leave, she felt a light tap on the counter. She looked up, startled, to find Beomgyu standing there with a soft smile.

“Hey,” he greeted her, his voice calm. “Are you about to head out?”

Y/N felt the tension in her body rise again, but she nodded.

Beomgyu’s smile softened as he looked at her. “Ah, I see. Well, I was hoping I could talk to you for a minute before you go. If that’s okay?”

Y/N froze for a moment; she hadn’t expected Beomgyu to approach her again, and part of her was still unsure of how to react. With a slow nod, she looked up at his face.

And that’s when it hit her—up close, Beomgyu was even more striking than she had realized. His eyes, warm and expressive, were just a shade lighter than she remembered, and his smile was disarming. There was something about the way the dim café lighting caught the curve of his jaw and the easy confidence he wore like a second skin.

Y/N found herself momentarily breathless, her thoughts scattering as she studied him. His features were so effortlessly handsome, she hadn’t truly noticed before, distracted by the nervousness whenever they crossed paths. Now, with him standing so close, she realized he had a presence that made it hard to look away, even for a brief moment.

Shaking herself out of her daze, Y/N quickly looked away, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. She wasn’t sure if he’d noticed her brief lapse in composure, but the moment of silence stretched out between them.

Y/N took a deep breath, still feeling the nervous flutter in her chest, but she could tell Beomgyu wasn’t trying to pressure her. His smile was genuine, and there was a kindness in his eyes that made her feel a little at ease.

She glanced at the clock, seeing that the café was about to close, and then back at Beomgyu. With a soft exhale, she nodded. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to talk, even if it was just a little.

Beomgyu’s eyes lit up, his expression softening. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I’m glad you’re willing to chat. I know it’s late, but if you’re up for it, we could head to the library. It’s quiet, and I know that’s where we first met… Thought it might be a good place to continue the conversation.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment. She wasn’t sure about leaving the café, but the idea of being somewhere familiar, like the library, felt less intimidating. She nodded again, her fingers brushing the edge of her apron nervously, but she made the decision. It was just a short walk. She could do this.

Beomgyu smiled brightly at her response. His expression a mix of relief and warmth. “Great! Let’s head over then.”

The walk to the library was quiet, the cool night air brushing against their skin as the campus felt peaceful. Most students had already headed home, and the soft glow of the streetlights illuminated the path ahead. Y/N could feel her nerves easing a little as she walked beside Beomgyu, his presence somehow calming despite her earlier anxiety.

They didn’t speak much during the walk, and Y/N was thankful for the silence. It gave her time to think and process everything that had happened. She kept her gaze forward, but she could feel Beomgyu’s presence beside her, his footsteps light and steady. Every now and then, she could hear him humming softly, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was nervous too.

When they reached the library, the door automatically slid open, and they stepped inside. The soft hush of the building immediately enveloped them, the sound of footsteps echoing in the empty hall. Beomgyu led the way, gesturing toward a table by one of the large windows.

“Here’s good,” he said with a smile. “I like this spot. It’s peaceful, and you get a nice view of the campus at night.”

Y/N nodded, grateful for the quiet atmosphere. She felt the weight of the day lifting off her shoulders as she took a seat, she placed her bag in the chair next to her and then pulled out her notebook.

Beomgyu settled into the chair across from her, his gaze softening as he looked at her. “So… I guess I should start by saying thanks for meeting me. I know this might feel a little random, but I just wanted to talk with you more.”

Beomgyu shifted in his seat, the quietness between them feeling heavier than he’d expected. He wasn’t used to moments like this—he thrived in conversation, in laughter, in noise. Sitting across from someone so silent was unfamiliar, and for a moment, he wondered if he’d made things awkward.

Y/N glanced up at Beomgyu briefly before opening her notebook. She hesitated for a moment, her fingers brushing over the cover as if steadying herself. Flipping through the pages in search of a clean spot, she tried not to feel the weight of Beomgyu’s gaze.

As she turned the pages, Beomgyu’s attention was drawn to the scattered doodles filling the margins and corners—tiny cats curled up in intricate poses, a few birds in mid-flight, and even a tiny turtle peeking out of its shell. The sketches were charming and full of personality, giving him a glimpse into a side of her he hadn’t noticed before. He couldn’t help but smile, but his smile quickly faded as realization set in.

But as she kept flipping, it dawned on him. She’s never spoken to me… Is this how she talks to people? he thought, his expression softening as understanding settled in.

It wasn’t a bad thing—it was just different. Beomgyu wasn’t used to this kind of communication, but there was something fascinating about it. Watching her write instead of hearing her speak felt quieter, more intentional, and somehow more personal.

Finally landing on a clean page, Y/N pulled out her pen. Her hands trembled slightly as she began writing, her nerves threatening to overwhelm her. She’d never done this with someone like him before. What if he didn’t understand? What if he thought it was weird? Most people found her notebook strange, and she braced herself for the same reaction.

Beomgyu’s natural urge to fill the silence started to creep in, but he resisted it, allowing the quiet to settle around them. It dawned on him that this was how she communicated—on her terms.

When she finished writing, she slid the notebook toward him, her stomach twisting in knots.

Why did you want to talk to me?

Beomgyu blinked, surprised at the bluntness of her question. He glanced up at her and smiled. For someone so reserved, she didn’t shy away from being direct when she wrote.

“Well… I guess I just wanted to get to know you better,” he said, his tone soft but honest. “You’re quiet, but there’s something about you that makes me curious. Like, I feel like there’s more to you than what people might see, and I wanted to figure out what that is.”

Y/N listened carefully, her hands hovering above the notebook as she processed his words. The knot in her stomach loosened slightly, though the nervous energy still buzzed beneath the surface, Beomgyu’s answer caught her off guard.

When she glanced up and saw the way Beomgyu’s gaze softened—more curious than anything—her heart fluttered, though this time, for an entirely different reason. She wasn’t used to someone looking at her like that—without judgment or pity, but with genuine interest.

Her pen hovered for a moment before she wrote again.

I’m not good at talking to people.

Beomgyu leaned closer to read her note, his smile growing softer. “I kind of figured,” he said with a small chuckle. “But honestly? That’s okay. You don’t have to talk if you’re not comfortable. This is different, but I don’t mind it. Actually…” He paused, his eyes catching on her doodles again. “I think it’s kind of cool.” Y/N blinked at his response, her heart skipping because of the unexpected compliment. Her fingers fiddled with the pen as she wrote again.

You’re really nice.

Beomgyu read her note, his grin widening. “I try,” he teased gently. “But seriously, I like this. I like talking to you—however you want to do it.”

For the first time, Y/N felt the tension in her shoulders easing. Beomgyu wasn’t just tolerating her way of communicating—he genuinely appreciated it.

They continued their conversation, the flow of words becoming more natural between them. Y/N shared her passion for animals, her dream of becoming a vet tech, and how much peace she found in working with animals rather than people. Beomgyu, in turn, talked about his love for music, his journey in learning audio engineering, and his deep admiration for the creative process.

Beomgyu wasn’t just being patient with her—he genuinely seemed to enjoy this, treating their exchange like any other conversation.

She tapped her pen against the page before writing. What’s something really dumb that makes you happy?

Beomgyu’s face lit up as he read her question. “Oh, that’s easy,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “When I do laundry and actually find socks that match. It feels like a miracle every time.”

Y/N looked at him, amused, and wrote. That’s… really specific.

Beomgyu gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Are you saying that doesn’t make you happy? Matching socks are an underrated joy!”

She pressed her lips together to hold back a laugh and scribbled. I don’t hate it, but I wouldn’t call it a miracle.

He shook his head with mock disappointment. “Wow. I can’t believe I’m sitting here with a sock-matching hater.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled, tapping her pen before writing. I like it when my blanket and pillow are cold when I get into bed.

Beomgyu froze, his face suddenly serious. “Okay, that’s a good one. There’s nothing like that first cold spot under the blanket. But counterpoint—nothing is worse than getting out of bed when you’re nice and warm.”

Y/N sighed dramatically and wrote. Pain. True suffering.

He grinned at her response. “Right? Honestly, I’d stay in bed forever if it was socially acceptable.”

She shook her head, but her smile lingered as she underlined the word pain. The conversation wasn’t deep, but it didn’t have to be. For the first time in a long while, talking—well, writing—with someone felt easy.

After some time, Beomgyu glanced at his phone and sighed. “I should probably get going,” he said with a sheepish smile. “Didn’t realize how late it was.”

Y/N nodded, a bit reluctantly. She was glad they had spent time together, but part of her wished she didn’t have to say goodbye so soon. Still, the warmth from their conversation stayed with her, and she felt a small, content smile tugging at her lips.

Beomgyu stood up and grabbed his bag, looking at her one more time with a soft expression. “I really enjoyed talking with you.”

Y/N reached for her notebook to write something, but before she could, Beomgyu waved it off. “You don’t have to write anything. I just… wanted you to know I’m happy we talked.”

Y/N smiled at him, her fingers brushing the edge of her notebook before she tucked it away in her bag.

Beomgyu looked at Y/N with a thoughtful expression, his voice softening. “Hey, do you need help getting home? It’s late, and I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

Y/N blinked, surprised by his concern. Her heart fluttered at the sincerity in his tone. She shook her head gently, signaling she was okay, though her hesitation lingered. It wasn’t often that someone cared enough to ask.

Beomgyu caught the brief pause in her reaction and nodded understandingly, offering a small, reassuring smile. “Alright. Just wanted to make sure.”

As he adjusted the strap of his bag, a thought seemed to strike him. He hesitated for a moment before pulling out his phone. “Actually, do you mind if I get your number? You know… in case you ever need help… or want to hang out, or even just talk.”

Y/N froze for a split second, caught off guard by the request but oddly comforted. After a moment, she reached out and gently took his phone, her fingers brushing his for just an instant. The warmth of the moment made her chest tighten, but she quickly typed in her number and handed it back.

“Thanks,” Beomgyu said, his grin widening as he glanced at the screen. “I’ll text you so you have mine, too. And seriously, let me know if you ever need anything. Oh, and… make sure you get home safe, okay?”

Y/N nodded, her heart lighter than it had been all day. She glanced up at him as he turned to leave, feeling an unexpected warmth in her chest. Just as he started to walk away, she found herself offering him a small, genuine smile—a gesture that felt monumental to her. Beomgyu paused when he caught it, his own smile softening, before he gave her a playful little wave and disappeared through the library doors.

As Y/N left the library, she hugged her bag close to her side, the notebook tucked safely inside. The cool night air nipped at her cheeks, making her quicken her steps toward the parking lot where her car waited. The campus was quiet at this hour, with only the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hum of streetlights breaking the stillness.

Reaching her car, she unlocked it and slid into the driver’s seat. The familiar quiet of the vehicle wrapped around her, a welcome reprieve after the unexpected emotional weight of the evening. She gripped the steering wheel loosely, taking a moment to sit there and reflect.

Her conversation with Beomgyu replayed in her mind. The way he smiled at her, the patience in his tone, and his genuine curiosity about her notebook—it was all so… different. Not many people had ever taken the time to truly try and understand her. But Beomgyu had, and he hadn’t made her feel strange for the way she communicated. If anything, he made her feel seen.

A small smile crept onto her lips. For once, she didn’t feel consumed by guilt or regret for how she handled things. Tonight had been a good step—one she could feel proud of. She had opened up, even just a little, and it hadn’t been as terrifying as she expected.

The thought of Beomgyu’s parting words warmed her chest. “I like talking to you—however you want to do it.” He meant it, didn’t he? It was hard to believe someone like him, so outgoing and confident, could be so patient with someone like her. And yet, he had been.

Her thoughts shifted to home, where her dad was likely waiting up for her, as he often did when she worked late or stayed out studying. She hated making him worry, but she also felt the need to take a moment for herself. Her fingers brushed against the strap of her bag, and she smiled again, this time a little wider.

Starting the car, Y/N let out a soft sigh as she pulled out of the parking lot. Tonight felt like the start of something new, something different—and for the first time, the thought didn’t completely terrify her.

The walk back to his dorm was a blur for Beomgyu, his mind still lingering on the evening. Their conversation had been so easy, yet so different from what he was used to. He had been surprised by how comfortable it felt to talk to her, even with the silence and the notebook. It made him think about her in ways he hadn’t before.

As he got back to his room, he pulled out his phone and immediately searched for: “How to help my shy friend,” “What do I do when my friend doesn’t talk,” “Social anxiety help,” “Friend doesn’t talk but I want to help.” His search was filled with questions that might seem silly to anyone else, but Beomgyu was determined to understand. He didn’t know exactly what Y/N’s situation was yet, but he could tell there was more to it than just being shy. He wanted to be the kind of friend who didn’t make things worse, the kind of person who could make her feel comfortable enough to open up without pressure.

He clicked on a few links and began reading, more focused than he had been in a while. He wasn’t sure where the research would lead him, but for the first time, it didn’t matter. He just wanted to make sure he did things the right way.

As time went on, Beomgyu ended up sprawled out on his bed, his laptop perched precariously on his knees. The bright screen was filled with open tabs, each one boasting headlines like "Understanding Social Anxiety" and "How to Support a Shy Friend Without Overstepping." He had even clicked on a thread titled "What to Do If Someone Doesn't Talk to You," though he quickly closed it after realizing it was mostly people venting about awkward first dates.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Why is this so complicated?” he muttered to himself, scrolling through yet another article that felt more clinical than helpful.

Frustrated, he grabbed his phone and opened his messages. His thumb hovered over Taehyun’s contact for a second before he typed out a text:

Beomgyu: Hypothetically, if you had a really shy friend who doesn’t talk much, how would you make them feel comfortable? Trying to do some research.

It didn’t take long for Taehyun to reply.

Taehyun: Hypothetically? Or are we talking about an actual person here? Are you asking for yourself or writing an essay?

Beomgyu rolled his eyes and quickly typed back.

Beomgyu: Just answer the question, dude Taehyun: Depends. How shy are they? Beomgyu: Like… doesn’t talk. At all. Writes instead

Taehyun: Oh. That’s… different. Is this about someone you know?

Beomgyu hesitated before replying.

Beomgyu: Yeah. I just don’t want to do or say something wrong. I feel like they’re nervous around people, and I don’t want to make it worse

Taehyun’s response took a bit longer this time.

Taehyun: Alright, here’s the deal: don’t overthink it. Just treat them the way you already are. If they’re comfortable enough to communicate with you, that means you’re doing something right Beomgyu: What if I accidentally say something that upsets them? Taehyun: Then apologize. Seriously, Beomgyu, it’s not rocket science. You don’t need to handle them like glass. Just listen and don’t push them. Let them come to you at their own pace

Beomgyu frowned at the screen, rereading the messages. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Taehyun’s advice—it was good advice—but he still felt like there was more he should be doing.

Beomgyu: I guess that makes sense… I just don’t want them to feel like I don’t care Taehyun: You’re literally researching how to be a better friend to them. If they don’t see you care, they’re blind Beomgyu: Fair. Taehyun: Wait. Hold up. This wouldn’t happen to be a girl, would it?

Beomgyu’s stomach flipped as he read the text.

Beomgyu: What does that have to do with anything? Taehyun: Everything, bro. You don’t even put this much effort into group projects. If this isn’t a crush, I’ll eat my textbooks

Beomgyu groaned, his face heating up.

Beomgyu: It’s not like that! Taehyun: Sure. Keep telling yourself that

Despite the teasing, Beomgyu felt a little better. Taehyun had a way of grounding him while still making him feel like a complete idiot, and somehow, it always worked.

Beomgyu: Thanks, I guess Taehyun: Anytime. Now go to bed before you fry your brain. Your girl deserves better than a sleep-deprived Beomgyu Beomgyu: She’s NOT—ugh. Goodnight.

Beomgyu dropped his phone onto his chest with a sigh, Taehyun’s words replaying in his mind. It wasn’t like that… was it?

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