#as if I could feel it if I walked where he had danced.

[bonbonly]

bon’s thoughts (18+) a/n: needed a small break from studying but this is all i could think about (tw: somnophilia, cunnilungus)

coming back from work extremely tired, the ac’s broken and it’s hot in your bedroom. after a cold shower, you dried yourself off with a towel and flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling until your eyes slowly closed and you drifted off to a peaceful slumber.

but how dare you ignore your “puppy” charles, who had been anxiously waiting for you to return? he had done the dishes, folded your laundry and was waiting for you to come down to the living room to greet him. he'd been good the whole day since you promised him that if he didn't fuck something up and start whining like a brat, he'd get a good reward - your pretty pussy.

and so he waited. and waited. ugh and waited, but you didn't seem to come down from your room! it surely didn't help that the ac was broken too, he was sweating through his white tee but he was too lazy to take his clothes off and put it in the laundry basket; what if you came down and saw the basket filled with clothes and thought he didn't do his work? nuh uh, he'd have to pull through and make sure you couldn't find any excuse to punish you.

he twisted the rings on his fingers, biting his lip as he thought about what was taking you so long. you didn't even acknowledge him when you first walked through the door. you had tossed your coat off and handed him your bag, and how cruel of you to miss his puckered lips that chased after your fleeting form! he thought he had done something wrong, and he pouted as he remembered the events of the day. no, no! no he did everything right, so why were you ignoring him?

as the seconds transformed into very long minutes, he carefully stepped onto the staircase and headed to the bedroom where you laid, fast asleep. imagine his surprise to see you sprawled out on the bed, like a present for him to take! his excitement knew no bounds and he slipped his shirt off his shoulders, a sheen line of sweat beading down his chest from the heat of the room and he crawled over to the edge of the bed. he knew that he wasn't allowed to ever touch you unless he was given permission to - it was a privilege he had to earn, but seeing you like this? his mouth was watering as he took in the sight of your parted legs, the moonlight catching onto your gummy folds. he slowly exhaled onto your cunt, watching the way you stirred ever so slightly at the sensation.

"this is not right," charles whispered to himself, "she would not like this but... but it's been so long."

he caught his whine in his throat, making sure not to make any more noises as he leaned closer, hovering above you as he placed his hands on each side of your hips. slowly, he let a glob of his saliva travel from his tongue down to your clit, almost as if it was dancing to your cunt. he pressed his nose against your sensitive nub, inhaling your scent.

you smelled like you were made for him - err, well, he was made for you. he couldn't have those foolish thoughts circling in his head, not when the punishment from last time still stung against his ass. he licked a long stripe through your folds, his eyes trained on the way your soft tits rose and fell with each breath. he yearned to reach out and pinch those nipples, twist them hard enough for you to cry out in pain so that you'd feel helpless in his arms not the other way around.

what, no! charles! get it together, what are you thinking? you know better than that!

he wrapped his lips around your clit, suckling on the nub gently as his eyes fluttered close. he was savoring every second, his head bobbing. he tugged your trapped clit and watched the hood raise more, calling out for his tongue. he lapped at your glistening folds, watching them snap back in place, and that's when your hips started to buck into the air unconsciously, your brow furrowed as soft gasps escaped your lips. he froze for a second, fear coursing through his veins at the thought that you might be awake but after a few moments of silence, he sighed in relief and resumed his motions.

he pushed a digit into your core, feeling your walls clench and suck him in greedily - a heavenly feeling altogether and he brought his lips right back onto your clit, pumping his finger in and out, in and out before adding another. he picked up his pace, curling his fingers precisely where you had told him to and he was so lost in your essence that he nearly missed it when you had finally woken up.

"what are you doing, puppy?" you asked, your hand shooting out to grip his hair and tug him away from your cunt. he gulped, his cheeks all flushed and eyes wide.

"désolé, i-i... i did n-not m-mean to wake you!" charles stammered, his fingers still stuffed into your dripping cunt, "i just... i did all you ask for today a-and you p-promised me a reward so i thought tha-"

"you thought wrong," you snapped, shoving his fingers out of you. as much as you would've loved to indulge in yourself, you were still awfully tired from work, "tsk tsk tsk, and here i thought you were actually being good for once."

"b-but i am good!" charles cried out, shaking his head with tears streaming down his face in desperation, "i r-really am good, p-please! no, please i've been good all this time!"

it still didn't change his fate as you tied him to a chair across from you, putting a muzzle around his face. his sweats were long gone, so the both of you could see his hard cock aching for your touch that he knew would never come. he bucked his hips into the air frantically, his cock slapping against his stomach as he continued to beg for forgiveness and not this cruel punishment. he had been doing so good, why did he have to mess it up? ugh, stupid stupid stupid charles! he always messed up!

you crawled back onto the bed, a satisfied smirk on your face as his pathetic whimpers and whines lulled you back to sleep.

[youthguk]

Private schedule | Idol!Jungkook ff | jjk(m)

 idol!jungkook x idol!reader 

He had everything—global fame, relentless attention, a calendar too full to feel anything real.Then you appeared.Untouchable. Unbothered. And suddenly, the only thing he couldn’t stop thinking about.

Wc: 10k

author's note: there’s a second and final part already finished and available exclusively now on my private telegram channel (through paid subscription)

Jungkook leaned back in the shadowed corner of the studio lounge, one AirPod in, cap tugged low, hood up like armor. The others had already left, the room still humming with leftover bass from their last rehearsal. He should’ve been gone too. Shower. Dinner. Sleep. Repeat.

But the screen kept playing.

You walked out onto the stage like you owned oxygen. The lights caught you first—spilling down your legs, your collarbone, the cut of your jaw sharp enough to slice through the silence. And then you moved. Not like a trainee, not like someone new. You moved like hunger. Like the music owed you something and you were here to collect.

“Who the fuck is she?” he’d asked three days ago, eyes glued to the monitor in their dance studio.

Taehyung had just shrugged. “New girl group. Seraphim or something.”

“Seraphim?” Jungkook muttered now, tasting the word. It felt too light, too ethereal. You were no angel. You were war wrapped in sequins.

Onscreen, you spun, hair catching like wildfire, voice bruising the silence with its raw edge. You didn’t smile when you sang. Not like the others. You burned.

He adjusted the volume, thumb pausing over the playbar, then tapping back ten seconds. Again. Your voice rose, cracked just slightly on the high note. Perfect. Not polished. Real.

The performance ended, but he didn’t blink.

A low chuckle slipped out. “Fuck.”

He’d seen idols come and go, watched them debut, fade, reinvent. But you? You walked in like a warning. And somehow, he couldn’t stop waiting for the next one. The next clip. The next moment where you’d let the world tilt just slightly off its axis.

Later, in his room, the lights off, his screen lit with the blue glow of yet another fancam, he watched you laugh during an interview. Head thrown back. Nose scrunching. No media-trained giggle, no fake eye-smiles.

“So, who’s your biggest influence?” the host asked.

You paused, eyes gleaming. “I don’t know. I think I just wanted to scream loud enough to be heard.”

That was it. Jungkook sat forward like your words had grabbed him by the collar. You weren’t performing. You were surviving.

He started noticing things. The way his fingers twitched during choreo when a lyric reminded him of your song. The way your name showed up in his search bar without him typing it. The way the corner of his mouth curved when staff played your track in the hallway speakers.

“You keep watching that girl,” Namjoon said once, half-amused, half-concerned, walking past as Jungkook hit replay.

“Shut up,” Jungkook muttered, but didn’t pause it.

It wasn’t about love. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But it was about gravity. Yours pulled harder than his own, and he’d been living weightless too long.

Some nights, he closed his eyes and imagined what it would be like to meet you backstage. Not at an award show, not on camera. Just you. Barefaced. Sweaty after practice. Maybe you’d bump into him in a hallway and not even flinch.

“Do I know you?” you'd say, brushing past.

And he’d smirk, teeth catching the inside of his lip.

“No,” he’d answer. “But I know you.”

And that would be the beginning of the end.

The idea came to him around midnight, somewhere between the ache of his fourth replay of your acoustic stage and the bitter fizz of a half-empty Coke can warming on his desk.

It was getting pathetic.

You were everywhere—on his screen, in his playlists, in the tightness behind his ribs when he saw your face on digital billboards—and yet never where he could reach. No overlapping schedules. No shared rehearsals. Not even a hallway moment. It was like fate had a personal grudge.

Jungkook dragged a hand through his hair, groaning under his breath. He wasn’t seventeen anymore. He didn’t chase. He didn’t ask.

But then his eyes drifted to the notification on his phone— Jaeha 🐣: Hyung, we’re performing at the same showcase tmrw! Let's catch up after??

Jaeha. Rookie golden boy of OBSIDIAN, the boy group everyone was calling “the next big thing.” Jungkook had taken a liking to him—bright, humble, fast learner. They’d trained together once for a special stage. And more importantly… OBSIDIAN had filmed a variety show with your group last month.

He tapped out a reply.

JK: Let’s do it. Got something I need your help with anyway.

Backstage the next day, chaos reigned as stylists darted between dressing rooms and staff shouted over the thrum of sound checks. Jungkook leaned against the wall in a dark corner of the corridor, mask on, hood up, watching the clock. OBSIDIAN had just wrapped their rehearsal. Jaeha would be walking this way any minute.

Sure enough, there he was—flushed from dancing, hair tousled, laughing at something one of his members said before spotting Jungkook. His smile widened.

“Hyung!” he called, jogging over. “Didn’t expect you to actually—”

Jungkook pulled his mask down just enough to smirk. “I said I needed help.”

Jaeha’s brow furrowed, just a flicker. “Yeah? With what?”

Jungkook kept it casual, eyes flicking to the hallway behind them, making sure no one was in earshot. “You know Y/N, right? From Seraphim?”

Silence.

Jaeha blinked, once. Then laughed—tight, forced. “Uh. Yeah. We… we shot something together last month.”

“I saw,” Jungkook said. “You two seemed close.”

The younger idol rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flickering away. “We talked a bit. She's cool.”

“I want to meet her.” Jungkook didn’t bother sugarcoating it. “Not weird or anything. Just… a real introduction. Off-camera.”

Jaeha went still.

Then: “Right. Sure. I guess I could, like… bring her over after your stage or something.”

Jungkook studied him. The stiffness in his shoulders. The too-careful tone.

“You like her,” he said quietly. Not a question.

Jaeha looked away. “Doesn’t matter.”

A beat passed. The air thickened.

“It might,” Jungkook said, not unkindly. “You don’t have to do this.”

But Jaeha shook his head, already forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Nah, hyung. I got you. What are friends for, right?”

It was the kind of night that didn’t feel like work—just music and warm lights, a borrowed studio with scuffed floors and a couch that had probably seen more legends than cleanings. Someone had set up a dim corner lamp, and pizza boxes were already stacked on the table. The Bluetooth speaker hummed quietly, low-volume hip-hop threading through idle chatter.

Jungkook sat near the edge of the sofa, one leg folded beneath him, absently strumming a beat on his thigh as Jaeha laughed too loudly at something across the room.

There were only six of them. A small crowd. Familiar enough not to question the gathering, but not close enough to lower every wall. Someone had invited a producer’s younger sister. Someone else had brought beer no one was drinking. And Jaeha—Jaeha had brought you.

You slipped in behind him like moonlight through a half-open curtain. Hoodie oversized, hair tied back, makeup minimal—just enough to keep your stage face out of the room. You didn’t look like the girl Jungkook had seen strangle a live mic with her voice. You looked… normal. Which somehow made it worse.

“Oh hey,” someone said. “That’s Y/N, right? From Seraphim?”

“Yeah,” Jaeha said, too casual. “She was near the area. I told her to drop by.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything at first. Just sipped his soda and watched you do the slow scan idols do when entering a room full of half-strangers. It was instinctual: locate the exits, assess the vibes, calculate the risks. You nodded to the group, exchanged a quick hello, then lingered by the empty keyboard bench. Not hiding, not quite blending.

His name didn’t even cross your lips.

Interesting.

“Hey,” Jungkook said eventually, chin tilting just enough to acknowledge you, not claim you. “Didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

You gave him the kind of smile people wear in interviews. Polite. Noncommittal. “Neither did I.”

“I liked your last stage,” he added, voice lazy. “That stripped-down remix of ‘Velvet Bullet’—you pulled it off.”

You nodded once. “Thanks. It wasn’t my idea.”

“Still yours now,” he said, and that pulled the corner of your mouth just slightly. Not enough to call it a smile. Barely enough to count as a crack.

Jaeha returned with drinks, sliding between the two of you with practiced ease. “She’s being humble. They only picked her because the vocal coach said no one else could carry that version.”

You shot him a look. “Jaeha.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “What? It’s true.”

Jungkook watched all of it. The way your eyes cooled when Jaeha spoke for you. The subtle lean away. The tension so thin and fine you could slice it into silk ribbons.

You were cautious. Reserved. Like you’d walked into this room not quite sure why you were here—and already suspecting the answer.

A while later, when the lights dimmed and someone passed an unplugged mic around for impromptu freestyles and jokes, you stayed near the wall. Observing. Laughing once or twice. But your gaze never lingered.

And still, Jungkook kept returning to you.

“She’s not as loud as I expected,” he murmured later to Jaeha, just loud enough to be heard.

“She’s not for your expectations,” Jaeha shot back, tone sharp, then softened it with a tight-lipped smile. “But yeah. She’s quiet. Until she’s not.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “Is that from experience?”

Jaeha looked away. “You tell me, hyung.”

And just like that, the dynamic turned. Unspoken, but taut. Like a room filled with smoke but no fire—yet.

By the time the night ended, you’d said less than thirty words to Jungkook. And yet, he couldn’t stop replaying them on the ride home.

He liked puzzles.

And you? You didn’t just hide your pieces. You built new ones mid-game.

***

It wasn’t even supposed to be a real party.

A housewarming, they’d called it—casual, small, low-pressure. Just friends, someone had said in the group chat. A few drinks, some music, maybe someone would play the piano or pass out on the floor. Jungkook hadn’t planned to stay long. He’d even driven himself, a quiet promise to slip out early if the vibe felt wrong.

But the second he walked through the door and heard your laugh ring out from the kitchen—light, unfiltered, reckless in a way he'd never heard it before—he knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

You were perched on the counter, legs swinging, chopsticks in one hand, a soju cap in the other. Jaeha was beside you, grinning like he’d won the lottery just standing near you, and you were roasting him in front of the others—something about his tragic playlist and the way he fake-mourned his ex like he was scoring points for drama.

“You’re not deep,” you said, giggling between sips of cider. “You’re just bored and horny.”

The room howled with laughter. Even Jaeha laughed, cheeks pink.

Jungkook froze in the doorway, one foot still on the welcome mat.

This was not the version of you he’d met weeks ago. This wasn’t the careful, clipped idol who weighed every word like it might cost her a contract. This wasn’t the girl who sat near exits and kept her arms crossed like a shield.

No. This was something else entirely.

This was you, bare-faced and bright, hoodie slipping off one shoulder, socked feet tapping the cabinet as you licked sauce off your thumb and rolled your eyes like you owned the air. This was you, full of teeth and teasing, the magnetic pull of someone who didn’t even know she was the center of the room.

Jungkook had the sudden, irrational urge to make you laugh like that again—because of him.

“Hyung!” someone called. “Come in! There’s still beer!”

He blinked. Forced his body forward. Pasted on that easy grin he’d mastered a decade ago. But his chest felt strange. Tight, like something had turned inside him, and now he was trying not to show it.

You spotted him eventually. Your gaze swept the room and landed on him briefly—just long enough for a flicker of recognition and a small, unreadable smile. Not cool. Not cold. Not polite. Just… real.

You hopped off the counter without a word and disappeared into the other room, and Jungkook hated how disappointed he was.

Later, after someone hooked their phone up to the speakers and dimmed the lights, the makeshift living room became a dance floor. Someone passed a bowl of drinks around. Someone else lit a cinnamon-scented candle and claimed it was “for the vibe.”

And you?

You danced like no one important was watching.

Jungkook sat on the armrest of a couch, bottle in hand, too focused on pretending to listen to a story to hide that his gaze kept falling back to you. You were in the middle of the room now, hair a little messy, sweatshirt riding up as you twirled, fingers snapped to the beat. You were off-tempo and off-balance, but it didn’t matter. You didn’t care.

You laughed when someone tried to copy your moves, swatted a friend’s hat off, and spun again—completely unchoreographed. Completely alive.

God.

You were funny.

You were chaotic.

You were nothing like he’d expected. And that was the moment Jungkook knew.

He was in trouble.

Because this wasn’t about intrigue anymore. This wasn’t about fascination, or even lust. This wasn’t about you being a rising star or having a voice that haunted his dreams.

This was worse.

He liked you. Actually liked you.

Liked the way you danced without rhythm. Liked the way you teased Jaeha with merciless affection. Liked the way you rolled your eyes at compliments and threw gummy candy at people who tried to flirt.

“Hyung,” Jaeha said, sliding beside him with a red cup. “You’ve been staring at her for like ten minutes.”

Jungkook didn’t even deny it.

“She’s different here,” he murmured.

Jaeha’s jaw tightened. “Yeah. She is.”

But Jungkook wasn’t listening anymore.

Because you were laughing again—head thrown back, hands in the air like you were weightless. And all he could think was:

I want to be the reason she looks like that.

He didn’t realize he was smiling until someone nudged him.

He didn’t care.

He was already falling, and this time, it didn’t feel like a mistake.

The message comes at 1:37 a.m.

JK: You up?

You stare at the screen, thumb hovering. The dorm is quiet, lights out, a humid stillness hanging in the air. There’s no way you should say yes. You don’t know him—not really. Not the way fans do, not the way the industry whispers you should. And yet.

JK: Come for a drive.No pressure. No questions. Just music and air.

You hesitate. Then pull on your hoodie, shove your phone into the pocket, and slip past your sleeping members like a secret.

His car idles at the corner, matte-black and gleaming under the streetlight like some coiled animal. The door opens before you can knock.

You slide in. The leather is warm, the cabin smells faintly like cedar and something clean. He doesn’t look at you right away, just taps his thumb twice against the steering wheel, cueing the playlist.

Low synths and soft percussion ease into the space like breath.

“Hey,” he says after a beat, eyes on the road. His voice is quiet. Scraped raw at the edges.

You nod. “Hey.”

That’s all.

No where have you been, no you look tired. No one trying to impress or be interesting. Just the soft hum of tires over asphalt and the city lights flickering like ghosts through the windshield.

He drives without destination, weaving through the sleeping veins of Seoul, windows cracked just enough to let the night in. A breeze slips through, carrying the distant scent of rain on concrete and something floral from a street vendor long gone.

You don’t speak. Neither does he.

It should be awkward. Tense. But instead—it settles. Like water finding its shape.

It’s twenty minutes before he breaks the silence.

“I can’t sleep anymore,” he says, softly. “Not unless I’m moving.”

You turn, watching the way the passing neon draws lines along his cheekbone, the corner of his mouth.

“You mean like… driving?”

“Or flying. Or running. Anything. As long as it’s not still.” He taps the wheel again. “Too much noise in stillness.”

You nod slowly. “I get that.”

And he glances at you—just once—but it lands like lightning. He wasn’t expecting that. Understanding. No follow-up questions. No digging. Just... recognition.

The silence that returns is different now. Not empty. Full of unspoken me too.

He flicks on the right indicator, then turns down a quieter road—one that snakes along the river, where buildings fall away and the dark opens wide.

“You ever feel like you’re only real when no one’s watching?” he murmurs.

You exhale, the answer curling out of you like smoke. “Only all the time.”

Something shifts in the car. It’s subtle, unspoken, but you feel it like gravity—that click of shared loneliness, the kind that doesn’t need translation.

You look out the window again, the river glittering beside you like a secret being kept. The wind tousles your hair. The music plays on, some dreamy track you don’t recognize.

You don’t ask where you’re going.

You already know the point isn’t the destination.

It’s this. This quiet. This motion. This strange, tender night with a boy who carries the same kind of weight behind his eyes.

And for the first time in months, you feel like you’re breathing easy.

***

The rooftop door creaks open with the hush of something conspiratorial. You step through and the city unfurls beneath you—glittering and infinite, Seoul’s skyline scattered like crushed glass across black velvet.

Jungkook is already there.

He’s sitting on an old fleece blanket, legs stretched out, one hand propped behind him, head tilted back to the stars like he’s trying to memorize them. A hoodie hangs loose on his frame, sleeves pushed up. A small paper bag and two thermoses sit beside him like a picnic he tried to pretend wasn’t one.

He hears the door, doesn’t look. Just lifts his voice, low and casual.

“Didn’t think you’d come.”

You pull your hood down, walking toward him. “I didn’t think I would either.”

He turns then, and the look he gives you is brief—but it lands. Like warmth. Like welcome.

“No pressure. We can just sit. I brought snacks.” He lifts the bag. “Not bribery. Just… information well used.”

You raise an eyebrow as you settle beside him, cross-legged. “You remember what I like?”

He shrugs with a grin. “Radish kimchi, right? And the peanut crackers from the trainee vending machines. Oh—and peach soda, but only if it’s cold.” He gestures to the thermos. “Had to get creative on that one.”

Your chest tightens. It’s stupid, really. You’re used to people watching your content, memorizing your answers. But there’s something quieter, gentler, about him remembering the unrecorded details.

You take the thermos, fingers brushing his. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me,” he says, “yet. I might ask you to share.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. For real.

For a while, you just sit there, picking through snacks, trading stories.

He tells you about his first time trying to cook for the group—how he nearly set the kitchen on fire trying to flambé eggs. You laugh, genuinely, picturing him panicking in bunny slippers, flour in his hair.

You tell him about the time you fell asleep during practice and got filmed mid-snore by your leader. He nearly chokes on a rice cracker.

“You snore?” he grins.

“Once,” you protest.

“Sure.” He leans back, arms behind his head. “You’re way cooler than I expected.”

You glance at him, half amused. “You expected cool?”

“No,” he says, turning his head to face you. “I expected untouchable.”

The word lingers. You break eye contact first.

“Can I ask you something?” you say.

He nods.

“What are you afraid of?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away. His gaze returns to the stars. You think he might dodge it. Joke it off. But then:

“Disappearing,” he says. “Not from the industry. Just… from people. From their hearts. From mattering.”

You’re silent.

“I used to think love came from attention,” he continues. “From applause. Now I think it’s the quiet stuff that counts. The way someone holds space for you when you’re not trying.”

You swallow around something thick.

“My turn?” he asks.

You nod, unsure what he’ll say.

“What about you?”

You think of the silence after stages, the ache in your spine that no one notices. You think of the way your members fall asleep in vans, heads on shoulders, and how you always end up staring at the dark.

“Being misunderstood,” you say softly. “Or worse—understood, and still not chosen.”

The quiet that follows is heavy, but not uncomfortable. It’s honest.

Jungkook shifts beside you, reaches without a word, and tugs his hoodie over his head. He hands it to you, and his voice is soft.

“It’s cold.”

You hesitate. “I’m fine.”

He shrugs. “I’m not. You look cold. So wear it.”

You slip it on. It smells like detergent and something warm and woodsy. Like the inside of his car. Like him.

“Thanks,” you say, voice barely audible.

He doesn’t look at you when he replies.

“Anytime.”

And you know he means it. Not just the hoodie. The anytime. The anywhere. The you.

Something solid shifts between you. The space closes—not physically, but emotionally.

You’re not just sitting on a rooftop with Jungkook-the-idol anymore. You’re here with Jungkook.

And for the first time in a long, long time, you think maybe you don’t have to be alone.

***

The building was mostly dark by the time you arrived, its heavy doors locked to the world, save for one back entrance Jungkook had somehow charmed access to.

The studio itself was stripped bare—no lights, no lenses, no stylists fluttering like moths to a flame. Just an echoing space that smelled faintly of sawdust and lavender detergent, with one soft lamp glowing in the corner like a moon.

You paused in the doorway, your shoes catching on the edge of the mat.

In the middle of the room, laid out neatly over the polished floor, was a thick, quilted blanket, two cushions, and three takeout bags still steaming, their paper tops folded with care. There was music playing—low, jazzy, something instrumental with slow piano and sleepy brass.

Jungkook stood near the far wall, pulling off his jacket, sleeves rolled up, eyes already on you when you looked up.

“You came,” he said, like it wasn’t the third time this week.

You toed off your sneakers. “You keep inviting me.”

“Guess I’m hoping that if I do it enough, you’ll stop being surprised.”

You walked toward the blanket, letting your gaze wander. The food smelled familiar—shockingly so. Your favorite noodle soup, the side dish you always ordered from that one place in Hongdae, and—your brows lifted—cherry rice cakes. The kind they stopped selling months ago.

“Where did you get these?” you asked, sitting down.

His grin curved soft and a little proud. “I have a friend who owes me favors.”

You picked up a rice cake, turning it in your fingers before glancing up. “You really remembered everything.”

“Of course I did,” he said. “You notice things when you care.”

The words landed lightly. But something about them thudded in your chest.

You ate in silence for a while, comfortably tucked side by side on the floor, passing containers back and forth. His knees brushed yours once, then twice, and didn’t move away. When you spilled sauce on your sleeve, he handed you a napkin without a word.

When he accidentally dropped a dumpling, you laughed, full-bodied, and he looked at you like he’d waited a lifetime to hear it again.

“Do you ever wonder how long this lasts?” you asked suddenly, surprising even yourself.

He turned his head toward you. “This?”

“Fame. Attention. Relevance.”

Jungkook leaned back on one hand, the other cradling his bowl. “Every day. But I try not to live there. Doesn’t change anything but your anxiety.”

You studied him. “You’re so good at sounding like you’ve figured it out.”

“I’m good at sounding,” he said. “Not always at believing.”

He glanced at you, something quieter in his expression now.

“I think I just want to be seen. Not… watched. Not managed. Just seen.”

You let the words settle between you.

“I get that,” you said finally. “Sometimes I feel like no one’s really looking at me. They’re just looking at the version they need.”

Jungkook tilted his head. “And who are you, then?”

You smiled, small and careful. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

Later, you were lying side by side on the blanket, your shoulders barely touching, legs curled toward each other in a kind of lazy symmetry. The food had been pushed aside. The lamp threw long shadows across the floor.

He told you about the time he almost quit—how he’d stood on the balcony of a hotel in Tokyo and wondered what life would feel like if he just disappeared. Not died. Just stopped.

You didn’t speak. Just reached out slowly, fingertips brushing his knuckles.

“Why didn’t you?” you asked.

His throat worked around the answer. “I remembered that kid who auditioned barefoot. Who shook all the way through his first dance lesson. I didn’t want to abandon him.”

You blinked against the sting in your eyes.

“You don’t have to be scared of me,” he said quietly.

It wasn’t a pickup line. It wasn’t flirtation. It was safety, offered in the softest tone.

But it hit you like thunder.

“I am scared,” you whispered. “Not of you. Just… what it means to let someone see me. What happens when they do and decide I’m not what they thought.”

He turned onto his side, facing you fully.

“Then they’re idiots,” he said simply. “And you’re better off.”

You looked at him. Really looked. The sweep of his lashes. The curve of his lips. The faint scar above his eyebrow.

And just like that—something tipped.

The distance you’d kept so carefully began to vanish. Not with a kiss. Not with a confession. Just with a shared breath. A soft silence. A trust you didn’t expect to feel so soon.

You reached for another rice cake, half-smiling.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you murmured. “I’m still deciding if I like you.”

He grinned, wide and wicked. “Take your time. I’m very charming.”

And you were already starting to believe him.

***

The sky breaks open without warning.

One minute you’re walking through a quiet side street, shoulder to shoulder with Jungkook after grabbing late-night snacks from a convenience store, your laughter echoing off brick walls as you argue about the superiority of shrimp chips versus honey butter. The next—crack, boom, whoosh—rain slashes down in thick, merciless sheets.

You both freeze mid-step, blinking up as the first drops smack your faces. Then Jungkook curses under his breath, grabs your wrist, and pulls you toward the nearest shelter.

It’s a rundown bus stop with a rusted roof and crooked bench, empty save for a torn-up ad for a language app and a crushed soda can someone never threw away. The metal covering barely holds back the downpour, but it’s enough. You duck under it, breathless, soaked to the bone in seconds.

Jungkook’s hair clings to his forehead, his white T-shirt nearly transparent now. He’s laughing. Really laughing. That deep, contagious sound that starts in his chest and crinkles the corners of his eyes.

“You look like a raccoon,” he says, shaking water from his bangs.

You shove his arm. “Says the guy whose shirt just declared war on modesty.”

He grins wider, then squints at you through the rain. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Because it’s chaotic,” you say, wiping water from your cheeks. “I love chaos.”

He watches you then—really watches you—soaked hoodie, flushed cheeks, eyes lit with something wild. You’re not composed. Not styled. Not protected by lighting or wardrobe or PR. You’re you. Messy, drenched, laughing—and somehow more luminous than you’ve ever been.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he says softly.

You blink, your breath catching slightly. “Like what?”

“Unfiltered,” he replies. “Like no one’s watching.”

The air shifts. Not cold, but charged, the kind of quiet that exists right before something gives in. You swallow hard. The rain’s still coming down, thunder grumbling far above, but your focus is tight—locked in on him, on how close he suddenly feels.

You step forward, slowly, until there’s barely a sliver of space between you.

“This feels dangerous,” you whisper.

He doesn’t move away.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think I can keep pretending this isn’t something.”

His breath catches. He looks at you like you’re saying everything he’s been holding back.

And still—he doesn’t kiss you.

Instead, he lifts a hand, touches your hair, wet and clinging to your cheek. His thumb brushes it aside, fingers tracing the edge of your jaw so lightly it almost doesn’t feel real. Then he cradles your face, like the whole world’s gone still around this one fragile thing.

You lean into his palm before you realize it. Eyes fluttering shut. Just for a second.

And when you open them, he’s there. Right there.

Not kissing you. Not crossing the line. But waiting.

Your chest is tight. The yearning is no longer curiosity, no longer new—it’s anchored. It hurts, in the way only things that matter do.

“We’re not ready for this,” you say, barely a breath.

“I know.” His voice is hoarse. “But I don’t think I can stop wanting it.”

You’re both soaked and shaking under a bus stop at the edge of the city, and somehow it feels like the most honest place you’ve ever been.

You don’t speak again. Just sit on the bench beside him, thigh to thigh, hands close but not touching, the sound of rain drowning everything but the thrum in your chest.

And that’s the moment it truly shifts.

Whatever this is, it’s not a game anymore. It’s not light. It’s not passing. It’s real. And it’s already too late to walk away.

***

The room is humming with leftover adrenaline.

Outside the dressing room, you can still hear the muffled chaos of staff shouting, heels clacking, someone’s ringtone going off again and again. The afterglow of a live show always lingers like static in the air—sweaty, electric, a little surreal.

Jungkook closes the door behind you with a soft click.

It’s not just the two of you in theory. It’s the two of you in reality now—tangled in the moment you’ve both been skating toward for weeks.

He leans against the door, chest rising and falling beneath his all-black outfit, strands of damp hair stuck to his forehead. His in-ears hang around his neck like dog tags, and there’s still smudged eyeliner beneath his eyes, like war paint no one bothered to wash away.

You don’t know why you followed him in here. You just did. Your legs moved before your brain caught up.

Now the silence feels alive, pulsing between you.

He watches you like you’re a song he doesn’t dare press play on. And you stand there, fists curled slightly, still wearing your mic pack, your lip gloss smudged from the water bottle you grabbed backstage.

“You were insane out there,” he says. His voice is lower than usual—raw.

“You too,” you reply, barely above a whisper.

He steps closer.

Slow. Deliberate.

“You keep doing that,” he murmurs.

You blink. “Doing what?”

“Looking at me like I’m not real.”

You laugh under your breath, eyes falling to the floor. “You don’t feel real most of the time.”

He’s in front of you now. Close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his skin, smell the faint trace of vanilla and sweat clinging to his collar.

“But this is real,” he says, lifting his hand, not quite touching your cheek yet. “Isn’t it?”

You nod, slowly.

That’s when he touches you.

Not urgently. Not with lust. Just his fingertips against your jaw, feather-light, tilting your face up so your eyes meet his. He’s searching your face like he’s memorizing it. Every eyelash. Every unspoken yes.

You don’t pull away. You don’t breathe.

“Tell me to stop,” he says, eyes flicking to your mouth.

You don’t.

He leans in. And kisses you.

Softly.

At first.

It’s the kind of kiss that feels like exhaling after holding your breath for too long. The kind that doesn’t ask for anything—just offers.

But when your hands slide up his chest, and you step into him like you can’t stand the space anymore, it changes.

The kiss deepens—urgently, hungrily, like weeks of tension just snapped at the seams. He tastes like sweat and soda and something undeniably him. His hands cradle your waist, then your face, then the back of your neck like he can’t decide where to touch you first.

You gasp a little when he pulls you tighter, and he swallows the sound like a secret.

This isn’t sweet. This is inevitable.

When you finally break apart, it’s not with regret. It’s with breathless silence and wide eyes and foreheads pressed together in the dark.

You laugh, a little dizzy. “Took you long enough.”

He smiles, thumb brushing your cheekbone. “You think that was slow? You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting.”

You rest your head against his shoulder, heart pounding through your ribs, and suddenly—everything feels simpler.

There are still a thousand things unsaid. Still rules. Risks. Consequences.

But for now, in this tiny dressing room, after the noise and the lights and the pretending— You have him. He has you.

And for the first time, you don’t feel alone in it.

***

The room pulses with something soft and golden—music threaded low through the speakers, the bass thumping like a second heartbeat beneath the floor. Fairy lights hang limp along the ceiling, tangled with paper lanterns and leftover streamers from someone’s birthday three weeks ago.

It’s the kind of party no one planned. Just a half-spontaneous gathering of familiar faces, mutual friends, and people who know how to pretend they’re not watching each other.

You sit perched on the arm of a sofa, one foot tucked beneath the other, nursing a half-finished drink as someone passes a bottle of soju around like a crown. Laughter spills from the kitchen. A game of cards crashes somewhere behind you.

And across the room, Jungkook is watching you.

He hasn’t stopped. Not since you arrived.

He’s wearing all black again—oversized tee, chain at his neck, rings catching the light when he lifts his drink. His hair’s a little messy, lips curved at the corners from a joke someone told, but his eyes aren’t really smiling. They’re focused. Heavy.

Every time your gaze flickers to his—he’s there. Not pushing. Just waiting.

You laugh at something you don’t hear. Pull your hoodie sleeves down over your wrists. Feel the flush creeping up your throat that has nothing to do with alcohol.

Someone next to you nudges your arm. “You always vanish when Jungkook does.”

You blink. Turn toward them. “What?”

A few heads turn. Smirks follow.

“Seriously,” a girl across the room adds, swirling her drink. “It’s like—boom, both gone. Like clockwork.”

You open your mouth to say something—anything—but Jungkook’s already pushing off the wall. The smile on his face doesn’t reach his eyes.

Jaeha watches it all from the kitchen doorway, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his cargo jacket. His jaw’s tight. His mouth doesn’t move, but his stare lands hard. He hasn’t said much all night. He hasn’t had to.

Jungkook doesn’t look at him. Not once.

He just moves.

Across the room. Around the bodies. Through the low light and lazy shadows until he’s there, right in front of you, close enough that his presence drowns out everything else.

You tilt your head up, not breathing. His hand brushes your forearm, fingers grazing barely-there. You can smell the faint cologne he always wears, sweet and woodsy, like a memory you haven��t named yet.

He leans in.

His lips don’t touch your skin, but his breath grazes your ear when he whispers, voice smooth and low and intentional:

“Come with me.”

You don’t answer right away.

You don’t have to.

He steps back, just a little, and your eyes meet his in the dark—the room around you blurring, the noise dimming, the world narrowing down to just this.

Just him.

Just yes.

And your legs are already moving.

The silence between you in the car is so thick it starts to feel like a third presence, one neither of you dares to acknowledge. It sits heavy in the air, woven through each shallow breath and every twitch of your fingers against your thigh.

Jungkook drives like he always does—one hand firm on the wheel, eyes focused on the road ahead, the sharp line of his jaw flexing every now and then like he’s chewing down a thought he’s not ready to voice. There’s no music playing tonight, no soft hum to fill the space. Just the quiet hum of the engine, the occasional sigh of tires against wet asphalt, and the rhythmic click of turn signals blinking through the hush.

Your eyes flick toward him—twice, maybe three times. Not to study, not to search, but to feel something solid in a moment that’s unraveling at the edges. The sight of him, rigid and unsmiling, jaw set like he’s clenching back everything he hasn’t said since the party, grounds you in a way that only makes things worse.

You shift slightly in your seat, thighs pressing together, toes curling inside your sneakers as the nerves crawl beneath your skin. You can feel your pulse in your throat, in your wrists, in your tongue. It’s too quiet to pretend it’s not happening—this tension, this ache, this near-violent awareness of him.

And then, at the longest red light in the city, it happens.

He glances at you. Quick. Sharp. Like a magnet being pulled too close.

Your eyes meet in the stillness, and the look that passes between you doesn’t need translation. It holds no playfulness, no invitation, no smirk. Just heat. And caution. And something that feels a little too much like longing.

He looks away first. But the air doesn’t return to normal.

The light turns green. The world continues. But you don’t feel like it does.

By the time the car glides into the parking garage beneath his building, your breath is shallow and your throat is dry. He parks with precision—calm hands, familiar movement—like everything inside him hasn’t been fraying from the inside out since the moment he touched your arm hours ago and asked you to come with him.

The engine dies, and the silence that replaces it is impossibly louder.

Neither of you moves right away. Neither of you breathes too deeply.

Then, quietly, Jungkook opens his door and steps out. He circles the car without speaking, the soles of his shoes echoing softly in the empty garage. When he reaches your side, he doesn’t just wait—he opens the door. Stands there. Looks at you.

And that’s when you hear him.

Not loud. Not bold. Just barely above the hush that fills the space.

“You can still say no.”

His voice is steady, but there’s something underneath it—something careful, something restrained. Like he’s holding the door open not just to the car, but to a choice he refuses to take away from you. His shoulders are tense, and he doesn’t smile this time. He doesn’t reach. He doesn’t coax.

He simply waits.

And it’s that—the restraint—that undoes you.

Because you could say no. You could laugh this off, slide past him, head home and bury this night in the vault where all dangerous things go.

But instead, you shift forward. You let your foot touch the ground. You rise slowly, meeting his gaze the whole way.

You don’t answer aloud. You don’t have to.

The way your shoulder brushes his as you pass him says enough.

The way he exhales quietly behind you—like he’s been holding his breath since he first whispered those words—says even more.

You follow him through the quiet lobby, neither of you saying a word, but every step you take together echoing like a promise waiting to be made.

The door clicks shut behind you with a sound that feels far too loud in the stillness that follows.

His apartment is dark, save for the low golden wash of a lamp glowing near the window, its light catching on matte black picture frames and the edge of a glass table. The space is sleek but lived-in—soft shadows, clean lines, everything in its place. There’s a scent in the air you recognize now, something warm and low—cedarwood, vanilla, and the quiet echo of his cologne clinging to the fibers of the couch.

You step out of your shoes and pause just inside the hallway, heart beating a little too loud, fingers curling loosely at your sides as he moves past you. He doesn’t turn on more lights. He doesn’t ask if you want tea, or water, or time.

He doesn’t ask anything at all.

He just turns. Slowly. And walks toward you.

There’s no hesitation in his steps now, no shy glances or tentative pacing. Only silence, only the sharp pull of something that’s been held back far too long, stretching thinner and thinner each time your eyes met across dim rooms, each time your fingers brushed then pulled away.

When he reaches you, he doesn’t speak. He just cups your face with both hands—firm, trembling slightly, as though he's not sure where the urgency ends and the desperation begins. And then he kisses you.

Hard.

Deep.

Like every second you weren’t touching him before this was a wound that finally needed closing.

Your hands reach for him instantly—fisting into the hem of his hoodie, dragging him closer until there’s no space left. The kiss is unpolished, breathless, teeth knocking slightly before it melts into something slower, then fast again, like neither of you can decide whether to savor it or devour.

Your back hits the wall. Then he breaks the kiss just long enough to tilt your jaw up with his thumb and meet your eyes, his pupils blown wide, his breath unsteady against your mouth. And then he’s kissing you again—lower this time, his lips dragging down your throat as you arch into him, head tipped back, mouth parting on a gasp.

You laugh for a second, half-drunk on the heat of it, tugging at the fabric clinging to his chest.

It dies quickly. Becomes a sound that’s softer. Needier.

He lifts you without effort, gripping your thighs, and you cling to his shoulders as he carries you through the open space, past the dining table, straight to the kitchen.

He sets you down on the counter like he’s done it before in his mind. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, holding him there, hips tight against his. Fingers roam under clothing—gripping, dragging, claiming—until you’re both breathless and tangled, and his hoodie is half off and your shirt’s already forgotten somewhere on the floor.

His mouth finds your collarbone, your shoulder, the place just beneath your ear that makes your spine curl—and it’s too much. And not nearly enough.

And then—buzz.

The first vibration is subtle.

Then another. And another.

His phone lights up against the marble counter near the sink—flashes of blue and white casting shadows across his cheekbones.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Text. Call. Notification. Again and again. Like the world is pounding at the door, demanding to be let back in.

You freeze—not fully, but enough. Enough that he feels it.

Your breath catches against his mouth.

His hands still.

And then he pulls back—just slightly—forehead resting against yours, fingers slipping up to your jaw again, grounding you.

He doesn’t look at the phone.

He doesn’t even glance.

His voice comes out quiet, rough, like the words have been scraped raw before they ever made it to his mouth.

“Nothing matters but you tonight.”

A pause. A breath. His eyes meet yours again, and they’re darker than you’ve ever seen them.

“I need this,” he whispers. “I need you.”

You don’t say anything. You don’t move.

You just let it wash over you—the weight of it, the truth of it, the way his words settle in your chest like a secret only the two of you are allowed to carry.

Time doesn’t move in a straight line after that.

It melts, curls, loops back in on itself as mouths find skin, as hands forget hesitation. The world becomes narrowed to this apartment, this couch, this night where nothing is held back anymore.

Your knees straddle him on the cushions, thighs pressing into his hips as he sinks back, one hand on your lower back and the other tangled in your hair, grounding himself like he’s terrified he’ll wake up and none of this will be real. His hoodie is long gone, and your shirt was dropped halfway across the floor. Now it’s just heat and skin and the wild, unspoken pull of everything that’s been building between you for months.

The kiss deepens—slower now, but heavier too. Like you’re both drinking from something bottomless. His lips trail from your mouth to your jaw, down the length of your throat, pausing just long enough to taste the salt at your collarbone. When you arch forward, he groans low in his chest and wraps both arms around you, burying his face in the space between your breasts like he needs to catch his breath.

Then—his mouth moves lower.

There’s nothing hurried about it. No teasing, no distance. Just reverence.

He takes one nipple in his mouth and sucks gently, lips warm and wet, tongue circling until your breath catches and your hips grind down involuntarily against him. One of his hands moves up your spine, steady and slow, while the other dips lower—past your waistband, past caution, until his fingers slide between your thighs and find you already aching.

You gasp. His name stutters out of you. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t even smirk. He just kisses your chest again, again, until your breath turns ragged and your fingers claw into his shoulders.

“Lie back,” he murmurs, voice husky, cracking at the edges.

You do.

He kneels between your legs on the floor, pushes your thighs apart, and lowers himself like it’s instinct—like he’s worshipped you in dreams before and now, finally, he gets to do it with hands and mouth and breath.

When his tongue finds you, you shudder—every part of you splintering open.

He’s slow at first. Focused. His hands firm around your hips to hold you steady as he learns what makes your thighs tremble and your hands grasp the cushion behind your head. You moan his name, sharp and breathless, and he groans into you like he’s the one falling apart.

When you reach for him, desperate, he rises, mouth glistening, pupils blown wide.

He kisses your stomach like it’s sacred, slow and deliberate, as if each inch of skin he touches is being committed to memory, mapped out so he’ll never lose it. You’re laid out before him on the couch, limbs loose, spine arched just slightly, and every part of you is trembling with the anticipation of what’s next.

His hands don’t rush. They move with care, reverence, as though he’s waited too long to ruin it with haste.

You feel his fingers first—just his fingertips—brushing up the inside of your thigh, tracing invisible patterns along your skin, dragging goosebumps in their wake. He doesn’t go straight for it. No. Jungkook studies your body like it’s asking him questions he doesn’t want to answer too soon. He wants to learn—every shift of your hips, every catch in your breath, every place you melt under touch.

When he finally reaches you—truly touches you—you exhale like you’ve been holding your breath since the moment you stepped into his apartment.

His fingers glide through your wetness with a kind of quiet wonder, like he already knew you’d be this ready for him but still can’t quite believe it.

“Fuck,” he whispers, voice cracking with awe. “You’re so wet for me.”

You can’t even speak—just nod, back pressing deeper into the couch, thighs parting further without conscious thought.

He draws slow circles around your clit first, barely-there pressure, testing, coaxing, watching. He watches everything—your face, the way your lips part, the way your eyes flutter shut when he gets the rhythm right.

When he slides one finger into you, your mouth falls open on a gasp.

It’s not just the stretch—it’s the deliberateness. The control. The way he curls it slightly, searching until he finds the spot that makes your breath stutter.

And then he finds it.

He adds a second finger, and your body reacts before your mind catches up. Your hips roll toward his hand, chasing friction, chasing more. He lets you. He gives it. He curls and pumps, mouth parted slightly as he watches you lose composure, his thumb catching your clit in slow, deliberate strokes that build and build and build.

“You like that?” he murmurs, so quiet you almost don’t hear it. “The way I touch you?”

Your voice is a broken whisper. “Yes—God, yes—don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t. He won’t. Not until he’s pulled every breathless sound out of you. Not until your thighs shake and your nails grip the couch cushion in desperation.

“Look at me,” he says softly, fingers still deep inside you. “I want to see your eyes when you come.”

You do.

And when you come—slow, then sharp, then completely undone—it’s not a scream. It’s not a performance. It’s a raw, breathtaking surrender. His name on your tongue. Your body clenched tight around his hand. Your chest rising and falling like you just survived something you didn’t want to be saved from.

He doesn’t pull away right away. Just slows his movements, eases you down, until you’re shaking and boneless beneath him.

Your body is still trembling when he lifts his head, and the look in his eyes when he rises between your legs is unlike anything you’ve seen in him before—nothing cocky, nothing proud. Just reverence. Pure, breathless reverence, like he’s seeing you naked for the first time, not in skin, but in something far more dangerous.

His hands trail up your sides as he kisses a slow path back up your body—your inner thighs, your hip, your stomach, the valley between your ribs. You feel his heartbeat in every press of his mouth, unsteady and urgent, like it’s racing to catch up to something that’s already been decided.

When he kisses you again—finally, finally—it’s not rushed or ravenous. It’s full of all the things he hasn’t said. It’s the kind of kiss you fall into and forget where you are.

He lines himself up against you with one hand, the other cradling your jaw, thumb stroking the edge of your cheek like he’s still asking, even if you’ve already answered.

You open your legs wider for him, one hand curling around the back of his neck, and whisper something too soft to hear—his name, maybe. A breath. A plea. An invitation.

He pushes in slow.

And your eyes lock.

The stretch is slow, molten, real—your body molding around him inch by inch, and he groans low in his throat like he’s trying not to fall apart too fast. His forehead presses to yours. Your hands clutch at his shoulder blades. Neither of you speak.

And when he’s fully inside you, buried deep, he doesn’t move. Not yet. He just holds you there, body to body, heart to heart, like he’s afraid movement might ruin it.

His lips brush your ear, his breath shaky.

“I don’t want this to end,” he murmurs.

You wrap your arms tighter around him, voice barely a whisper. “Then don’t stop.”

When he begins to move, it’s slow at first—long, deep thrusts that have you gasping into the crook of his neck, your nails dragging soft crescents into his back. He moans your name into your shoulder, the sound rough, reverent, almost broken. Every roll of his hips feels like a confession, every snap forward a prayer.

It’s not hard or fast or frantic. It’s close.

His hand finds yours, fingers lacing tight, and he presses it to his chest, right over his heart—just like before. Only this time, it’s not symbolic. It’s everything.

“I need you to feel this,” he breathes. “All of it. I don’t care how messy this gets. I just need you to know—this is real.”

You nod, because you feel it. Every inch. Every word.

Your body arches into his. The rhythm deepens. Your name spills from his mouth again, and again, and again like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

And when it happens—when the peak rises so fast it steals your breath—you look at him.

Your eyes meet in that final moment, and you see each other.

Really see.

You come with a cry that’s not just pleasure but release—months of tension snapping loose in your core, his name caught on your lips. Your thighs tighten around his hips, and your body locks down around him so hard you feel him shake.

He follows seconds later, buried deep, mouth falling open in a groan that’s equal parts worship and surrender. His hands grip you tight—your hips, your waist, your face—like he’s anchoring himself in you.

You ride the waves together, slow, breathless, trembling.

And when it’s done—when he collapses onto you, still inside you, both of you slick with sweat and flushed and shaking—you don’t pull away.

You just hold him. And he holds you.

Not as something temporary. Not as a secret. But as something neither of you can walk away from now.

The silence that follows is the kind that only comes after storms—heavy with what’s just passed, but somehow still tender, like the world knows better than to interrupt what’s just been broken open.

You lie curled into him, legs tangled beneath the sheets, the damp warmth of his body pressed close to your back. His arm is a weight around your waist, heavy and unmoving, like if he lets go, the room might vanish. The sweat on your skin has cooled, leaving behind a sheen that catches faint light spilling in from the hallway. The air is still, but charged in a different way now—after.

On the nightstand, his phone lies face-down. Silent. Still. But you remember the buzz. The rapid flurry of messages that lit up like warning signals right in the middle of your undoing. You hadn’t asked then. You didn’t stop.

But you haven’t forgotten either.

And now, in this quiet moment, in the dark softness of his bed, you wonder.

You wonder who was calling. You wonder what couldn’t wait. And why he let it.

Your fingers twitch against the sheet.

But then—his breath ghosts across your shoulder. Slow. Warm. Steady.

He shifts closer behind you, the edge of his nose brushing your neck, his chest pressed to the curve of your spine like he needs the reassurance of your body to anchor him.

Then, in that liminal space just before sleep swallows him whole, you feel his voice more than hear it.

Low. Barely-there. A secret meant for no one else.

“I don’t want to wake up without you.”

Your eyes close. And your throat tightens.

Because it sounds like a dream. Because it feels like a promise.

You can’t sleep.

The room is too still, too quiet, too heavy. His breath against your neck once felt grounding. Now it feels like a weight you didn’t agree to carry.

Jungkook is fast asleep, arm slung across your waist, mouth slightly parted, skin flushed from the heat of everything that happened. He looks peaceful. Untouched. Innocent.

But your mind won’t stop spinning. Not after those vibrations. Not after the way his phone lit up and lit up and lit upwhile you gave him your body like it meant something.

Careful not to wake him, you shift.

His arm slips away easily, his body warm and still behind you. The hardwood floor chills your feet as you rise, bare legs brushing cold air, heart racing for reasons you haven’t said out loud yet.

You spot it on the nightstand.

The phone.

Face-down. Silent now. But you remember the chaos it held before.

You pick it up. Your hands shake.

The screen unlocks too easily. No password. Just trust—or maybe arrogance.

And there it is.

The first message you see. The one that splits you clean down the middle.

Jaeha: So you fucked her already? Guess you win the bet, bro. Congratulations.

Your breath stops.

Everything else disappears.

The walls fade. The bed. The lamp. The softness of the sheets. The warmth still lingering on your skin. All of it turns to ash.

You scroll up—searching for context, for a lie, for a reason, for anything that might undo what you just saw.

But it’s all there.

Clear. Cruel.

And it wasn’t just a fuck. It wasn’t just sex. You know what it was—you felt it, the way he touched you, the way he held your hand to his chest like it meant something. You believed him.

And now— It’s not just betrayal. It’s humiliation.

Your knees lock. Your lungs collapse. Your hands tremble around the phone like it might catch fire.

Behind you, the bed creaks softly.

He stirs.

“Mm—what time is it?” His voice is rough, dazed, still half-asleep. “Babe?”

You don’t answer.

You’re standing there, frozen, phone clutched to your chest like it’s the weapon that killed you.

He pushes himself up on one elbow, squinting through the dark.

“Y/N?”

Then he sees your face.

The color drains from his.

Your mouth opens—but nothing comes. Your voice is buried beneath the shock, the ache.

“Hey,” he says, softly now, rising, confused. “What’s wrong? What—what happened?”

Your eyes flick to his. Red-rimmed. Wet.

You look at him—at the boy who held your face like it meant something, who whispered I need you like a promise— and your voice finally breaks, quiet and shaking as the phone slips from your hand and lands between you both like a loaded gun.

“Was I ever real to you, or just the prize?”

.

.

there’s a second and final part already finished and available exclusively now on my private telegram channel (through paid subscription)

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Fake Out -Oneshot

Word count: 3221

Y/N kept having to take deep, calming breaths as she kept her arm wrapped around Bucky’s waist and his arm around her shoulders.  She wasn’t sure how she got roped into this mission, playing a couple at a gala to find the information center hidden somewhere in the old mansion and download the plans to a big operation that the Avengers had been following for months.  This was their last shot at getting them, so it was imperative that she and Bucky find the computer room and get it all on a hard drive.  Though why it had to be her under his arm, she didn’t know.

It wasn’t that she hated Bucky, and she didn’t think he hated her, it was just that he was indifferent and bordering on rude to her most of the time.  She wasn’t sure if he even realized he was being rude, but she usually kept her distance either way.  Which was unfortunate because she enjoyed working with the Avengers as a spy, and had made friends with all of them.  Except for Bucky.

He was playing the part pretty well, keeping her close, squeezing her arm and periodically reaching down to squeeze her waist or hip, kissing her cheek or keeping his hand at her lower back as he led her through the crowd.  It was probably the first time he’d ever actually smiled at her in a way that didn’t look like a grimace.  She only hoped that her surprise every time he did those things wasn’t too evident on her face.

Finally about two hours into the gala he pulled her to the edge of the dance floor, leaned down and whispered in her ear as he wrapped her in his arms.  “Ready?” he asked, his hot breath on her ear making her shiver.

She nodded and squeezed his arms.  “Let’s go,” she whispered back.

Bucky pulled away but then surprised her again as his flesh hand held her by the back of the head and he kissed her.  Y/N froze, her hands squeezing his arms again even tighter, but after a moment she let out a shaky breath through her nose and her eyes fluttered closed.  She angled her head and deepened the kiss with him.  She knew that this was part of the cover, to sell the fact that they were a couple who could barely keep their hands off of each other to sneak off to a more private area.  But she let herself indulge in it.  Bucky was a handsome man, and even though he’d been less than friendly, she hadn’t been kissed in a long time, so she enjoyed it while she could.

Bucky moaned but then seemed to stop himself, his lips tightening against hers for a moment before he started pulling her back towards the hallway.  She made out with him, following his lead as his hands roamed her body, the kisses becoming more lewd by the second.  She lost track of time or where they were, letting Bucky take her where they needed to go.  Once he’d closed a door behind them he pushed her against the wall and broke the kiss, gasping for air.

“Fuck,” he breathed, licking his lips and swallowing harshly.  His hands moved to the wall behind her, keeping himself off of her as he shut his eyes tight and his hips pulled away from her.  “Go download the info while I keep watch.”

Y/N blinked at him stupidly, then blushed when she remembered the whole point of their mission.  She looked around and realized they were in the computer room.  She huffed and ducked under his arm, walking over to what looked like the main computer.  The security cameras would have already been turned off by the electric pulses she set up earlier in the evening, so she didn’t feel the need to be sneaky as she got it going and stuck the hard drive into the USB port.  She tried to calm her thundering heart as she typed away on the computer until the hard drive kicked in and started downloading everything.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Bucky standing up straight after a moment and keeping his head cocked toward the door to listen for anyone coming.  She refused to look at him, not wanting to get distracted again.  A few minutes later as the download was almost complete Bucky suddenly walked fast toward her.  “Someone’s coming,” he whispered loudly.

Y/N cursed.  “It’s not done yet,” she whispered back.

Bucky frowned as his eyes shot to the computer then back towards the door.  She could hear whoever it was coming closer then got a crazy idea.  “Come here,” she said, and pulled him toward an empty part of the desk the computer was on.

“What are you do–oh,” Bucky nearly choked on his words as she hoisted herself on the desk and rucked up her dress, exposing her underwear to him.  She then started undoing his belt and pants, pushing the dress pants down just enough before she grabbed his tie and pulled him down on top of her as she laid back, his hips flush against her hips as she hooked her legs behind him.  She kissed him again, and just as the sounds of voices and footsteps got close to the door outside she let out a loud, pornographic moan against his mouth.

Bucky stiffened against her, pulling away from the kiss and staring at her with wide eyes.  The voices outside the door stopped and she waited a moment before giving Bucky a meaningful glare that screamed, “Play along,” and then said in the most seductive voice she could muster, “Oh…yes baby!”

He blushed but nodded as they heard a chuckle beyond the door.  He glanced at the door and then started to hump his hips against her to make it look like they were having sex.  He let out a deep grunt and she nodded encouragingly, letting out more whimpers and repeated “uh, uh, uh” sounds at his thrusts.  She heard another exchange of voices outside the door and inwardly rolled her eyes.  Sick fucks, she thought as she looked at the computer screen.  Finally the download finished, and she swiftly ripped the hard drive out of the USB port and exited the screen to hide their tracks.  She slid the hard drive into Bucky’s breast pocket then kissed him again just as the door knob started to rattle.

“Fuck me!” she cried out against Bucky’s mouth as the door swung open.  She let out a loud gasp, pretending to cover herself up as Bucky shot up and turned away while looking back at the security guards.

“Do you mind?!” he shouted at them, fixing his pants and covering Y/N partially with his body.  “What the fuck?”

“Sorry to interrupt you lovebirds, but you can’t be back here,” one of the guards said sternly.  “This area is off limits.”

Y/N quickly sat up and got off the desk, fixing her dress and looking at them with a sheepish grin.  “I’m so sorry,” she giggled breathlessly.  “We just…nevermind,” she said, grabbing Bucky’s wrist and pulling him toward the door, skirting past them as fast as she could.  “Excuse us,” she laughed nervously and ducked her head in shame as she walked out of the computer room and back down the hallway towards the main ballroom.

Bucky eventually put his arm back around her shoulder, keeping her close as they walked out of the mansion and towards the valet, who quickly brought their car around.  They got in and sped off towards the safe house, making sure no one was following them for a long while before Y/N relaxed against the seat, letting out a long breath.  She pulled out her phone and texted Sam back at the Avengers Compound.

Information secured.  Headed to safe house tonight then home tomorrow.  

She waited a moment then saw the three dots pop up.

Great job.  See you then.

Y/N bid him goodnight then put her phone away and looked out the window.  As they drove, the events of the evening seemed to settle between her and Bucky like an ominous cloud, rife with tension and awkwardness.  She wasn’t sure how to broach the subject, or even if it was worth commenting on it.  It was just part of the mission, a cover to get what they needed, it didn’t mean anything.  She’d had to do compromising things on other missions before with previous partners, so why did this one feel so…different?  Bucky didn’t say anything, so she let it go for the time being.  All she wanted at the moment with a good shower and a warm bed

They reached the safe house half an hour later.  Bucky did a sweep of the house before she entered, and as they walked to the back rooms they both froze at the predicament laid before them.  There was only one bedroom.  Only one bed.  Bucky let out a gruff, sharp breath.  “I can take the couch,” he said quietly.

“I can take it,” Y/N said, shaking her head at him.  “It’s fine.  You’re too big for it anyway.”

“I’m not gonna make a lady sleep on the couch while I’m in the bed,” Bucky frowned.  

They both frowned at each other for a moment before she sighed.  “We’re adults, Buck, we can share the bed.”  His frown disappeared as he blinked.  “I just want to shower and sleep,” she said.  

He stared at her with an unreadable expression for another moment before nodding.  “Okay,” he said simply.

They settled into a routine as she showered and got ready for bed first, then Bucky went in after her.  By the time he finished she was laying in the bed, facing away from him with her eyes closed.  She could feel the awkwardness set in again as his footsteps moved around the room, then eventually he turned off the lamp on his side of the bed and shuffled under the covers with her.  He was at the other edge of the bed, the space between them like a fragile chasm that they were too afraid to breach even in the name of comfort.  He sighed heavily.  “Goodnight,” he breathed.

“G’night,” Y/N said.  The next hour was torture.  She tried to stay still, to relax and let her mind wander into sleep, but she was so hyper aware of Bucky laying close by that she couldn’t quiet her mind or let herself get comfortable.  She was so stiff, her muscles fighting the urge to toss and turn, that it made her jittery and her breathing became shallow.  Suddenly Bucky let out another sigh that turned into a yawn and he turned to his other side to face her.  She didn’t dare move, but then his right arm curled over her stomach and started pulling her toward him.  Y/N squeaked in surprise at being manhandled, but stiffened again once he settled her back against his front, putting his metal arm beneath the pillow above her head.  She could feel his face nuzzle the back of her hair as he relaxed and breathed deeply.

“Relax, Y/N,” he murmured.  “You’ve been nearly shaking for the past hour.  We’re adults, right?”  She paused but nodded.  “And we pretend fucked just a couple of hours ago.  I think we can handle some cuddling.  Don’t send yourself into a panic attack over sleeping next to me.”

Y/N huffed a laugh at his words and let herself sink into the bed more comfortably.  “I’m sorry,” she said sheepishly, squeezing his arm around her waist.

“It’s okay,” Bucky chuckled.  “Just sleep.”

Y/N hummed in acknowledgement, then let herself fully melt into him.  She focused on his breathing, which helped even hers out enough that she started to drift off.  The last thing she could remember was the warmth of his body pressed against hers, and the feeling of his face nuzzling the crook of her neck.

***

She woke to a strange sensation that was shooting pleasurable pulses through her body.  There was a heavy weight on top of her, and it took her a moment to open her eyes and get her bearings to understand what was going on.  Her memory kicked in with flashes of their mission, then as the sensation happened again she gasped and her eyes widened comically.  Bucky was on top of her, holding her around the waist with his face pressed into her chest and his hips rutting in between her legs.  He was asleep still, and she had to stifle a laugh.  He was humping her in his sleep.  

Y/N bit her lip and tried to not laugh at the absurdity of the moment.  He was obviously dreaming of what they’d done earlier for the mission, since they were in the position she had put them in when the security guards found them.  She chuckled under her breath then started patting his upper back.

“Buck, wake up,” she said loudly.  He didn’t stop, but groaned at hearing her voice.  His thrusts got harder and she bit back a moan at the way his rock hard cock sent a thrill through her pussy and up her spine.  Even through his pajamas and her sleep shorts she could feel how hard and big he was, which had her imagination running wild, but she shook her head at herself and patted his back harder.  “Bucky, you gotta wake up!” she called to him, trying to keep her voice even.  His face turned on her chest, and he huffed a hot breath against her breasts as he nuzzled against them.

“Fuck,” he moaned.

He snapped his hips and Y/N whimpered, but her hands grabbed his face and pulled him up to look at her.  She tapped his cheek hard in desperation.  “BUCKY!” she shouted.

He jerked at the tap on his cheek and gasped as his eyes flew open.  He blinked rapidly, looking around until he met her gaze and his eyes narrowed.  “What?” he asked, then looked down at the position they were in.  His hips slightly pushed into hers again, making her gasp again and his mouth dropped open as he looked back at her in panic.  “Oh my god, I’m sorry,” he said, unraveling himself from her.  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize…” he huffed out a breath and hid his face on her stomach, pulling his hips away.

“It’s okay, Buck,” Y/N said quietly, running her fingers through his hair comfortingly.  “It’s okay.  We’re okay.”

He shook his head against her and then laughed.  “God this is so embarrassing,” he said, his voice muffled by her shirt.  

She giggled, and it made him look up at her with a sheepish smile.  “It’s okay, Buck, really,” she said, smiling back at him.  “Like you said, we pretend fucked earlier, so I’m sure it’s the first thing your dream brain came up with.”

Bucky huffed a laugh again, then licked his lips and his expression changed to one of curiosity.  “Did you moan?”  Y/N’s eyes widened, confirming his suspicions and his smile grew into a wicked grin.  “You did,” he said, pulling himself up to hover over her face-to-face.  His hips nestled between her legs again, not as a thrust but just to press his hard-on into her.  Y/N’s eyes fluttered at the feeling, and it made his grin look even more mischievous.  “So you liked pretending to fuck me, didn’t you?”

Y/N bit back a smile, knowing she was caught.  “Maybe,” she said teasingly.  

His eyes narrowed at her, then he slowly leaned down until their noses touched.  “You liked kissing me?” he asked, his voice coming out more gravelly as his gaze flickered over her face and down her body.  “Touching me?”

She felt dizzy from the confusing mix of her own embarrassment, arousal and overwhelming need making her blood rush, the sound of her heartbeat thundering in her ears.  Her eyelids fluttered again as his nose nuzzled her nose and then down her left cheek, his lips ghosting over her skin.  “M-maybe,” she stuttered.

He kissed her cheek, then continued a path of kisses down her jaw and to her neck where he opened his mouth and began licking and sucking at her neck.  “You want me?” he murmured against her throat.

“I…d-do you want me?” she asked through a shaky breath.  “You haven’t exactly been…n-n-nice to me.”

He froze mid suck at the crook of her neck, letting go of her skin then pulling back up to look at her.  The look on his face made her feel guilty, but she needed to know and understand.  “I…” he blinked and swallowed harshly.  “You’re right, I haven’t.”  She wanted to disappear at that moment.  She’d killed the mood.  She could have just let him fuck her, gotten whatever this tension was out of the way and let herself feel good.  But no, she had to go and make it all sappy and emotional.

Her phone suddenly rang and they both jumped, then Bucky quickly got off of her and nearly ran to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind himself.  She let out a loud huff then rolled over and picked up her phone.  “Hello?”

“Agent Y/L/N, we’re 10 minutes out,” the Quinjet operator informed her.

“Thank you.  We’ll be ready,” Y/N said quickly then hung up.  She sat up and rubbed her face before swinging her legs out of the bed and walking to the bathroom.  She knocked on the door.  “Quinjet will be here in 10,” she said in as monotone a voice that she could.  

“Thanks,” Bucky called out, his voice sounding flat as well.

Y/N rolled her eyes and turned to get dressed and gather her things to leave.  Back to square one, she thought.  Whatever.  

***

“Wait, is that…” Sam pointed to her neck as he did her mission debrief.  “Is that a hickey?”

Y/N frowned and reached up to the spot he was referring to.  It felt a little tender and she swallowed thickly.  “Probably,” she said.  “All part of the cover.”

His lips started to quirk up in a teasing smile and she rolled her eyes.  “You got Bucky to actually engage in the cover?” he asked.  “That’s a first.”

Y/N shook her head.  “Don’t read into it, Sam.”

He held his hands up in mock surrender.  “Alright, alright.  It’s just surprising, that’s all–”

“Are we done?” she snapped.  Sam gave her a surprised look, then nodded.  “Okay, thanks,” she said, then quickly stood from her chair and headed to her room.  Buck was waiting outside the office for his turn to debrief but she didn’t even look at him.  He had shut down on the way home and she wasn’t willing to coddle him into talking to her or explaining himself.  She didn’t care anymore.  What happened happened.  As she walked down the hall she missed the way his eyes followed her sadly, and how he’d opened his mouth to speak but shut it just as quickly.  He hung his head and shook it at himself before Sam opened the door.

“Your turn, lover boy.”

**Okay I know, I KNOW, I'm sorry. Part 2? How do they resolve this??**

[celestiaras]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ slacker ]❜

ft. kaelix debonair x f! reader — by the beat, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ kaelix is already on thin ice for slacking off, but you're always testing the breaking point┊1.3k words

contains: smut!! dom reader & sub kaelix┊established relationship, quickies, riding, unprotected piv, marking, voyerism kink(?), getting walked in on by zeal

➤ author's note: finally posted, everyone cheer and clap for me for something that is too long to be a drabble but too short to be a fic but i’m trying to make more time to write (i’ve been saying that for months when will i change)!! meli is singlehandedly carrying the niji x reader scene and i need to help support (ilysm if you're reading this btwww mwah)

if you must know, kaelix never slacks off on purpose. he’s as dedicated to his job as can be… but it isn’t really much to begin with. he can’t help it, he’s simply unable to stand in a single spot all night and spend hours checking people to ensure that they were old enough to enter and be drinking. there’s rarely ever an issue of disruptive patrons at this establishment, and if there is, the other boys usually are able to shut it down before they need him to help. he shouldn’t be complaining; he gets paid nicely to just stand there and look intimidating enough to give potential rabble-rousers second thoughts, but he wishes there could be some more action where he could put his skills to use.

the highlight of his job is often seeing you show up on a friday or saturday, dressed all pretty in a cute dress and wearing glittery makeup that makes your eyes pop. your friends love this place so much that they often drag you out on the weekends to party, drink the night away, and dance with attractive strangers. it’s fun for the first hour or two, but you always eventually find yourself searching for your boyfriend during his break in need of a breather from the loud music, bright lights, and sweaty crowds. 

sometimes there’s a story to tell about, maybe about how some guy tried to hit on you or how kaelix had to escort a drunk businessman off the premises. sometimes you sit in comfortable silence, sipping on sodas and scrolling on your phones, occasionally showing each other interesting things before giggling like school children because you both were too exhausted to do anything more. today, you both find yourselves unable to keep your hands off each other on the couch as you press into his body with your thighs wrapped around his torso, his tinted glasses slowly slipping out of place as he loses the battle of dominance between you. he could taste the liquor on your lips from earlier, getting drunk on the taste.

“god, you’re going to be the death of me,” you whined breathlessly with your hands reaching down to begin undoing his belt.

“h-hold on, wait— i only have two minutes left before i need to get back to work—”

“oh, are you really planning to go back to work in this state?” you teased, pressing into the notable tent in his gray trousers and giggling as he let out a groan. “it’s not like you’re a model employee, come on, just five minutes— four minutes— to blow off some steam then i’ll be out of your hair!”

he swallowed nervously, the feeling quickly being drowned by excitement getting shot through his veins like electricity. he shouldn’t be allowing this, he really shouldn’t be when he was already in hot water after getting scolded by freodore yesterday for slacking off. still, he couldn’t help but let out a pathetic moan into the palm of his hands as he tried his best to muffle his sinful sounds when you finally allow him to sink into where you needed him most. he can’t ever say no to you, but it’s like he wanted to now with your hands gripping hard onto his broad shoulder and your hips starting to work their way up and down his cock.

there’s always a certain high that comes with the risk factor of possibly getting caught in such a compromising situation. the risk of getting caught and the rush of chasing your climax always gives an edge to this compromising situation that can’t be replicated. maybe the two of you have been fucking around like this in hidden corners of the club more times than either of you would like to admit, weak to the convenient thrill that would also ruin both your reputations if found out. not that either of you cared at the moment, so wrapped up in each other that it seemed like nothing in the world could take your attention off the other. 

“ah, fuck,” you breathed out, pulling his hand away from your waist to your core instead, lazily moving the pad of his slightly calloused thumb around your clit so he would follow suit, “touch me here, please.”

kaelix was absolutely addicted to the soft little gasps escaping from your lips, swallowing your sounds with his tongue in your mouth, and trying to fight you for just a little bit more dominance in this dance. it was a useless attempt though, he was already so lost in the pleasure of your body on his that he didn’t even know up from down. the way he sunk into your heat so easily with nothing but pure arousal acting as lubricant, the way your hands were pulling at his top to feel his skin underneath, the way you whined out his name each time his upward thrusts had the head of his cock kissing the sensitive spot within you, everything was driving him just as insane as he would be if you were laid out before him in lacy lingerie for him to take his time with. it made his head spin knowing a goddess come to earth like you was his. 

“just a bit more, please—” he gasped, “i’m so close— fuck!”

you couldn’t help but giggle at how his pathetic tone of voice was, making him whimper with every drag of his cock against your velvety walls. “see, i told you all i needed was four minutes to get you off. isn’t spending quality time with your girlfriend like this so much more fun than checking id’s?” 

of course, he could hardly answer and only ended up choking on the words he intended to say as you moved to his neck, sucking on a sensitive spot under his jaw until a pretty purple blemish appeared— just in case someone else gets the idea to hit on him when he’s back on the clock, they’ll quickly get the hint that he’s already taken.

and that little hint of possessiveness is all it takes for him to unravel just as you pull yourself off of him, vision sparking white like fireworks and a shudder of hot relief washing over him with his cum sticking to your inner thighs. his muscles relaxed, and he probably would have collapsed if he hadn’t been supported by the cushions of the sofa. it slightly embarrassed him that he felt so fatigued after just a few minutes of action, but you understood that it’s already been a long night for him and he needed to get some edge off before the final few hours of his shift.

“kaelix, what the fuck are you doing? we need you to—” the two of you gasped as a familiar bartender burst through the door, his eyes landing on the two of you before they immediately screwed shut tightly with regret and placing his hand on his face with a groan. “of course, out of all the things you could possibly be doing—!”

the said man chuckled nervously, wrapping his arms around your body to help you preserve any ounce of modesty possible in front of the intruder. “you’re not gonna say anything to the others, right? right, bestie?” there was a cheesy grin on his face, knowing that this secret would be safe with zeal.

“unfortunately, my silence can be bought with twenty dollars, you can pay me later— right now, i need to wash my eyes with bleach to unsee what i just saw and you need to get back to work.”

waiting until he left to leave the two of you to clean up, the white-haired bouncer muttered into your shoulder, “but you didn’t get off yet…”

“oh, don’t worry about it,” you smiled, pressing a finger to his pouty lips before leaning in to kiss them one last time, “you can make it up to me when you get home.”

[colorfulrook]

Gotta shoot my shot 😆 Could I request number 84. "I could kiss you for hours." with dear Reader attacking poor Woo Jinchul's face and shoulders with kisses? This guy is so overworked and stressed I think it'd be nice to see him relax for once :(

Also feel free to make it nsfw if you feel like it~

100x100 Blurb

Number 84. "I could kiss you for hours"

Woo Jinchul didn’t know the last time he’d stopped moving.

His apartment lights still blinked like they didn’t recognize him when he walked in. His coat barely made it onto the rack before he collapsed on the couch, tie undone and posture still tense. Files littered his briefcase. Shadows lingered under his eyes like bruises. It was always another raid, another gate, another press release to assure the public that yes, the Bureau had things under control.

He didn’t even hear you enter the room — not until your hands were ghosting over his shoulders, sliding gently beneath his blazer to ease it off.

“You’re home,” you said softly.

He sighed, eyes falling shut. “Yeah.”

“You forgot to eat again.”

“…Maybe.” There was no point to lie, your pretty eyes would catch him.

You clicked your tongue and leaned in, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “What am I going to do with you, Guildmaster Woo?”

The warmth in your voice made something in him flicker.

And then your hands were guiding him upright, tugging him gently until he was lying back against the couch cushions and you were straddling his lap, fingers working at the buttons of his dress shirt. Slowly one by one they popped open.

“You don’t have to—” he started, but you stopped him with a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“But I want to. Let me spoil you."

You didn’t dive in all at once. You took your time.

You started at his jaw, soft and slow, pressing kisses along the angle of his face like it was something precious. Then down, brushing over his pulse point where you felt his breath quicken, then along his collarbone — where his tie had left faint marks from being worn too tight too long.

“You’re tense,” you murmured, lips grazing his skin with each word. “Your body’s screaming at you to rest and you just… don’t listen.”

He made a sound in his throat — something like a weak protest — but it melted quickly as you kissed down to his shoulder, your mouth mapping out each line of muscle with lazy affection. His shirt slipped lower, crumpled under your pretty hands as you pressed kisses across his bare skin. Your fingers danced along the tension in his shoulders, kneading as you moved, lips trailing along the spot where his neck met his shoulder until he let out a breathless, shaky sigh.

“Does that feel good?” you whispered.

He nodded — barely. “Too good.”

You smiled against his skin. “Good. You deserve it.”

You kissed him again. His jaw, his throat, the edge of his lips. You made a quiet vow to yourself — to worship every inch of him that the job had bruised, every place he neglected in his rush to be strong for everyone else.

Your hands slipped behind his neck, fingers weaving into his hair. You pulled him toward you, mouths meeting in a kiss that started gentle but deepened quickly, heat curling between your bodies like smoke. He was pliant under your touch now, letting himself sink into you, the stress bleeding out of his muscles with every brush of your lips.

You pulled back just enough to murmur against his mouth:

“I could kiss you for hours.”

His eyes fluttered open — glassy, warm.

“Then don’t stop.”

You didn’t.

You kissed the slope of his shoulder again, slower this time, more deliberate. One hand ran along his side, fingers sliding under his loosened shirt to feel the warmth of his heart of flames — grounding, solid, real. He shivered just slightly when your mouth found the dip below his collarbone, and you took your time there, kissing him until he was arching just a little, like he didn’t know whether to chase your touch or run from the way it made him feel.

His voice came out low. “You’re going to ruin me.”

You glanced up, lips curved. “That’s the plan.”

He let out a quiet, helpless laugh — the kind that shook free from his chest like it hadn’t seen sunlight in days. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet, here you are. Letting me kiss you into next week.”

He looked at you then — really looked. And what you saw wasn’t just exhaustion or tension, but awe. Like he still couldn’t believe someone like you waited for him every night at home, eager to have him between your arms.

You leaned in once more and pressed a long, lingering kiss to his lips, your fingers cupping his face, thumbs brushing over the skin under tired his eyes.

“You don’t have to hold it together all the time, Jinchul,” you whispered. “Let me take care of you for once.”

And when his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer — when his head dipped to rest against your shoulder like it was the safest place in the world — you knew he would. He pressed a searing kiss on your shoulders, eyes glinting of mischief.

"Lead the way then"

[kyunghwannie]

Who in twice have this wild experiences in sex. If you can give explanation much better.

You can put a member many times over if you think she experience more than one of this scenarios.

1.) Had sex in a public place.

2.) Had a quickie sex during break while having a concert.

3.) Had one night stand with a fan.

4.) Had sex with a man with big belly or fat man.

5.) Had sex with a much older man like 20+ years older.

6.) Had sex with a man having BBC or BWC.(Specify who's member prefers BBC or BWC)

P.s. This is part 1 of my ask since I thought of many scenarios so I decided to divide it. Take your time answering this bro, I know you can cook. 🔥

KYUNGHWANNIE’S "TWICE: BEHIND THE SCENES (WAY BEHIND)" SEXUAL ADVENTURES TIER LIST

Before that, go read this.

(Disclaimer: This is 100% delulu fanfiction. But also… idols are human. And humans do wild shit. So let’s play pretend with sparkly judgment.)

1.) Had Sex in a Public Place

Winner: Sana (duh).

Where? Backstage at a music show, pressed against a mirror in the shared dressing room.

Why Her? That girl has zero fear. One wink at a staffer she trusted, and suddenly she’s hiking her skirt up in a supply closet, muffling her moans in his shoulder while the others rehearse "TT" down the hall.

Bonus Detail: She loved the risk—sweat dripping down her thighs, his fingers digging into her ass as she rode him, whispering "unnie could walk in…" just to feel him throb.

Honorable Mention: Nayeon (airplane bathroom. Allegedly.)

2.) Quickie During a Concert Break

Winner: Jihyo.

The Scene: Coachella. 90-degree heat. She’s drenched in sweat, still in her stage corset, and some VIP fan (who totally wasn’t Kyunghwannie, hehe) sneaks her into a trailer.

The Act: Bent over a makeup chair, skirt shoved up, him pounding into her like he’s trying to match the bass of "Feel Special." She came twice in 7 minutes.

Aftermath: Fixed her smudged lipstick, walked back onstage like nothing happened, and still hit the high note in "Cry For Me." Icon behavior.

3.) One-Night Stand with a Fan

Winner: Momo.

The Setup: After-party in Tokyo. Drunk, horny, and over the dating ban. Some ONCE with very good dance skills (and hands) flirted his way into her hotel room.

The Reality: She rode him reverse-cowgirl so he could watch her ass bounce, then kicked him out at 4 AM with a "don’t tweet about this."

Regrets? Zero. But she did steal his hoodie.

4.) Sex with a Fat Man

Winner: Jeongyeon. (I judge you for this ask, anon. But I deliver.)

The Story: Post-breakup rebound. Some adorable chubby producer with dad vibes made her laugh, then ate her out like it was his last meal.

Her Review: "10/10, would suffocate again."

Kyunghwannie’s Note: I hate that what i wrote is kinda wholesome

5.) Sex with a Man 20+ Years Older

Winner: Mina.

The Plot Twist: It was her ballet instructor from her pre-debut days. Reconnected, "mentorship" got… hands-on.

The Dynamic: She let him tie her up with silk ribbons (for ~artistic purposes~), then cried when he fucked her with the maturity of a man who actually knows how to pace.

Why It Fits: Mina’s a secret old soul. Also, "respect your elders" took on a new meaning.

6.) BBC/BWC Enthusiast

Prefer BBC: Sana (again). Size queen energy. Once whimpered "it won’t fit—" before taking every inch like the champ she is.

Prefer BWC: Tzuyu. Shy until she’s not. Some blonde foreign model ruined her for mortal men.

Wildcard: Chaeyoung (no preference, but definitely drew her partner’s dick in her notebook afterward).

Final Verdict:

Most Likely to Have Done All of These: Sana. No further questions.

Least Likely (But Still Possible): Dahyun… unless it was in a church confessional. Then maybe.

(Remember, ONCE: This is fiction. But if you squint… 👀)

=======

KYUNGHWANNIE’S "TWICE & THE MYSTERIOUS CASE OF PORN-BRAIN FANS" ROAST SESSION ✨

(Disclaimer: This is a 100% unserious, glitter-coated drag of porn tropes, not the members themselves. Idols are innocent angels who only drink smoothies and hold hands. Probably.)

Sparkly Judgment Delivered! ✨ (Now go touch grass, anon.)

1.) The "Fat Guy Kink" – AKA "Sir, This Is a Wendy’s"

Alleged Suspect: Jeongyeon (because I've seen most fic i saw of her insist in wattpad).

The "Plot":

"Ohhh, Jeongyeon loves a big teddy bear of a man!" – says every fanfic written by someone who watches too much "Chubby CEO Seduces Idol" JAV.

Reality Check: Jeongyeon’s type is literally "someone who brings me food and leaves." She’s not climbing Mount Dad Bod for plot convenience.

Roast Level: 🌟 "If I wanted a belly, I’d just wait for Momo to finish eating." – Jeongyeon, probably.

2.) The "BBC/BWC Obsession" – AKA "Pornhub Called, They Want Their Stereotypes Back"

Alleged Suspects: Sana (BBC) & Tzuyu (BWC)

The "Logic":

"Sana’s Japanese, so obviously she craves BBC!" – 🤓 

"Tzuyu’s tall, so she needs BWC to match!" – 🤡

Reality Check:

Sana would actually prefer someone who can keep up with her energy, not just their shoe size.

Tzuyu is not a math equation ("if height = dick length, then…"). Girl just wants a guy who doesn’t faint when she looks at him.

Roast Level: ✨ "Anon, you’ve been watching too much ‘Foreigner Corrupts Innocent girl’ category. Go outside."

Final Verdict:

TWICE’s real kinks? Personal space, sleep, and not being shipped with random body types.

Sparkly Roast Complete! 🌈 (Now go watch a cooking show or something. Reset that algorithm.)

💎 P.S. for Anon: "No kink-shaming here, babes—just a gentle, sparkly reality check that real-life TWICE isn’t the weird JAV plot where a big bbc guy pound them into oblivion or a pervy fat guy is leeching on them. Maybe if It's like fluff, iam acceptable to it. Wholesome fun is smth else.. Enjoy your fantasies, but maybe balance that diet with some fresh air and a cold shower. Love ya! ✨" and dont argue with me or else I'll make a smut with the same trope saying it is you who is the Guy- oh wait, you’d enjoy it anyway. SHIT!-

(Translation: Go off, but hydrate.)

[theexaltedbride]

Rabbit with a Deceased Reader lover Headcanons.

Losing you was one of the worst pains Rabbit has ever experienced. When it first happened it was a blinding agony which drowned out all of his other senses. Now it is a dull ache constantly on his heart which waxes and wanes, but in its own way...it is a good pain. Because it tells the demon that he truly did have a heart, and he really did love you.

'If this is why Sparda did what he did...then I understand.' He thinks to himself as his hand moves in circles over his own heart, still trying to soothe the aching, if even for just a moment.

Being a demon means he's lived a long time and seen many horrors. Far too many than is right for anyone to have to ever endure.

After a while it becomes easy to ignore them, he just let them slide off his soul like water off of a duck's back. But that same emotional state would just as common with the good events too. It all became like a blur after a while. A dull gray haze where thoughts were rendered into nothing but a faint buzz at the back of the mind.

Rabbit felt like he was sleepwalking through life until he met you.

You were different. The time you and rabbit spent together was like a reprieve from the daily discomfort and hardship, a stay of execution on his very soul. It let him forget all his troubles for a few blessed years. The good times and the bad times are still clear in his mind, even if they've begun fraying at the edges, and specific details have blurred, he still remembers you. Rabbit never forgot your favorite mix of tea that he would brew for you. He never forgot how it felt to dance with you, to hold you, kiss you, the feeling of your fingers between his own.

Whenever Rabbit is alone at night, unable to sleep, he will close his eyes and think of the soothing memories he had of you, just casually walking together, him showing you the small creatures of Makai which weren't dangerous, or just holding you close to him and sharing the warmth of your bodies. They are still fresh in his mind, and never fail to bring him comfort.

It almost makes up for how he's forgotten your scent (despite his best efforts), how he can't remember the exact sound of your laugh or what it felt like to run his hands through your hair. Things slip through his grasp even despite his best efforts. Each time he loses a memory, it's like a small part of him has died.

-Rabbit's mood has permanently soured with your passing. He still smiles and laughs on occasion, but much of the time has him serious or frowning. Thoughts of you on your best days never fail to bring at least a half smile to his face.

-Any trinket of yours which survived your passing will become cherished by him, and losing it or misplacing it will drive him rabid. Even just forgetting where he put it has him scurrying around a room and turning things over, only able to calm down once he can feel it in the palm of his hand or press it to his chest, above his heart, as if it were a bandage over the hole left when you died.

-Like with Dante and the flight attendant who looked like his mother, anyone who looks or acts like you will get a reaction from Rabbit. His temper will be cooled by them and he will be more lenient than he would with others. But he knows that they aren't you, and this is just him longing for what he can't have anymore.

-The temptation to go full Dr. Frankenstein, or make deals with more powerful demons to bring you back to lie is always there for Rabbit. If he could just have you back for even a single day, it would be worth the price. But he never does it. He fears what would happen if you were brought back 'wrong', or if your soul were snatched up by some other demon. Or worse...if you were in an actual Heaven of your own, and he was stealing you away from it....he misses you, but he wouldn't want to rob you of paradise like that.

-Rabbit will tell the story of how you and he met to younger Makaians as if it were a fairy tale, spinning a yarn about a noble (if headstrong) Rabbit prince of a lost kingdom trying to win the heart of their one true love.

It's easier for him to think of it that way, because sometimes he struggles to believe he could ever be so lucky as to earn someone like you in his life. He thinks himself unworthy of such love, and that was why he lost you.

"If there is a God in charge of all of this, he took my dearest from me, because I don't deserve that kind of happiness." He would say if anyone managed to learn about how much he still misses you.

"I'm vile, I'm hateful to the extreme, I'm prideful, I...didn't appreciate my dearest enough. So, I didn't deserve to have them."

-Sometimes he truly wishes he could just fade out, and leave it all behind. But he made you a promise in your last moments, that he would live. He'd find happiness, and he wouldn't lose himself to despair.

-He doesn't know if he will ever move on...maybe he will, demons live a very long time after all, or maybe he won't. But whatever choice he makes, his love for you and those precious moments you both spent together will never stop mattering to him. Rabbit will keep them with him till he too fades, and if there is an afterlife for creatures like him, he swears to find you there.

========

Couple's Playlist.

'Strong For Somebody Else' ~Citizen Soldier.

'Who wants to live forever?' ~ Queen.

[wormholxtreme]

His head was spinning, the butterflies finding their way through his chest and into his head. It was dizzying, but in a way that warmed him through his core and made him feel like he could fly. A sort of invincibility. He was walking on air. Weightless. He tried to find a comparison, something in his short life that could even remotely describe the joy of being in her presence, let alone feeling her lips against his. Nothing compared. No amount of sweetness could describe the taste of her. Even the warmth of an orange sunset across the trees paled in comparison to her.

Peeta allowed her to turn away. Words were never her strong suit, and he'd pressed her enough to tell him what she wanted, what she needed from him. He was beyond ecstatic, buzzing with a sort of excitement that would normally get him in trouble. He was always so calculated and controlled. He didn't want his excitement to be more than she could handle. So he opted to let them stay in this space, this warm silence. He went back to chopping the vegetables.

"Hm?" he hummed turning to her, but the grin on his face told her he'd heard every word. A since of pride washed over him now too.

His brow flicked, the grin turning into a half smirk as he took the sight of her in. "I didn't know I was that good of a kisser." he said cheekily.

He moved closer, watching as her eyes fell to his lips and then back to his eyes. The smirk deepening, then turning back into that beaming grin as she held her head up higher. She was so cute, puffing up, staring him down, not to be taunted or intimidated by his teasing.

Peeta reached out, taking her chin in his hand. He brought her closer, a strong and coaxing her for more. She could easily turn away from him if she wanted. "If that's what you want, I'm not going to stop you." he said, his voice low and sultry.

He didn't wait for her this time. Feeling more confident in her want, he fell into his own desire and pressed his lips to hers. He broke again and gave her a wink. "Feel free to do that any time you want." he told her.

He lost track of time and how many kisses either one of them initiated. There was no keeping score. Just the light pecks as he walked past her to the stove, or a heavier moment when the stew sat on the fire and he could take his time falling into her kiss over and over.

"Okay," he adjusted his shirt, smoothing the creases from her gripping onto him. He moved his finger to brush dark locks out of her face that had moved out of place. "I'm sure Prim and your mom are wondering where you are." The light danced in his eyes. A glaze over them. He didn't need Haymitch's white liquor to feel this loose and warm inside. He just needed her.

Katniss had known hunger.

She’d felt it in the sharp ache of an empty stomach, in the desperate gnawing at her ribs when there was no game in the woods, when Prim’s cheeks grew too hollow and the snow offered nothing but silence. She had known what it meant to starve.

But not like this.

This—this was different. This was heat and longing and need that had nothing to do with food or survival. This was want. Starvation of another kind, one that sat under her skin and coiled in her belly, that only grew worse the longer she was near him. His hands on her waist, his lips on hers—it was dizzying. Maddening. And when he lifted her, when the table creaked beneath her and his body moved between her legs, her breath caught in her throat and her heart nearly stumbled. She had always thought she was made of thorns and barbed wire and fire, not softness, not sweetness. Not this kind of touch. Not this kind of hunger. Her fingers curled in the soft cotton of his shirt as their mouths parted, her breath catching at the ridiculous gentleness in his voice. That little laugh. That blinding, golden smile that made her heart beat in all the wrong places.

Here he was. Giving, steady, warm. Her anchor and her undoing. When he finally pulled away, forehead pressed to hers, she couldn’t speak right away. Could barely remember how. Her lips tingled, her cheeks were aflame, but her gaze held his, shy but sure. He offered her his hand, she blinked and took it, fingers slipping into his like they were meant to be there.

Her voice, when it came, was quiet. Almost a whisper. “Mhm”

It was all she could manage. All she dared to admit. But the weight behind it, the raw truth she barely knew how to face—it hung between them. He called it practicing, but that very much felt real. Katniss swallowed, her toes brushing the ground until her feet made steady contact. It was a different kind of adrenaline in her veins, and she wanted to ask why they need to bother with dinner at all. Not when they could continue that.

"Right, dinner. . ." She wasn't hungry. Not for that. Not in the slightest. Katniss reached blindly for the kettle on the stove, her brows knitted together in thought. The whistle died out, replaced by the soft hum of her pulse still thudding in her ears. She didn’t look at him right away — couldn’t, not when her lips still tingled and her breath still came shallow. But as the silence stretched, the kind of silence that felt heavy and thick with meaning, she finally turned her head just enough to glance over her shoulder at him.

“I was gonna let it boil dry,” she muttered, cheeks flushed and voice a little too sharp — not from anger, but from being entirely flustered. “You distracted me.” Her eyes flicked to his mouth again, then away, then back. She hesitated, then added, with a stubborn lift of her chin, “I think we should’ve just let it. Could’ve gotten another few minutes in before anything caught fire.”

[neiled-it]

do you ever just look at a piece of writing and think:

"if words were people i'd be smooching this stanza like we were the only people left on earth"

or is it just me?

[gfwooyo]

cannot stop thinking about yungi youth mv

[tonycries]

Little Heaven

Synopsis. He’s just your friend-with-benefits, right? So why - in the still haze of the soft sheets and you, fúcking you so sensual and tenderly - does he feel like he’s found his own personal heaven?

Pairing. Multiple x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, kinda fluffy, he’s both pússydrunk and in love, slow to rough, marking, mentions of marriage and kids, morning, swearing.

Word count. 1.3k

A/N. Probably the fluffiest smút I’ve ever written.

You were just his friend-with-benefits, right? No strings attached, right? 

So why was he here? Sinking into your plush mattress, quiet morning sun just barely peeking in through the curtains as he wraps his arms around your naked figure. 

God, he really shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be laying you on your side, drinking in your soft little, “G’mornin’.” Both of your movements languid and still burning with soreness. Your hips pushing back desperately into his as he positions himself so that his leaking tip was just kissing your swollen folds. 

He shouldn’t be whispering soft kisses into the marks that littered your skin. Licking one, long stripe up the sinful trail of hickies down your neck. All sensual touches where it was bruising grips last night. 

That was rule #1, right? No marks. 

Or was it #4… 

Ah, right now he couldn’t give less of a fuck. Not when his greedy eyes wander the expanse of your face, fingers trailing along the features he’s mapped a thousand times over. Tracing delicate patterns across your skin, snaking down, down, down to leisurely lift your leg a little higher. 

Bare chest warm against your back, his voice is low and gravelly in your ear as he whispers, “I had a dream y’know.” 

Mind still thinly veiled with sleep, you lean into his warm touch, “Mhm?” 

Your breath hitches at the way he drags his swollen head teasingly across your slit, pooling your slick on his achingly hard tip. Smearing your juices with his thumb as he pumps himself lazily. It’s so torturously good. You almost miss the way he buries his face into the crook of your neck, murmuring a soft “Had a dream of us.”

Oh? 

Before you can overthink his words, he’s nudging in gently. So agonizingly gentle. And you can do nothing more than let out barely-audible whispers of his name as he bullies his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. 

You feel so full. So drunk off of the delicious burn of your pussy and him. 

And it seems he was drunk on you just as much, because as soon as his hips are flush against yours, the words escape him. So quiet and groggy with sleep, that you almost don’t catch them.

“Had a dream that I made you my beautiful bride.”

Oh. 

That was new. His words hung heavy in the heady air. 

Shivers run down your spine - all the way to where he was buried in your dripping cunt. Your voice is slightly shaky as you let out a humorless laugh, “Oh yeah? Must’ve been a nightmare then.”

Soft lips press against your forehead, breathing in your scent. Absolutely searing as he mutters out a muffled, “No, was the best dream I ever had.”

And then, with the audacity of someone who didn’t just send your mind reeling, he pulls his hips back unhurriedly. Immediately fucking into you at a slow, sensual pace. Tip kissing your cervix as he rolls his hips languidly into yours, making sure you feel every bump and graze against your tight walls.

You don’t know what’s more maddening - his agonizing pace or the words that tumble out of his lips. “Y’looked so beautiful in white. So pretty walking down the aisle to me.” 

His lips brush against yours, hands dancing across every inch of you he could reach. Gently caressing the skin like it’s something divine, soothing over the marks from last night as if an apology. “Don’ think I’d want to see anyone else there.”

You glance back at him - only to find his eyes already on you. A jolt of electricity runs across your skin at the pure warmth in them. And you realize that, no, this wasn’t a joke. 

Not trusting yourself to speak, you simply grind your hips down to meet his, abs rubbing against your ass. Letting out a broken whimper of what sounds like his name as he moves down a hand to press rough, little circles over and over your throbbing clit. 

“Saw a little something else too.” he hums, a sly smile curling his lips as his other hand dances across your body to press down on your stomach. Hard. “Saw that I had some competition - two actually. Funny, right?”

“Hah- h-hilarious.” you manage to choke out as his thumb speeds up on your clit, hips moving a bit more purposefully. A bit more like you were used to. Rock-hard cock plunging into your quivering cunt in deliberate, sloppy thrusts that have you white-knuckling the sheets. 

“Though…” he trails off dangerously, pulling back all the way until his furiously hard tip was just kissing your waiting hole. “I wouldn’t really mind.”

And with that he’s sheathing his throbbing erection in your wet pussy completely. A gasp of delight leaves him at the way you take him so readily. Walls sucking him up so sinfully - perfect. You were always so perfect for him. 

“Dreamt we had a lil’ house with a big garden.” God, he can feel his cock harden so painfully at the fucked-out little ah! ah! ah! leaving your pretty lips each time his hip smack into yours. It’s music to his ears, such a shame he just can’t shut the fuck up right now. “And then you dressed the kids up while I made breakfast.”

“Then you made us do taxes and I didn’t even fucking mind.” His voice is strained now, words slurring together as he rams his cock deeper and deeper, glistening with your slick in the soft morning glow. 

“And finally at night, I say we should make a third one.” 

He looks at you, a sly grin stretching his lips, eyes half-lidded and a dangerous twinkle in them that has you wondering whether everything he said before was merely a ruse to fuck you silly. And it probably shows on your face - because he grins lowly in your ear, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, we have till our wedding night f’me to fuck you slow.”

And oh he almost feels guilty. But he can’t bring himself to slow down at the way your swollen lips drop into such a pretty oh! at his words. Mewling at the sting of his heavy balls as they smack your ass. Walls clamping down desperately on his dick, milking him for every drop of pleasure. Each thrust into your warm core has his eyes rolling to the back of his head, brows furrowing in ecstasy as he focuses on making you lose your mind. 

He shifts his angle slightly, grinding expertly against your g-spot just right, and you throw your head back, releasing a low moan of his name.

“Shit. Yeah, say m’name, sweetheart. Jus’ like that.” he moans breathlessly. 

His name - soon to be yours.

Maybe.

You turn your head to face him, eyes fiery as you capture his in an equally scorching kiss. Cock slamming into your poor, abused cunt with an intensity that matches that of your lips.

Probably. 

Biting down on his lower lips, soft yet insistent. Humming deliriously against his mouth - and in the heat of it all, he feels you smile against his lips. Ever-so-slightly. 

Definitely. 

And then you’re cumming. White-hot pleasure behind your eyes, walls clamping down so deliciously around his twitching cock. It sends him over the edge as well - whispering your name as if a prayer, voice hoarse with emotions neither of you could name at this very moment. 

Hot ropes of his thick cum paint your trembling cunt white, milking the soul out of him as you both ride out your climaxes together. A creamy ring forming around his base as some truly animalistic part of himself fucks his seed into you - a promise, he likes to think.

“I’m serious about the dream.”

Almost as gentle as that one. 

As the haze settles, his thrusts slowing down to just shallow grinds, a fragile silence envelopes the room as neither of you speak. Because maybe no other words were needed. 

And right now, morning sunlight harsh on his skin, strong arms pulling you warm body flush against his, no one but you two in this quiet world - he doesn’t think he’d like to be anywhere else.

All is well in your little heaven.

- GOJO, GETO, Choso, SUNA, ATSUMU, Tsukishima, Kuroo, EREN

A/N. Bro it took longer to think of what to write than to write this. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[psychoticfemmm]

Prove It

Pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

Summary: Some Kook girl spreads a rumor that she hooked up with Rafe—just to piss you off. When you confront him, it turns into an argument where you start to doubt him. But Rafe? He refuses to let you walk away.

You weren’t even looking for drama tonight.

You just wanted a chill night at the party—have a drink, dance a little, maybe even get Rafe to actually behave himself for once. But no. Instead, you had to hear some random girl tell everyone that she hooked up with your boyfriend.

At first, you laughed it off.

Because really? Rafe Cameron? Cheating on you? Not a chance.

But then you saw her—smirking, flicking her eyes in your direction, looking entirely too pleased with herself. And suddenly, you weren’t so sure.

So now here you were, arms crossed, standing in front of Rafe, daring him to explain.

“She’s saying you hooked up,” you snapped, voice sharper than intended. “Are you gonna deny it, or just stand there looking like an asshole?”

Rafe, leaning against the counter with his beer, just sighed—like this was a mild inconvenience rather than a full-on crisis.

“Babe, really?” He raised a brow. “You actually believe her?”

You hesitated.

And that hesitation? Oh, Rafe did not like that.

His jaw ticked, and suddenly, he was pushing off the counter, closing the space between you in two slow steps.

“Let me get this straight,” he murmured, towering over you now. “You think I’d let some desperate, pathetic Kook girl anywhere near me—when I have you?”

You hated that he said it like that—like it was the most ridiculous accusation ever. Like you should’ve just known better.

You huffed, looking away. “I don’t know, Rafe. You weren’t exactly shutting her down.”

His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at him.

“I don’t even know her name,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “You really think I’d fuck around on you? You think I’d risk losing you for some nobody?”

Your stomach flipped at how serious he looked—blue eyes dark, lips pressed into a firm line.

You swallowed. “…I don’t know.”

That was the wrong answer.

Rafe’s gaze hardened. “Bullshit.” He stepped closer, voice dropping lower. “You know damn well, no matter how mad you get at me, we’re always gonna work it out.”

You blinked up at him, heart hammering. “Rafe—”

“No, listen to me.” His voice was firm now, like he was making a point you weren’t allowed to argue. “You don’t get to walk away over this. Not from me.”

You sucked in a breath, nails digging into your palms. “You act like I don’t have a choice.”

Rafe grinned. “You don’t.”

His fingers curled around your jaw, holding you in place. “Because I love you. And I don’t give a shit how upset you are, you’re still mine.”

Your breath hitched. Your body was betraying you, leaning into him even as your brain told you to stay mad.

Rafe’s smirk turned smug. He could feel you giving in.

“You wanna be mad at me?” His fingers traced your jaw, down to your neck. “Fine. But don’t ever doubt that I’m yours.”

Then, just to make his point, he turned his head slightly—locking eyes with that girl across the room. The one who started all this.

And then?

He kissed you.

Hard.

His hand gripped your waist, pulling you so close there wasn’t a single inch of space between you. His other hand slid into your hair, tilting your head back, deepening the kiss.

He made a point to make it slow. Intense. Unapologetic.

By the time he pulled back, you were breathless, fingers curled into his shirt.

Rafe leaned in, lips brushing against your ear, voice low and smug.

“Nice try, though.”

Across the room, the girl’s expression was pure embarrassment.

And Rafe? Rafe just grinned—like he had just won the best game he’d ever played.

You sighed. “You’re such an asshole.”

Rafe just laughed, squeezing your hip. “Yeah, but I’m your asshole.”

And honestly?

Yeah, he was.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

hope you liked it <3

[222col]

bimbo!reader x rafe cameron

summary: rafe's fresh out of jail, and needs to find a girl to convince ward he's been with her, not locked up for the week

cw .ᐟ hints at nsfw, kidnapping

꒰ notes ꒱ based on the film buffalo '66 (1998)

pulling your little pink duffle up over your shoulder, pink tights and sheer skirt still pristine even after the hour of dance class. waving goodbye to your friends before walking down the opposite hallway. god, how you wished you’d just followed them.

“don’t fuckin’ scream.”

you would if his calloused hand wasn't gripping your cheeks so tight, muffled whimpers were all that fell through the gaps. the strangers hands grabbing and groping at your body, pulling your back flush against his chest. walking backwards out the dance studio, with you in his grip.

eyes already welling up, feet kicking as he drags you out the back door. your lipstick smudging underneath his hand, fingers surely bruising your jaw with his tight grip.

“gonna move my hand, and y’gonna be fuckin’ quiet, ‘kay?” the stranger mumbles into your ear, lips ghosting over your skin.

body slammed up against the car, meeting the face of him. pretty eyes widened as you reluctantly nod your head. he starts to slowly remove his hand from your mouth and���

“help! help me! please, help—“

his hand clamps back down over your mouth, slamming your body back against the car with force. “the fuck did i just say?”

he fumbles with the keys in his pocket, before opening the back door and pushing your body inside. locking you in immediately, he wasn’t taking any chances.

mutters of complaint under his breath as he walks around to the drivers side, sliding into his seat as his eyes lock on you through the rear view mirror.

“don’t make me hurt you, no one can hear you from inside the car, so keep that pretty mouth shut.”

rafe was fresh out of jail, finally had to pay for one of his crimes. not that he was in there long, one visit from his lawyer and he was out the place. made the fucker swear ward was to hear nothing of this. rafe was meant to be proving he could step up, be the man he was meant to be.

which is how he found himself with some pretty airhead in the back seat. he’d told ward a little white lie, to avoid the whole jail situation. told his dad he was away with his girlfriend. what girlfriend he asked. yeah, good fuckin’ question.

that’s where you come in.

“look, all you gotta do is this one thing for me and i’ll let you go,” rafe mumbles, eyes darting between the road and the mirror as he drives. aw, you’re still trying to unlock the door. poor girl. “you just gotta pretend to my girlfriend, just for a couple hours.”

now that, that got your attention. slumping back to the middle seat, looking to him through the mirror. head tilted, suddenly… docile.

“your girlfriend?” you murmur, fiddling with a strand of your hair. “you kidnapped me, to pretend to be your girlfriend?”

eyes rolling to the back of his head, grip tightening on the steering wheel. “didn’t fuckin’ kidnap you,” kidnapped, borrowed, same thing. “you just gotta act the part for couple hours for my family, then i’ll let you go.”

it wasn’t like you just forgot the way he snatched you up, didn’t forget the feeling of his hands on your body, but for some reason, you were willing to hear him out. not that you had much choice.

“soooo,” you murmur, face softening as you speak. “what’s your name?”

why were you suddenly so calm? it was freaking him out. did he manage to pick up a cute little psychopath?

“rafe.” he mumbles, eyes locked on yours through the mirror.

climbing into the front, slumping down into the seat next to him. he could lie and say he wasn’t watching the way your chest bulged over your top as you did, but that be the furthest thing from the truth.

he took his time looking over your features as you sat next to him, the glitter on your eyes, how your hair fell on your shoulders. at least he managed to pick a pretty one.

“what’s your family like?” you murmur softly, almost batting your lashes over to him. “don’t worry about it.” rafe responds, voice gruff, overcompensating for the newfound closeness between you two.

“well, how am i meant to be your girlfriend if i don’t know?” you huff, arms folded over your chest. jesus, you were temperamental.

“oh my god,” he mutters, shaking his head, knuckles growing white from his grip on the wheel. “they’re rich, my little sister will probably talk your ear off, my step-mom’s a bitch and my dad, well, my dad’s my dad.” right, helpful.

the car pulls up to tannyhill, eyes widening slightly at the size of the place. rafe puts in the car in park, and turns his body to face you. “do not fuck this up for me, i have no problem making you disappear.”

you weren’t sure if it was an empty threat or not, but you did not wanna find out. gulping down your nerves, a soft nod of your head. climbing out the car, rafe’s arm gently placed around your waist. the softness such a contrast to the way in which he first touched you.

quick introductions, playing the part. rafe's tight grip on your arm reminding you the consequences if you don't. "y'gonna sit there and look fuckin' pretty, 'kay?" he mumbles into your ear, pushing you down onto the chair. look pretty. okay, that you could do.

"rafe's just the sweetest guy i ever met," you feign a smile, leaning into him next to you, dialling up the affections before his family. ward and rose's eyes dart between each other and you. rafe? sweet? "m'so glad i met him."

fucking jackpot. you're playing this better than rafe ever could imagined, a soft kiss to the top of your head, pulling the dining chair you're sat on closer to his own. his arm gently snaking around your waist, letting you continue on with the forced pleasantries.

"he looks after me s'good," you smile, batting your lashes over to rafe. the smile on his face isn't fake, he's genuinely impressed with the performance you're putting on. "always spoiling me."

"damn right i do," rafe smirks, unable to stop the way his fingers are starting to move up under your top. c'mon, he can't help it. you're too fucking pretty and saying all these nice things about him. can barely blame him, especially when he sees the look of disapproval in rose's eyes when she notices.

"gotta look after my girl." he murmurs, loud enough for the room to hear, playing it off as though the words were meant only for you.

he's not entirely sure if everyone is buying the act, but somehow, it's working for him. rafe's genuinely getting caught up in your words, the feel of your skin beneath his fingers, the way your smile lights up your entire face. he couldn't give a fuck if the act was working on his dad, it was working on him.

"so, how'd you met?" wheezie smiles, leaning on her palms, all too excited about rafe bringing a girl home.

"country club." rafe mutters before you can attempt a lie they won't believe. his eyes barely looking away from you to answer his sister. "mhm, yeah, at the country club." you smile, nodding your head softly. rafe can't hold back the small chuckle that escapes him, pressing a kiss to your temple. you're so obedient, echoing his words, playing the perfect girlfriend. he's almost forgotten he threatened to kill you if you didn't.

his family can barely believe the scene, how gently he's touching you, how softly he's speaking to you, he was acting like someone they'd never seen before. they weren't questioning if you were his girlfriend or not, you'd manage to sell that perfectly well. ward and rose were almost in awe of how you'd managed to turn rafe into what appearred as a functioning human with emotions.

"come on, princess, we gotta go," he mumbles after an hour or so, gently leading you up and towards the door. "so soon?" wheezie complains, jumping onto her feet. rafe only rolls his eyes, ignoring his sister, too focused on getting you alone. "so nice to meet you all!" you smile, waving softly as rafe leads you back to his car.

your nerves take over once you're alone in the car again with him, driving out of his estate. "did i do okay?"

"did fuckin' perfect." rafe nods, a devilish grin plastered over his face. his hand squeezing your thigh over your tights. "that mean you can let me go now?" you whisper, lip between your teeth.

"no fucking way."

no way was rafe letting you go now, not ever. he'd had a taste of what he could have with you, he'd be stupid to let that go. you may have played the part a little too well.

© 222col. do not steal or repost my work without permission.

[gf2bellamy]

excitement — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: spencer visits you in your apartment. he doesn't realize penelope is there too. content warnings: secret relationship ? a/n: i haven't had this much fun writing something in ages - garcia is so much fun to write for

Spencer Reid was practically buzzing with excitement. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he walked down the street, clutching a book he'd been waiting months to get his hands on.

But what thrilled him even more than the book itself was where he was headed—and who he was about to see. 

You. 

You were his favorite person in the world, the one who made the chaos of his job and his overactive mind feel calm, centered, and safe.

Tonight, he planned to settle into your cozy apartment, his head in your lap, your fingers combing through his hair, while he read the book he’d ordered ages ago. The thought alone was enough to make his steps quicken. 

Spencer’s long legs carried him up the stairs to your apartment, his mind preoccupied with his excitement to tell you all about his book. When he reached your door, he pulled out the key you'd given him months ago—a small gesture that still warmed his heart whenever he thought about it—and let himself in. 

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he barely registered anything else. Such as Penelope's shoes at the door or her jacket.

A soft hum escaped his lips as he closed the door behind him, kicking it shut gently with his foot. 

Spencer took off his shoes, leaving them by the door , same with his jacket. He moved with a deliberate quietness, tiptoeing toward the kitchen. A soft smile danced on his lips as he peeked around the corner, watching you stand there with your back to him. 

Without hesitation, he stepped closer and slid his arms gently around your waist from behind, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. His touch was warm and familiar, showing how much he had missed you. 

“Hi,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of affection. 

You jumped at the sudden contact, startled, your body going stiff as a flicker of panic surged through you. 

“Spencer, wait—” you started, your voice just above a whisper, but he was gazing at you with that sweet, boyish smile that always made your heart stutter. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his expression soft and utterly oblivious to your alarm. 

You stared at him, momentarily distracted by how happy he looked. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the adoration in his gaze—it made your mind go blank for a second. 

“Hi,” he repeated softly, leaning in to nuzzle his face against your cheek. 

And then it hit you again. Oh, no. 

“Spencer,” you hissed, your voice dropping to a sharp whisper as you heard a faint noise from the other room. 

“What?” he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“Penelope is here,” you whispered urgently, your hands moving to grip his forearms. 

His entire body tensed as the words sank in. “What?” he asked again, his voice an octave higher this time, his expression shifting from confusion to alarm. 

“Yes,” you whispered , glancing nervously toward the living room. “She’s here. She’s in the other room!” 

For a split second, Spencer froze, and you could feel the wave of panic rolling through him. His arms slackened slightly, his gaze darting between you and the doorway.

“You didn’t mention she’d be here tonight!” he whispered back, his voice tinged with borderline panic. 

“I wasn’t expecting you so early!” you shot back, keeping your voice low. 

He stared at you, wide-eyed, and for a moment, you were pretty sure this was one of the rare instances where Spencer Reid was completely speechless.

His mouth opened as if to say something, but nothing came out. 

Another noise from the living room broke the tense silence, and you immediately wriggled out of his touch, your mind racing for a solution. 

“Just say you came to, uh…” you started, your voice trailing off as you tried to conjure up an excuse. 

“Give you a book,” Spencer interjected suddenly, his voice quiet but urgent. He held up the hardcover like it was a golden ticket. “I got the book I told you about. I wanted to read it here, actually.” 

You noticed the way he scratched the back of his head nervously. It was so endearing, your heart ached a little. He’d clearly been looking forward to spending the evening with you. 

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, your lips curling into an apologetic smile as you reached out to brush your fingers lightly against his arm. “I promise, you’ll get to read it soon.” 

“With you,” he added quickly, his eyes meeting yours. 

“With me,” you confirmed, the tenderness in his gaze making you momentarily forget about the storm brewing in the next room. 

And then Penelope’s voice rang out from the living room: 

“Why do you have two toothbrushes in here?” 

Both of you froze. Spencer’s eyes widened comically, and you watched as a flash of panic spread across his face. 

You stifled a laugh, your shoulders shaking slightly at his frantic attempt to keep it together.

Meanwhile, Penelope’s footsteps grew louder. 

“Just… stay calm,” you whispered, biting your lip to keep from giggling outright. “Stay calm?” Spencer whispered back, clutching the book like a shield. “She’s about to start connecting the dots, and you want me to stay calm?” 

Before you could respond, Penelope’s voice cut through the silence once again. 

“I require an answer—” she started, but the rest of her words caught in her throat the moment her eyes landed on Spencer standing there, wide-eyed and awkward. 

“Well, hello there,” she said, her expression shifting into a sly smile as she tilted her head. 

Spencer froze like a deer in headlights, his grip on the book tightening. Meanwhile, you stood rooted to the spot, trying to keep your own expression neutral, though your mind was scrambling for a way to diffuse the situation. 

“I—uh—I came here to drop off a… book,” Spencer stammered, holding up the hardcover like it was an offering of peace. 

Penelope arched an eyebrow, her smile widening as she crossed her arms and leaned against the doorway. “How thoughtful of you, Doctor Reid,” she said, her tone dripping with playful suspicion. “I assume this was a very urgent delivery, considering you brought it over in person and not, you know, gave it to her tomorrow. At work.” 

Spencer blinked, clearly flustered, and glanced at you for help. You, however, couldn’t suppress a small grin as you watched this unfold. 

“It’s, uh… a very special book,” he continued, his voice cracking slightly. “Rare. Hard to find. I thought she’d appreciate it sooner rather than later.” 

Penelope’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she stepped a little closer, clearly enjoying how nervous he was. “Uh-huh,” she said slowly, her gaze flicking between the two of you. “And how long were you planning on staying for this… literary exchange?” 

“Not long!” Spencer blurted out, his voice a bit too loud. “I was just… going to, uh…” 

You bit back a laugh as you saw the panic flood his face. Spencer was completely unraveling under Penelope’s relentless curiosity, and you figured it was time to step in. 

“Pen,” you interrupted, holding up a hand to stop her. “Stop torturing him. He did just come by to drop off a book. Isn’t that right, Spence?” 

“Y-yes,” Spencer stammered, nodding furiously. 

“Perfect,” you said smoothly, placing a hand on his arm and giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Spencer, why don’t you just go put the book in my room?” 

His eyes flicked to yours, and he nodded again, clearly grateful for the lifeline. Without another word, he hurried down the hallway toward your room, clutching the book.

As soon as Spencer disappeared down the hallway, Penelope turned back to you, her grin widening, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes. 

“Spencer is here,” she stated flatly, her smile never wavering. 

“I’m very aware of that,” you replied, giving her a pointed look. You tried your best to keep your composure, but the urge to nervously tap your fingers on the counter was almost overwhelming.Something about Penelope's tone was starting to make you uneasy, and you were unsure of what direction this was going. 

“He’s in your home,” she added again, this time stretching out the words like they were some sort of grand revelation. 

“Pen,” you said slowly, raising an eyebrow as you turned to face her. Your confusion was now shifting into something else.The two cups of tea you’d made earlier sat forgotten on the counter. 

You heard Spencer’s footsteps approaching from the hallway, and as he rounded the corner back into the kitchen, Penelope’s eyes followed him like a hawk, never missing a beat. 

“And he knows where your room is,” she added, her grin spreading wider than ever. 

The words hung in the air for a moment, and you were pretty sure you and Spencer came to the same realization at the exact same time. 

Penelope had caught you. 

Your heart skipped a beat as you watched Spencer freeze mid-step, his expression going blank as his eyes flicked to Penelope, and then back to you. There was no hiding it now. 

You could practically hear the wheels turning in his mind. 

“Penelope” you started, but the words caught in your throat as you tried to process everything in a split second. 

You turned to Spencer, locking eyes with him, silently begging him to help you come up with something—anything that could smooth this over. But Spencer just stood there, wide-eyed and frozen, clearly as baffled as you were.

Before either of you could find an excuse, Penelope let out an ear-piercing screech, making you flinch and almost slap your hands over your ears. 

“Oh my god!” she yelled, practically vibrating with excitement as she realized what your silence meant. She started hopping up and down. “I’m so happy for you!” 

“Penelope—” you tried again, your voice edged with panic, but she wasn’t listening. 

“Oh my god,” she repeated, this time slower, her tone laced with dramatic revelation. Her hand shot out, pointing directly at Spencer like she’d just solved a crime. 

“You!” she exclaimed, her eyes darting back and forth between the two of you. “Do you… live here?” 

You and Spencer both froze, exchanging a quick, panicked glance. Before either of you could deny it, Penelope’s eyes widened. 

“There were two toothbrushes,” she said, gasping like she’d just remembered something crucial. “Oh my god.” Her voice grew louder, each word building with excitement. “You live here!” 

“Penelope, no, it’s not like—” you started, holding your hands out in a desperate attempt to calm her down, but she barreled right over your words. 

“Don’t even try to deny it!” she nearly shouted, spinning around to face Spencer again.

Spencer, who had been awkwardly clutching his book to his chest like a shield, took a small step back as if he could physically escape Penelope’s relentless questioning. “I… I don’t live here,” he stammered weakly, though even he sounded unconvinced. 

Penelope narrowed her eyes at him, a grin still plastered across her face. “Uh-huh. Sure. That’s why there are two toothbrushes in the bathroom. Oh! And don’t think I didn’t notice the extra pair of shoes by the door. Size 10 men’s, Spence!” 

You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead as you felt your face flush with heat. This wasn’t just a confrontation anymore—this was a full-blown exposé. 

Penelope narrowed her eyes at you, her mind clearly racing as she tried to piece everything together. “How long has this been going on? How did I miss this? I mean, I am the queen of observation and gossip, and somehow you two snuck this right under my nose?” She started rambling, her words spilling out faster than either of you could respond. 

You shot a desperate look at Spencer, silently pleading for backup, but he just stood there wide-eyed.

Realizing you were on your own, you sighed and grabbed one of the tea cups sitting on the counter. It was lukewarm at best, but you needed something to focus on before Penelope’s intensity made your head spin. 

“Okay, come on,” you said, cutting through her rambling as gently as you could. You gestured toward the counter and guided her to sit on one of the stools. She followed you without protest, though she kept muttering under her breath, her curiosity clearly not yet satisfied. 

Spencer hovered behind you like an awkward shadow, his book still clutched to his chest like a lifeline. 

Penelope took the tea you handed her, sipping it absentmindedly. Her face scrunched slightly at the taste—it was cold and bitter by now—but she was too busy overthinking to notice or care. 

Spencer leaned down slightly, his lips brushing close to your ear as he whispered, “Is she… okay?” 

You fought back a laugh, biting your lip to suppress the grin that threatened to spread across your face. Tilting your head just enough to glance back at him over your shoulder, you whispered, “I think she’s broken.” 

A soft laugh escaped Spencer, his smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he looked at you, his expression so warm and full of affection that your heart skipped a beat. 

Before you could get lost in the moment, a loud, happy sigh broke the bubble around you both. 

The two of you snapped your attention back to Penelope, who was now sitting with her elbows propped on the counter, her chin resting in her hands as she gazed at you with a dreamy, contented smile. 

“I knew it,” she declared, her voice brimming with satisfaction. “I knew there was something between you two. But this… this is better than anything I could have imagined. It’s like a rom-com came to life right in front of me.”  

Spencer scratched the back of his neck, his face flushing an impressive shade of pink. “I don’t think it’s as dramatic as you’re making it sound,” he said awkwardly. 

Penelope gasped theatrically, pointing a finger at him. “That’s where you’re wrong, Doctor Reid. This is exactly as dramatic as I’m making it sound. I mean, look at you two! It’s disgustingly adorable. I don’t even care that you didn’t tell me sooner. I forgive you, because this—” she gestured wildly between the two of you, “—was worth the wait.” 

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing as Spencer shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsure of how to respond to her enthusiasm. 

“This has been a wonderful night,” she said dramatically, clasping her hands together like she was narrating a fairytale. 

“Penelope,” you said, finally admitting defeat, “you cannot tell anyone.” 

Her expression shifted to an exaggerated pout, her brow furrowing as she looked between you and Spencer. You could feel his hand settle on the small of your back. 

“But why?” she whined, her tone bordering on indignant. “This is huge! People need to know about this. Do you realize how many people on the team have been secretly hoping for this to happen?” 

You sighed, glancing at Spencer for support. He gave you a small shrug, clearly as stumped as you were. 

“It’s… it’s just that we’d prefer to keep this private for now,” you explained, trying to sound firm but gentle. 

“Exactly,” Spencer echoed softly, speaking for the first time since Penelope had pieced everything together. 

Her gaze flicked to him, and for a moment, her excitement dimmed slightly. She studied the two of you, her expression softer now, almost understanding. 

“Okay,” she muttered, though it was clear she wasn’t thrilled. “Fine. I won’t say anything. For now.” 

You let out a small breath of relief, but it was short-lived as she hopped off the counter with a dramatic flourish. “Well, you two lovebirds have a beautiful evening,” she said, her voice sing-songy again as she grabbed her bag. 

“Penelope, hey—wait,” you called after her, guilt creeping in. “You don’t have to leave.” 

She stopped mid-step, turning back to look at you with raised eyebrows. “Oh, I definitely do,” she said, waving a finger in the air. “Because if I stay, I’ll just end up asking a million more questions or texting Derek, and you specifically told me not to do that. So, for the sake of your precious privacy, I’m going to remove myself from the situation.” 

You opened your mouth to protest, but she cut you off with a knowing smile. “It’s fine,” she said softly, her tone genuine now. “I’ll leave you two alone. But just so you know, I’m very happy for you. And I mean that.” 

Spencer gave her a small smile. “Thanks, Penelope.” 

She beamed at him before turning back to you. “Oh, and one more thing—if you two keep this a secret forever, I will be mad. Just putting that out there.” 

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Noted.” 

She practically skipped to the wardrobe by the door. Both you and Spencer followed her, Spencer instinctively reaching for her jacket before she could even ask. 

“Thank you, loverboy,” she said with a teasing lilt as she accepted the jacket from him. Spencer’s ears turned a vivid shade of red, the flush creeping all the way up his neck. 

You couldn’t help but smile at the interaction, the fondness in your expression impossible to hide. Lightly squeezing Spencer’s hand, you felt his fingers tighten around yours in response. 

Penelope caught the moment, her grin widening as she shrugged on her jacket. “Oh, you two are going to kill me with how cute you are. I swear, I’m going to need to schedule a therapy session after this—just to process the sheer amount of joy.” 

As she finished putting on her shoes, she looked up at the two of you, her expression turning more serious. “But really—thank you for letting me in on this, even if it wasn’t exactly intentional.” 

You smiled warmly at her, wanting to make up for the messed up night. “How about we do this tomorrow?” you suggested, hoping to ease her disappointment at cutting the night short. 

Penelope’s eyes lit up instantly. “Oh, yes! I’m going to need all the details. No sparing me the juicy bits, okay?” she said, pointing a playful finger at you. 

“Totally,” you replied with a small laugh, glad to see her mood lift again. 

“Well, I’m off now,” she announced dramatically, stepping toward you with open arms. You hugged her tightly, murmuring another soft, “Sorry,” into her shoulder. 

“Oh, stop that,” she chided gently, pulling back to give you a reassuring smile. Then, turning to Spencer, she reached out to lightly squeeze his arm. “And you,” she added with a teasing grin, “take care of our girl.” 

Spencer flushed, the tips of his ears turning pink, but he managed a small, shy smile. “I will,” he said softly, his voice sincere. 

Satisfied, Penelope gave a little wave as she turned to the door. “Goodnight, lovebirds! And don’t forget—I’m expecting details tomorrow.” 

“Goodnight, Penelope,” you both called after her in unison. 

As soon as the door clicked shut, you and Spencer turned to face each other, locking eyes for a brief moment before bursting into laughter.

“We are so dead,” you said between chuckles, shaking your head. 

“She’s going to tell everyone,” Spencer added, though his tone wasn’t nearly as panicked as before. 

You looked at him, your smile softening as the laughter subsided. “How about you go grab your book?” you suggested, tilting your head toward the hallway. 

Spencer didn’t hesitate. He spun on his heel and practically bolted to your room, moving so quickly it was almost comical. You let out another small chuckle, shaking your head fondly as you made your way to the couch. 

Settling down into your usual spot, you pulled a throw blanket over your legs and adjusted the cushions, making yourself comfortable. Moments later, Spencer returned, his book clutched in one hand. He stood there for a moment, looking at you with a contented smile, as though this quiet, simple moment was all he needed. 

“Come here,” you said gently, patting your lap. 

He didn’t need to be told twice. Spencer crossed the room and settled onto the couch, stretching out and laying his head in your lap. Your fingers found their way to his hair instinctively, weaving through the soft strands in a familiar, soothing motion. 

This was your routine, one you’d both fallen into, it felt like second nature. Spencer opened his book, the faint rustle of the pages filling the quiet space. 

After a few minutes, you broke the quiet. “Are you mad about Pen finding out?” you asked softly, your fingers brushing gently through his hair, pushing back the curls that had fallen into his eyes. 

“What? No,” he replied, tilting his head slightly to look up at you, his gaze full of warmth. 

You smiled at his response, but his curious expression prompted him to ask, “Why? Is it upsetting you?” 

You shook your head, a quiet laugh escaping as you glanced down at him. “No, no. Just a bit worried about how obvious she’s going to be when we get back to work,” you admitted, shifting your gaze to the wall in front of you as your fingers continued their soothing path through his hair. 

Spencer gently touched your wrist, his fingers warm against your skin. “Well, she’s gonna be plenty obvious, but is that really such a bad thing?” he asked, his voice soft but thoughtful. He paused for a moment before adding, “I mean… I wouldn’t mind if they knew about us.” 

His words made you stop for a second, and you looked down at him, your smile widening. “You wouldn’t?” you asked, surprised but clearly pleased by his honesty. 

“No,” he said, his voice quiet. Finally, he met your gaze, and there was a vulnerability in his eyes that made your heart flutter. 

You resumed your gentle motions in his hair, feeling comforted by his sincerity. “Well, in that case,” you murmured, “tell me about your book.” 

And just like that, the shift in conversation had Spencer smiling like a child, his excitement clear as he started to rave about it, his voice animated and his eyes lighting up. You couldn’t help but smile at how easily he could lose himself in something that made him happy. 

You listened intently, absently running your fingers through his hair as he spoke, savoring this little piece of your routine with him.

[021894s]

LOVE NEXT DOOR - p.sh

SUMMARY: After discovering your fiancé’s infidelity, you leave behind the life you’d built in the U.S. and return to Korea to stay with your parents. The familiar streets and faces bring a bittersweet nostalgia, but nothing compares to reuniting with Sunghoon, your childhood best friend. He’s different now—more reserved, maybe a bit colder. While he tries to bury the feelings he thought he’d left in the past, being around you stirs something in him that he can’t ignore. And as you start to find comfort in each other again, you both realize that some feelings never truly fade.

PAIRING: childhood bsf! sunghoon x f!reader

WARNINGS: smut (oral m and f receiving, unprotected sex), angst, denial, mentions of cheating

wc: 20k

You’re not sure what you expected when you walked into your apartment that day. You’d left early for a business trip—an opportunity too good to pass up, even if it meant being away from Daniel for a few days. The wedding was only a month away, and you’d been looking forward to everything finally settling into place. You’d imagined your life with him so many times: your wedding day, the honeymoon, the house you’d live in together, the family you’d build. It was all supposed to be perfect.

But as you pushed open the bedroom door, the world you’d been building shattered.

There they were, tangled in sheets that were meant for the two of you. Daniel's eyes widened in shock, but he didn't even bother scrambling for an excuse. You felt your chest tighten, each heartbeat a hammer against your ribs. For a moment, you stood frozen, every emotion rushing through you all at once—anger, betrayal, disgust, disbelief. The room, filled with their hurried whispers and excuses, began to spin, and you could hardly breathe.

You’d spent countless hours planning your future together, from the lace details on your wedding dress to the way you’d wear your hair. You had been so meticulous, imagining every little moment, every dance, every vow. Now, each of those dreams felt like a cruel joke. The engagement ring on your finger suddenly felt heavy, almost suffocating, a symbol of the love and trust that had been so easily shattered.

You weren’t supposed to be home. The thought lingers as you stand in the doorway, frozen, watching the scene unfold in front of you. Daniel, the man you were supposed to marry in a month, is tangled in your sheets with another woman. His face pales, and he stumbles over himself, trying to sit up, as if there’s any explanation that could possibly make this right.

“Y/N, I can explain,” he starts, throwing on the shirt that had been discarded on the floor. His voice is a mix of desperation and guilt.

“Explain?” you manage, though your throat feels tight, your voice barely a whisper. You feel like you’re in a daze, like this can’t possibly be real. “You’re in our bed, Daniel. The bed where we—” You choke on your words, unable to finish the sentence. Everything you’d built with him, all the dreams and plans, now feel hollow and meaningless.

He takes a step toward you, but you instinctively back away. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It was a mistake, Y/N. Please, just let me—”

“A mistake?” You let out a bitter laugh, the sound foreign even to yourself. “We’re supposed to get married in a month, Daniel. A month! I was planning our wedding while you were—” You stop, shaking your head as the reality of it all starts to sink in. “Did you ever even care about us? About me?”

“Of course I did,” he says, his voice cracking. But there’s a hollowness in his words, one that you can’t unhear now.

“Don’t,” you interrupt, holding up your hand to stop him. “Just… don’t. I trusted you. I thought you loved me.” The weight of the engagement ring on your finger feels unbearable now, as if it’s mocking you, reminding you of every lie he’s ever told. You pull it off and toss it onto the bed, where it lands with a soft thud. “Keep it. I don’t want it anymore.”

He reaches for you, his hand outstretched, but you step back. “Y/N, please, don’t go. We can fix this—”

“Fix this?” You laugh again, the sound almost hysterical. “There’s nothing left to fix, Daniel. You ruined it. You ruined us.” The finality of your words hangs in the air, and for the first time, he seems to understand that this is it. You’re done.

Without another word, you turn and walk out, leaving behind the life you’d once believed in, the future you’d painstakingly planned. And as you step outside into the fresh air, you feel a strange sense of relief mixed with the ache of betrayal. 

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The hotel room is cold and impersonal, nothing like the home you’d shared with him. As you sit on the edge of the bed, you feel the weight of everything crashing down on you. You’re alone, truly alone, in a way you haven’t been since you first moved to the U.S. Daniel was supposed to be your constant, the one person you could rely on in this foreign place. Now, it all feels like a lie.

You clutch a pillow to your chest, trying to hold yourself together as the realization sinks in. You gave up so much to be with him, to build a life together. You left behind friends, family, and a whole world you knew, all for someone who didn’t care enough to stay faithful. The emptiness that fills you is overwhelming, and for the first time in a long time, you feel lost.

The next day, you return to your shared apartment. The place feels different now—tainted, like a ghost of the life you thought you had. You walk through each room, collecting your things in a daze, each item a painful reminder of a future that no longer exists.

In the bedroom, you pause, glancing at the photos on the nightstand. One of them is from the day he proposed, your faces beaming with happiness that now feels so far away. You grab the picture frame and toss it into a box, the glass cracking as it hits the other items. It feels oddly satisfying.

Once you’ve packed everything, you head to work for what you know will be the last time. The office is buzzing with the usual hum of conversations and keyboard clicks, but it all feels distant, like you’re watching it from the outside.

You find your boss in his office, and he looks up as you walk in. “Y/N, I wasn’t expecting you back so soon. How was the trip?”

You force a smile, though it barely reaches your eyes. “The trip was fine, but I need to talk to you about something.”

He senses the seriousness in your tone and gestures for you to sit. “What’s going on?”

Taking a deep breath, you steady yourself. “I’m resigning. Effective immediately.”

He blinks, surprised. “Are you sure? I mean, you have such a promising future here, and—”

“I’m going back to Korea,” you say, cutting him off. “There’s… there’s nothing left for me here.” You swallow hard, fighting back the tears threatening to fall. “I need to go home.”

He nods slowly, seeming to understand that this isn’t just a spur-of-the-moment decision. “I’m sorry to hear that, Y/N. We’ll miss you around here.”

The finality of it all feels like a release, and as you walk out of the office for the last time, you feel a strange mix of sadness and relief. You’re leaving behind everything you’d built, but you’re also walking away from the pain, from the betrayal. It’s time to start over, to find yourself again. And you know exactly where you need to be.

With your suitcases in hand, you leave the apartment, the job, and the life you’d once loved, and head for the airport. This time, you’re going home—for good.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The plane ride back to Korea feels like a dream—a hazy, surreal blur where the reality of what’s happened hasn’t quite caught up with you. You stare out the window, watching as the city below grows closer, the familiar landscape bringing a wave of bittersweet nostalgia. You’re going home, but not for the reasons you ever imagined.

You feel a wave of apprehension mixed with relief. You hadn’t planned on returning home so abruptly, with nothing but a suitcase and a broken heart, and you certainly hadn’t told anyone. You let yourself imagine how surprised your parents will be when you show up at the door unannounced. But you push the thought aside as you step into a cab, the familiar cityscape passing by in a blur.

The familiar street feels almost surreal as you pull up to your parents’ house, the one you haven’t seen in years. After everything that’s happened, this was the only place that felt like it could hold you together. As you step out of the cab and stand in front of the door, the weight of your decision settles over you. 

You take a deep breath and ring the bell. you stand at the door, hesitating. You haven’t been here in so long, and everything looks just as it did before—yet somehow different. The door swings open to reveal your mother’s shocked face.

“Y/N?” she gasps, her hand flying to her mouth. “Is it really you?”

“It’s me, Mom,” you say, managing a small smile as she pulls you into a tight hug. 

“Oh, honey!” She squeezes you, almost as if to make sure you’re real, then steps back, looking you over with a mixture of joy and worry. “What are you doing here? We didn’t know you were coming!”

“I know. I wanted it to be a surprise.” You look over her shoulder to see your father standing in the doorway, his expression just as bewildered.

“Well, come in, come in!” Your mother ushers you inside, closing the door behind you. Your father wraps you in a quick hug, his grip firm but gentle.

“What brings you back home so suddenly?” he asks, his voice tinged with concern. “We thought you’d be busy with wedding plans.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you keep your expression steady. “Yeah… I just needed to get away for a bit. I missed you both.”

Your mother gives you a searching look, sensing there’s more to the story. “But your wedding is only a month away. Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “Daniel and I decided to take a break. I just needed some space to think, so I thought it’d be nice to come home for a while.”

Your parents exchange glances, their worry deepening. “A break?” your father echoes. “This close to the wedding?”

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself against the wave of emotion that threatens to break through. “Yeah, it was a last-minute decision. But I promise, it’s nothing to worry about. I just… needed to clear my head.”

Your mother reaches out and takes your hand, her grip warm and reassuring. “We’re here for you, sweetheart. You know that, right?”

“I know.” You squeeze her hand, grateful for their presence. “I just needed to be here. With you.”

Your father nods, his expression softening. “Well, you’re always welcome here. For as long as you need.”

 They settle into the familiar rhythm of conversation, asking about your flight and your plans, you find a small sense of comfort in their voices. But beneath it all, you can feel the questions they aren’t asking, the truths you’re not yet ready to share. For now, you let their warmth surround you, clinging to it like a lifeline in the storm you’re still navigating alone.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

As the night settles in, you find yourself standing in the doorway of your childhood bedroom, heart pounding. It feels both familiar and foreign, the walls adorned with posters of your teenage dreams and the desk still cluttered with relics of late-night study sessions. You push the door open, stepping inside and allowing the memories to wash over you. 

The bed is made, just as you left it all those years ago, with the comforter patterned in pastel colors and stuffed animals peeking out from under the pillows. You take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your childhood—the faint hint of lavender air freshener mixed with the familiar aroma of old books. It’s comforting and painful all at once.

You sit on the edge of the bed, your mind drifts back to nights spent cramming for exams, the soft glow of the desk lamp illuminating pages of notes and textbooks. You remember laughing with your friends during late-night study sessions, the sound of their voices filling the air as you all shared dreams and plans for the future. Those were simpler times, before life became a tangled web of expectations and disappointments.

With each memory, a wave of nostalgia crashes over you, but the pain of your recent reality looms just beneath the surface. You can almost hear the echoes of your younger self, confident and excited about the future. Now, you feel like a shadow of that person, haunted by the weight of betrayal.

You shake your head, forcing a smile as you pull out your pajamas from your suitcase. No sense in dwelling on the past. You need to maintain the strong front you’ve put on for your parents. They deserve to see you as the daughter who’s come home, not the girl whose world has crumbled in a matter of weeks.

As you change into your pajamas, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror—your eyes tired and a hint of sadness in your smile. But you quickly brush it aside, reminding yourself that you can’t let them see how vulnerable you feel. Your parents have already expressed their concerns; you can’t burden them with the truth just yet. You don’t want to break their hearts with the reality of why you’re here.

Slipping under the covers, you take a moment to appreciate the softness of the sheets, the way they wrap around you like a warm embrace. You lie back, staring at the ceiling, and allow your thoughts to wander. You think of Daniel, of the way everything fell apart so quickly, and the ache in your chest sharpens. But you breathe through it, determined not to let the tears spill over.

Instead, you focus on the memories that fill this room, allowing yourself a brief moment of comfort before the darkness creeps back in. You can hear your mother’s soft footsteps in the hallway, her gentle voice drifting through the walls as she chats with your father. They’re worried about you, and you know it. But you refuse to let them see the cracks in your facade. 

You close your eyes, the past and present collide in a whirlwind of emotion, but you push the chaos aside, seeking solace in the familiarity of your childhood sanctuary. Here, in this room, you can hold on to the illusion of safety, if only for a little while longer.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The next morning, you wake up to the smell of something familiar—your mother’s cooking. For a moment, you let yourself enjoy the simplicity of it, the warmth of home wrapping around you like a blanket. You push back the covers and head downstairs, where you find her bustling around the kitchen, setting the table like she used to when you were in high school.

“Good morning,” she says brightly as she sees you, her smile wide and welcoming. “I made your favorite—jeon and kimchi jjigae. Figured you could use a nice breakfast after that long flight.”

“Thanks, Mom.” You slide into a chair at the table, the normalcy of the moment grounding you. It’s almost like the old days when everything was so simple—just you, your parents, and a quiet morning before the day truly began.

She sets a plate down in front of you, the scene feels like something out of the past. The kitchen hasn’t changed, with the same floral curtains and the light clinking of dishes filling the quiet space. It’s peaceful, almost enough to make you forget why you’re back.

You both fall into an easy conversation—talking about small things like the weather, what’s been happening in the neighborhood, and her latest gardening projects. She doesn’t press about Daniel or the wedding, and you’re thankful for the reprieve. You’re determined to keep up this front, to act like everything’s fine, at least for now.

Just as you start to relax into the conversation, the front door flies open with a loud bang, and a familiar voice cuts through the morning calm.

“Y/N!”

You look up just as Yeji storms into the kitchen, her expression a mix of excitement and disbelief.

“How could you not tell me you were coming back?” she demands, standing with her hands on her hips as she glares at you in mock offense. “I had to hear it from our mom’s call this morning! Do you know how betrayed I feel right now?”

You blink in surprise, a guilty smile tugging at your lips. “Yeji, I—”

“Unbelievable,” she cuts you off, shaking her head. “I thought we were best friends! You’re lucky I love you.”

She strides over and pulls you into a tight hug before you can finish your sentence. You laugh softly, hugging her back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t tell anyone. It was a last-minute thing.”

Yeji pulls away and gives you a playful glare. “You owe me, big time.”

Your mother, who has been watching this entire exchange with an amused smile, shakes her head. “I told her she should’ve called you first,” she teases, glancing between the two of you.

Yeji crosses her arms, looking at you expectantly. “Well, you’re here now, so spill. What’s going on? Why the sudden return?”

You feel the weight of her question hang in the air, but before you can figure out how to answer, your mom steps in.

“Let her eat first, Yeji,” she chides gently. “She just got here yesterday.”

Yeji grumbles, taking a seat next to you with a dramatic sigh. “Fine. But after breakfast, you better be ready to talk. No way you’re getting out of this.”

You smile, feeling the warmth of her friendship wrap around you, even as you dread the inevitable questions. For now, though, you focus on the food in front of you, allowing the conversation to flow around you like it used to—just another morning in the house where everything was simple.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

“Im heading to the market to get stuff I need for tonight’s dinner. I’ll be back in a little,” Your mom tells you, walking out the door and closing it behind her.

Yeji narrows her eyes, tapping her fingers on the table. “Okay, Y/N. Enough stalling. Why are you really back? This close to the wedding? What’s going on with you and Daniel?”

You feel your stomach tighten, but you keep your face neutral, cutting a piece of pancake as if her question hasn’t hit you like a punch to the gut. “I told you, I just wanted to visit. I missed everyone.”

Yeji isn’t convinced. “Y/N, don’t give me that. You didn’t even tell me you were coming back, and you’re usually texting me about every little thing. Now you show up out of nowhere, and we’re supposed to believe this is just a friendly visit?”

You meet her gaze, your heart pounding, but you force yourself to stay calm. “It is. There’s nothing else to it.”

She raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Come on. You and I both know something’s up. Was there a fight? Did Daniel do something?”

You shake your head quickly. “Yeji, really. I just needed a break. That’s all.”

Yeji stares at you for a moment longer, waiting for you to crack, but when you don’t, she throws her hands up in defeat. “Fine. Keep your secrets. But mark my words, I’ll get it out of you one way or another.”

You breathe a silent sigh of relief as she finally drops the topic. You’re not ready to talk about Daniel, or the betrayal that shattered everything. Not yet.

Yeji leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Anyway, speaking of things you haven’t told me… have you seen Sunghoon yet?”

The question takes you off guard, and you look at her, surprised. “Sunghoon?”

“Yeah,” Yeji says, eyeing you with a knowing smirk. “Your other childhood bestie? The one who’s still very much around? He lives next door, you know.”

You fidget with your fork, feeling an odd mix of emotions stir at the mention of his name. “No, I haven’t seen him yet.”

Yeji tilts her head. “Really? You’ve been here since yesterday and haven’t run into him? That’s weird. He’s practically part of your family.”

You shrug, trying to appear indifferent. “I got in late, and I’ve been busy with unpacking. It’s not that surprising.”

Yeji chuckles. “He’s going to be so mad you didn’t tell him you were coming back either. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Y/N.”

You manage a small laugh, though the thought of seeing Sunghoon after all these years sends a small flutter of anxiety through you. Things with him had always been comfortable, easy, but after so long apart, you’re not sure what to expect. And after everything that’s happened with Daniel, the idea of facing someone who knows you so well feels almost too raw.

“Well, good luck with that,” Yeji says, giving you a teasing smile. “You know how he is. He’s probably going to give you the cold shoulder for a bit.”

You force a grin, though you’re already dreading the inevitable reunion. “Yeah. I guess I’ll deal with that when it happens.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Later that afternoon, feeling a bit restless from being inside all morning, you decide to take a walk to the nearby convenience store. The air is crisp and cool, and the quiet hum of the neighborhood feels calming. It’s the kind of peace you missed during your years abroad, and for a moment, you let yourself relax, letting the familiar surroundings ease your mind.

As you approach the store, lost in thought, you nearly bump into someone coming out. You step back, about to apologize, when you realize who it is. Sunghoon.

Your heart stutters in your chest as you take in the sight of him. He looks the same, yet somehow different. Taller, more mature. His dark hair falls slightly over his eyes, and he’s dressed casually in a hoodie and jeans, holding a bag of snacks in one hand. But it’s his expression that catches you off guard—cool, almost indifferent, as his eyes meet yours.

“Sunghoon?” you say, trying to mask the awkwardness creeping into your voice. “I didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

He blinks, a brief flicker of surprise crossing his face before it quickly fades into something more guarded. “Y/N,” he says, his tone even. “I heard you were back.”

There’s no warmth in his voice, no hint of the familiarity you used to share. The coldness of his reaction makes your stomach drop, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say.

“Yeah… I came back yesterday.” You offer a small, tentative smile, hoping to ease the tension. “It was kind of a last-minute thing.”

Sunghoon nods, but his expression doesn’t change. “I figured.”

You stand there awkwardly, the weight of the unspoken tension between you heavier than you expected. This wasn’t how you thought it would go. He used to be one of your closest friends, someone you could talk to about anything. Now, it feels like you’re standing in front of a stranger.

“Have you been okay?” you ask, trying to bridge the gap between you.

“Yeah, I’ve been fine.” His answer is short, clipped, as if he’s not interested in small talk.

The coldness in his voice stings, and you can’t help but wonder if your sudden disappearance all those years ago had more of an impact on him than you realized. “It’s good to see you,” you offer, even though you’re not sure if it’s true anymore. “I’ve missed everyone.”

“Right.” He looks past you, as if already ready to leave. “Well, welcome back.”

That’s it? No questions, no catching up, just… this? You feel your chest tighten, the conversation feeling colder by the second. 

“Thanks,” you manage to say, trying not to let his aloofness get to you. “I guess I’ll see you around?”

Sunghoon shrugs, his expression unreadable. “Maybe.” 

With that, he steps past you, walking away without another word, leaving you standing there, feeling strangely hollow. You watch him go, the distance between you now more than just physical. It’s like there’s a wall where there used to be a connection, and you’re not sure how—or if—you’ll ever break through it again.

After your brief and awkward run-in with Sunghoon, you continue into the convenience store, your thoughts swirling. The encounter had left you unsettled—more than you wanted to admit. You’d expected maybe a little awkwardness after all these years, but not this cold, indifferent version of Sunghoon. The Sunghoon you remembered was always warm, protective, quick to tease you. Now, it felt like he couldn’t care less that you were back.

You absentmindedly browse the aisles, picking up a few snacks and bottled water, you replay the conversation in your head. Every curt response, every emotionless glance. Was he mad? Hurt? Or had he just moved on with his life so much that your return didn’t even register? You didn’t expect everything to fall back into place after so many years, but you certainly didn’t expect this.

You make your way to the counter, trying to push the thoughts away. Maybe it’s better not to overthink it. You’ve only been back for a day—things might take time to feel normal again. Or maybe you’ve just been gone too long.

The cashier rings up your items, and you pay before stepping back outside into the cool autumn air. The sky is a soft gray, and a slight breeze carries the scent of falling leaves, a reminder that some things, at least, remain the same.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

On your way back home, your mind drifts to everything that’s happened in the last few days. You’d been so focused on escaping Daniel, on putting distance between you and the life you’d built with him in the U.S., that you hadn’t really prepared yourself for how different everything might be back here. 

You shake your head. This wasn’t the time to spiral. One thing at a time.

When you reach your house, you feel a bit lighter, the familiarity of home giving you a sense of stability. As you open the door and step inside, your mother is in the living room, flipping through a magazine.

“Hey, sweetie,” she greets with a smile, glancing up at you. “Did you get what you needed?”

“Yeah, just a few things,” you reply, holding up the bag. “Thought I’d take a walk.”

“Good. It’s nice to have you back home.” She pats the seat next to her on the couch, and you sit down, the warmth of the house and her presence comforting.

You try to focus on the moment, pushing aside the confusing encounter with Sunghoon for now. But it lingers in the back of your mind, like an unresolved thread, tugging at you no matter how hard you try to ignore it.

One day at a time, you remind yourself. You came back to Korea to heal. Whatever happens with Sunghoon—or anything else—will have to wait.

As you settle into the couch next to your mom, you finally let yourself relax a little. The warmth of the house, the quiet rhythm of the afternoon—it almost feels normal. But as you sit there, your mom glances at you with a casual smile, one that makes you wary.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” she says, flipping the magazine shut. “Sunghoon and his parents are coming over for dinner tonight.”

You freeze, your fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the couch. “What?”

“Yeah,” your mom continues, completely unaware of the tension that suddenly grips you. “I’ve been meaning to invite them over, and I thought it’d be nice to have a little family dinner now that you’re back. You know how close we are with them.”

Your mind races. You had barely survived your run-in with Sunghoon at the convenience store, and now you were supposed to sit through an entire dinner with him? After how cold and distant he’d been? The thought alone makes your stomach twist.

“Tonight?” you ask, trying to keep your voice even.

“Mm-hmm,” your mom says, already getting up to head toward the kitchen. “I’m going to start prepping soon. It’ll be fun, don’t you think? Just like old times.”

Fun wasn’t exactly the word you’d use. “Mom, I—”

Before you can come up with an excuse, she’s already busy listing out dishes. “I was thinking we’d do something simple. Maybe some bulgogi, kimchi, a few side dishes. Oh, and that japchae you love. Sunghoon always liked that, too.”

You rub your temples, feeling the weight of the situation settle on your shoulders. There was no getting out of this. Your mom had clearly put thought into this dinner, and after being away for so long, you didn’t have the heart to tell her no.

“Yeah… sounds great,” you manage to say, though your enthusiasm is clearly lacking.

“Perfect! I’ll get started now. Why don’t you help me later with the table?” she says cheerfully, disappearing into the kitchen.

You sit there, trying to wrap your mind around the fact that in just a few hours, you’ll be sitting across from Sunghoon at dinner—awkward silences, tense glances, and all. You’d thought you could avoid him for a while, at least until you figured out how to talk to him, but it seems the universe had other plans.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Dinner time arrives faster than you’d hoped, and the pit in your stomach grows heavier with each passing minute. You spent the last hour helping your mom set the table, the familiar routine of laying out chopsticks and plates doing little to calm your nerves. Every time you hear a sound outside, your heart jumps, anticipating their arrival.

Finally, there’s a knock at the door, followed by your father’s cheerful voice as he greets Sunghoon and his parents. You force a steadying breath, bracing yourself for the inevitable as they step inside.

“Come in, come in,” your mom calls from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel as she moves to greet them.

You stay rooted by the table, trying not to let your unease show. When you glance up, your eyes meet Sunghoon’s. His face is impassive, and though his parents are all smiles, he barely acknowledges you beyond a polite nod.

“Y/N,” his mother beams, walking over to give you a warm hug. “It’s so wonderful to see you back home! You look so grown-up. How long has it been?”

You muster a smile as you hug her back. “It’s been a while, yeah. I’ve missed being here.”

Sunghoon’s dad shakes your hand with a broad smile. “You were always such a good kid. Your parents must be thrilled to have you back.”

You nod, trying to keep the conversation light as you exchange pleasantries with Sunghoon’s parents. Meanwhile, Sunghoon himself stands near the doorway, hands in his pockets, looking anywhere but at you. The coldness from earlier lingers between you, thick and uncomfortable.

Your mom ushers everyone to the dining table, her excitement palpable as she serves the food. “Let’s all sit! It’s so nice to have everyone together again.”

You find yourself seated across from Sunghoon, who remains quiet as the meal begins. His parents chat easily with your parents, exchanging updates on family matters and local gossip. You try to join in, but it’s hard to focus when you can feel Sunghoon’s presence directly in front of you, the weight of his silence pressing down.

At one point, his father glances at you, his smile genuine. “So, Y/N, how long are you planning to stay? I’m sure you’ve got a busy life back in the States, with the wedding and all.”

You freeze, the mention of the wedding making your chest tighten. You’d hoped it wouldn’t come up, but of course, it was inevitable. All eyes turn to you, and you feel Sunghoon’s gaze on you now, sharp and watchful.

“Oh… I’m not sure yet,” you answer, trying to keep your voice steady. “I haven’t really figured everything out.”

His mother looks over, curious. “Aren’t you worried about the wedding? It’s only a month away, right?”

You swallow hard, avoiding Sunghoon’s gaze, which feels like a dagger from across the table. “I… I decided to take some time off. You know, to clear my head before everything gets hectic.”

Your parents exchange glances but don’t press further, sensing that there’s more to the story than you’re letting on. Sunghoon’s mother, however, isn’t as easily deterred.

“Well, I’m sure Daniel’s missing you terribly,” she says with a laugh, clearly unaware of the tension her words cause. “You two must be so excited about the big day!”

You feel your throat tighten, your fingers gripping the edge of your plate. Before you can figure out how to respond, Sunghoon finally speaks.

“Maybe we should give Y/N a break,” he says, his tone low but unmistakably cold. “She just got back. No need to bombard her with questions about her wedding.”

Everyone goes silent for a moment, the shift in his tone catching them off guard. You glance up, surprised by his sudden defense of you, but when your eyes meet, his expression remains unreadable. 

His mother blinks, a bit flustered. “Oh, of course. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine,” you say quickly, trying to smooth over the tension. “Really. I just needed some time to think.”

Your father clears his throat, steering the conversation to a different topic, but the air remains thick with unspoken words. As dinner continues, you can’t help but glance at Sunghoon, who stays quiet for the rest of the meal, his face hard, distant.

By the time dessert rolls around, you’re exhausted from keeping up the act. You want nothing more than to escape this table, to be anywhere but here, trapped between old memories and the unresolved tension that hangs over everything like a storm cloud.

Sunghoon may have spoken up for you, but the chill in his demeanor tells you everything you need to know—he hasn’t forgiven you for leaving, and this dinner is just the beginning of whatever complicated mess lies ahead.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

After dinner, the weight of the evening presses on your chest, and you feel the overwhelming need for space—somewhere away from the questions, the tension, and the relentless memories. Your parents chat casually in the living room with Sunghoon’s parents, but their laughter feels distant, like you’re no longer part of it. Excusing yourself quietly, you slip out of the house, letting the cool night air hit your skin as you walk down the quiet, familiar streets.

You find yourself heading to the park where you, Sunghoon, and Yeji used to play as kids. The old swings, the jungle gym, even the worn-out slide—it’s all still there, untouched by time. The memories of those carefree days flood back, bittersweet in their simplicity. You push down the ache in your chest and sit on one of the swings, the creak of the chains loud in the stillness of the night.

The moon hangs low, casting a pale glow over the empty park. You let yourself swing gently, the motion soothing, but your thoughts are anything but calm. Everything is swirling—Daniel, the wedding that won’t happen, your sudden return home, and the wall Sunghoon’s built between you since the moment you saw him again.

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t hear him approach until he’s already there. The soft crunch of his footsteps on the gravel pulls you from your reverie, and you glance to your side, startled to see Sunghoon standing there, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t say anything at first, just looks at you for a moment before settling onto the swing next to you.

For a long while, neither of you speaks. The silence stretches between you, thick and uncomfortable, but somehow familiar—like the many quiet nights you’d spent together here as kids. Back then, silence was easy. Now, it’s loaded with everything you haven’t said, everything that’s changed.

Finally, you break the quiet, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think you’d follow me.”

Sunghoon doesn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on the ground as he kicks at the dirt with his shoe. “I didn’t think I would either,” he admits, his voice flat. “But here I am.”

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, trying to gauge his mood. The coldness from earlier lingers in the air between you, but there’s something else too—something softer, more hesitant, like he’s struggling with whatever’s on his mind.

The gentle creak of the swings is the only sound for a few more moments, until he finally speaks again, his tone low and distant. “You left,” he says, his words simple but heavy. “No warning. No goodbyes.”

Your stomach twists at the accusation, but you can’t deny it. “I know,” you say quietly, gripping the chains of the swing a little tighter. “I’m sorry.”

He lets out a small, bitter laugh. “Yeah, well, that doesn’t exactly change anything, does it?”

You wince, the sharp edge in his voice cutting deeper than you expected. “Sunghoon, I didn’t mean to just disappear. Things were… complicated.”

“Complicated?” He finally turns to look at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You couldn’t have called? Texted? I had to hear from my parents that you were moving to the U.S. And now, after years of nothing, you just show up out of nowhere, acting like everything’s fine?”

You bite your lip, the guilt weighing heavily on you. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… I needed to get away. From everything. And then… life happened.”

Sunghoon shakes his head, his jaw clenching. “You’re always running away, Y/N. You did it back then, and now you’re doing it again. What happened with Daniel? Did he screw up, and now you’re back here hiding?”

His words strike a nerve, and you feel your chest tighten. “It’s not like that,” you say defensively, though a part of you wonders if he’s right. 

“Isn’t it?” he presses, his voice sharp. “You’re back here, pretending everything’s okay when clearly, it’s not.”

You turn away, the pain and frustration bubbling up inside you. “You don’t know what I’ve been through, Sunghoon. It’s not that simple.”

For a moment, he stays silent, the tension between you thick and suffocating. Then, he sighs, the anger seeming to drain out of him. “You’re right. I don’t know. Because you never told me.”

You look over at him, and for the first time since you’ve been back, you see something in his eyes that isn’t coldness or anger—just hurt. The years you’ve spent apart, the silence between you—it’s all built up into this wall that neither of you knows how to tear down.

“I didn’t mean for it to be like this,” you whisper, the weight of the years catching up to you. “I just… I needed to figure things out. And now, I don’t know how to fix it.”

Sunghoon looks away, his expression softening, though the hurt still lingers. “Maybe it’s not about fixing things,” he says quietly. “Maybe it’s just about being honest. With me. With yourself.”

You don’t know how to respond, the truth of his words settling heavily on your chest. The silence returns, but this time it feels different—not as cold, not as distant. You both sit there, side by side, swinging gently in the cool night air, the echoes of your childhood swirling around you.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The walk back home from the park is quiet, but it’s a different kind of silence now—less charged, more reflective. Sunghoon walks beside you, his hands in his pockets, and though neither of you speaks, there’s a tentative sense of peace settling between you.

The night air feels lighter as you near your house, and you glance over at him, wondering if this fragile understanding between you will last. Just as you’re about to say something, you hear it—a voice calling your name from across the street. 

“Y/N!”

You freeze, your heart skipping a beat at the sound of Daniel’s voice. It’s impossible. He shouldn’t be here. Slowly, you turn, and there he is, standing under a streetlight, his face a mixture of desperation and determination.

“Y/N, wait!” he calls again, hurrying toward you, his voice strained with urgency.

You can feel your blood run cold as he approaches. Sunghoon stiffens beside you, his gaze hardening the moment he sees Daniel. You swallow, taking an instinctive step back, every muscle in your body tensing as the man you’d left behind in the U.S. closes the distance between you.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you manage, your voice shaking with equal parts disbelief and anger.

Daniel’s eyes are pleading, his hands reaching out like he’s trying to reel you back in. “I came to find you. To explain everything. I messed up, Y/N, but we can fix this. You can’t just run away like this.”

Sunghoon moves slightly closer to you, his presence a shield as you stand frozen, trying to process the surreal scene unfolding in front of you. The front door to your house swings open, and your parents step out, concern etched across their faces. They must have heard the commotion from inside.

“Y/N? What’s going on out here?” your mother asks, her gaze moving between you, Daniel, and Sunghoon. Your father follows, frowning deeply as he takes in the scene.

Daniel seems to seize the moment, stepping toward you again. “I made a mistake, okay? I know I hurt you, but we can work this out. We were so close to the wedding, Y/N. Don’t throw it all away because of one mistake.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, the weight of the betrayal crashing down on you all over again. Your mother’s eyes widen as she glances between the two of you. “What… mistake?” she asks slowly, her voice tight with worry.

You don’t want to say it. You don’t want to admit it in front of your parents, in front of Sunghoon, but the truth is too heavy to keep inside any longer. You take a deep breath, your voice trembling as the words finally spill out.

“He cheated,” you say, your voice breaking slightly. “With someone else. That’s why I left.”

The air seems to freeze around you. Your mother gasps, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. Your father’s expression hardens, his eyes narrowing as he stares at Daniel. And Sunghoon… Sunghoon’s fists clench at his sides, the barely restrained anger radiating off him in waves.

“How dare you?” your father’s voice is like steel, cold and furious. “How dare you come here after what you’ve done?”

Daniel takes a step back, looking genuinely shaken by the fury directed at him. “It was a mistake,” he insists, his voice desperate. “It didn’t mean anything. I love Y/N, and we’re supposed to be getting married. I just—I want to fix things.”

Your mother, usually calm and collected, is trembling with emotion. “You think you can fix this?” she demands, her voice rising. “After what you’ve done to her? After breaking her heart like this?”

You feel Sunghoon’s hand on your arm, a silent gesture of support as everything unfolds around you. His voice is low, but every word drips with barely controlled fury. “You think you can just show up here and make everything better? She doesn’t need you anymore. Get lost.”

“Stay out of this. It’s none of your business.” Daniel tells sunghoon, his jaw clenching at the sight of him pleading for forgiveness.

Daniel looks between you and your parents, his panic growing. “Y/N, please,” he pleads. “We’ve been through so much together. You can’t just-

Your father steps forward now, his voice firm and filled with authority. “Get off my property,” he says, his eyes narrowing as he stares down Daniel. “You’ve done enough damage.”

Daniel looks panicked, his desperation clear as he looks at you one last time. “Y/N—”

“Go,” you say quietly, your voice steady despite the turmoil in your heart. “Just… go.”

Sunghoon is still fuming beside you, but he doesn’t move. He waits, fists clenched, as Daniel hesitates for a moment longer before finally turning and walking back down the street. His footsteps fade into the night, leaving behind an unbearable silence.

Your parents stand by the door, your mother’s hand on your father’s arm as they watch you carefully. Sunghoon stands stiffly beside you, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“I’m so sorry you had to find out like this,” you murmur, mostly to Sunghoon. He turns to look at you, his expression softening ever so slightly. There’s still anger in his eyes, but beneath it, you see something else—concern, hurt, maybe even guilt for not knowing sooner.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his voice low, but there’s no accusation in his tone. Just quiet frustration and sadness.

You swallow hard, the weight of everything finally hitting you. “I didn’t want anyone to know,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I couldn’t.”

Sunghoon’s gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he finally lets out a slow breath. He doesn’t say anything, but the tension between you begins to ease. Slowly, the weight on your chest starts to lift, even if only a little.

As the tense moment begins to settle, your parents usher everyone back inside, their expressions a mix of concern and disbelief. Sunghoon follows you quietly, his usual confident demeanor replaced by a somber silence. Inside, the atmosphere is heavy with unspoken words and lingering shock from Daniel's unexpected visit.

Your mother offers tea, her hands trembling slightly as she pours, trying to find some semblance of normalcy in the midst of the chaos. Sunghoon remains quiet, his eyes fixed on his tea as he sits opposite you at the kitchen table. The air feels charged with unresolved tension, each passing second stretching the fragile peace thinner.

“I can’t believe he had the audacity to show up here,” your father finally breaks the silence, his voice rough with suppressed anger. “After what he did to you.”

You nod silently, unable to find the words to explain or justify Daniel’s actions. The betrayal still feels fresh, the wound reopened by his sudden appearance.

Sunghoon finally speaks, his voice calm but tinged with an edge you can’t quite place. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His eyes meet yours, searching for answers. “You could have… I could have helped.”

You swallow hard, the guilt weighing heavily on you. “I didn’t want to burden anyone,” you admit quietly. “And I didn’t want you to hate me.”

Sunghoon’s expression softens slightly, a flicker of understanding crossing his features. “I could never hate you,” he says softly, his gaze unwavering. “But I hate seeing you hurt.”

Your heart clenches at his words, a mixture of relief and sadness washing over you. “I’m sorry,” is all you manage to say, the weight of your emotions threatening to spill over.

Your mother places a gentle hand on your shoulder, offering silent comfort. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to apologize,” she says softly, her eyes filled with maternal concern. “We’re just glad you’re home now.”

The tears you’d been holding back finally spill over, and you let out a shaky breath. “I just… I needed to come back,” you admit, the truth finally surfacing. “Everything fell apart, and I didn’t know where else to go.”

Sunghoon reaches across the table, his hand hesitating for a moment before gently covering yours. His touch is warm and reassuring, grounding you in the midst of turmoil. “You’re home now,” he says quietly, his voice steady. “And we’re here for you.”

You nod gratefully, overwhelmed by the support of your family and the unexpected comfort from Sunghoon. Despite everything, a sense of relief washes over you—the first glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, you can begin to heal.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The evening wears on, the tension gradually easing as conversations shift from the shock of Daniel’s visit to lighter topics. Your parents share stories of neighbors and friends, trying to lighten the mood, while Sunghoon remains by your side, a silent presence that speaks volumes.

As the night draws to a close, you find yourself standing at the front door with Sunghoon, the faint glow of streetlights casting shadows around you. He looks at you, his eyes soft with unspoken understanding.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, breaking the silence between you. “For everything.”

Sunghoon offers a small smile, his hand brushing yours briefly. “You don’t have to thank me,” he replies gently. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You take a deep breath, the weight on your shoulders a little lighter than before. “I think I’m going to be,” you admit, a tentative smile tugging at your lips.

Sunghoon’s smile widens slightly, a hint of relief in his eyes. “Good,” he says softly. “And if you ever need anything… I’m just a phone call away.. I’m also right next door.”

With a small smile, he turns to leave, and you watch him disappear into his house, a sense of gratitude filling your heart. As you close the door behind you and lean against it, you realize that while things may still be uncertain, you’re not facing them alone anymore. And for now, that’s enough.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Over the next few weeks, life began to settle into a routine, the shock of your sudden return starting to fade into the background. Each day, you found yourself easing back into the rhythm of your old life in ways you hadn’t expected. It was strange at first, being in your childhood home again, but soon it began to feel familiar—comforting, even. The late-night conversations with your mom, your dad’s predictable quips over breakfast, the peaceful quiet of your small neighborhood.

And then, there was Sunghoon.

At first, things between you remained cautious and quiet, both of you still navigating the unfamiliar territory of this new chapter in your lives. But bit by bit, as the days passed, the invisible walls that had sprung up between you began to crumble.

It started small. A casual conversation as you bumped into each other outside, a shared glance when you both found yourselves at the convenience store at the same time. Each interaction felt like a tentative step back toward something you thought was lost.

You had always been able to talk to Sunghoon so easily, and it wasn’t long before the old rhythm between you began to resurface. The awkward tension that had once hung over you melted away, replaced by the comfortable ease you’d always shared. Whether it was a quick coffee at the café you used to frequent as teenagers, or the impromptu walks around the neighborhood, it felt like the years apart had never happened. The quiet moments spent together became familiar again, and with them came a warmth you hadn’t realized you missed.

One afternoon, you were both sitting in the park where you used to spend hours as kids, watching the leaves fall as autumn began to set in. Sunghoon glanced over at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Remember when we used to race to see who could swing the highest?” he asked, his tone light but nostalgic.

You laughed, nodding as memories of your childhood flooded back. “You always won. I swear you had superpowers or something.”

He chuckled softly, his gaze shifting to the old swingset. “I wasn’t that fast. You were just slow.”

You nudged him playfully, rolling your eyes. “Says the guy who fell off the monkey bars twice trying to impress Yeji.”

Sunghoon winced dramatically, rubbing the back of his neck as if the memory still stung. “Yeah, well… not one of my finer moments.”

Moments like these became more frequent. The playful banter, the shared laughs, the easy way you slipped back into each other’s lives—it all felt natural, as if no time had passed. And with each passing day, the bond between you grew stronger, echoing the closeness you had once shared as children.

Some days, you’d find yourselves sitting on the porch steps of your house, talking until the sun dipped below the horizon. Other days, you’d meet up for late-night snacks at the convenience store, a habit that reminded you of your carefree teenage days.

But it wasn’t just about the nostalgia or the familiarity. There was something deeper now, something unspoken but present in the way he looked at you or the way his gaze lingered a little longer than before. It was subtle, but undeniable.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

One evening, as you both sat under the stars in your backyard, Sunghoon turned to you, his expression thoughtful. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” he said quietly.

You looked at him, curious. “What is?”

He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged lightly. “How everything changes but somehow stays the same.”

You knew what he meant. The years had changed both of you, but sitting there with him, it felt like you were slipping back into the simplicity of what you had before—before life got complicated, before you’d left, before everything.

“Yeah,” you agreed softly. “But in a good way.”

He smiled at that, his gaze meeting yours for a brief, charged moment. “In a good way,” he repeated quietly.

And just like that, the past weeks had brought you closer to him again. It felt like the Sunghoon you knew—your childhood best friend—was back in your life, but with something more layered beneath the surface now. The bond you shared had always been special, but as the days passed, you began to realize it wasn’t just about the past. It was about the present, about where you were both headed next.

Little by little, it felt like old times, but it also felt like something new was beginning to bloom between you. Something you weren’t ready to name yet, but couldn’t deny.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Sunghoon had always been good at hiding his feelings. Through all the years of friendship, he kept his crush buried deep, tucked away in the corners of his heart. It was easier that way. You had always been oblivious to it, lost in your own world of school, dreams, and later, the whirlwind of your life in the U.S. But now, with you back in his life after years apart, those old, buried feelings were starting to resurface, no matter how hard he tried to keep them at bay.

He remembered high school all too well. You were both juniors, sitting together at the school library late into the evening, pretending to study but really just talking about everything and nothing. He’d watch you as you rambled on about whatever topic had captured your interest that day, completely unaware of the way his gaze would linger on your face, his heart doing that stupid fluttering thing whenever you laughed.

He could still recall one particular moment as clear as day. You had been struggling with an essay, the stress getting to you, and Sunghoon had tried to help. You’d glanced up at him, frustration in your eyes, and he’d frozen. For a second, he swore his heart had stopped altogether. You were wearing his jacket that day because you’d forgotten yours at home, and he couldn’t focus on anything but how right it looked on you. How much he wanted to tell you that you could keep it forever.

But instead, he’d just shrugged, offering a teasing, “Maybe you’re overthinking it. It’s not a love letter or anything.”

You had thrown your pencil at him, rolling your eyes. “Thanks for the help, genius,” you’d muttered with a laugh, completely oblivious to the way his heart had been racing just from sitting so close to you.

And that was how it always was. You, perfectly unaware. Him, painfully aware.

Now, as he spent more time with you, it was like those feelings had never left. They’d just been waiting, buried but not forgotten, and the longer you were back, the harder it became to ignore them. He found himself watching you again, the way he had back in high school—only this time, it felt different. You were different. More grown, more guarded, but still the same girl he’d fallen for all those years ago.

The late-night walks, the quiet conversations under the stars, the way you leaned on him like you used to—all of it was stirring something in him. He tried to tell himself it was just nostalgia, that he was just getting caught up in the past, but the truth was, it was more than that.

It was the way you smiled when you caught him off guard, the way your laughter sounded like home, the way you instinctively reached for him whenever you needed comfort. It all felt too familiar, too easy, and too real.

One evening, as you both sat on the porch steps of your house, watching the sunset, Sunghoon glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. You were talking about something from work, your voice soft, but he wasn’t really listening. His mind was somewhere else—stuck on the way you looked in the fading light, like the girl he’d spent all of high school silently pining over.

It hit him then, harder than he expected, that those feelings hadn’t gone anywhere. Not really. He had just buried them because he’d thought he had to. But now, sitting here with you again, laughing like you always did, he wondered if maybe those feelings never really had a chance to fade.

“Sunghoon?” you asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” He blinked, trying to focus on what you were saying.

“You okay?” You tilted your head, giving him that look you always did when you could tell something was off.

“Yeah, just spaced out,” he lied, offering a small smile.

You didn’t push, but you gave him a soft smile in return, nudging him playfully. “You’re not very good at pretending to listen.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry. I’ll do better next time.”

But as you laughed and went on with your story, Sunghoon couldn’t stop the thoughts racing through his mind. How long could he keep pretending that nothing had changed? That his heart wasn’t pulling him back to the same place it had always been?

It was different now, though. You weren’t just the girl he’d fallen for in high school. You were the woman who had been through heartbreak, who had returned home looking for something familiar, something safe. And despite everything, Sunghoon realized that he still wanted to be that for you. He wanted to be the person you turned to—not just as a friend, but maybe something more.

But the question remained, did you see him that way, or would you always just see the boy next door, your childhood best friend?

His feelings had always been intense—he knew that much. But what he didn’t expect was how overwhelming they’d become now that you were back in his life. It wasn’t just nostalgia or some fleeting crush he could brush off. No, this ran deeper, more complicated than he was willing to admit. Every time he was near you, his heart ached with the weight of everything he’d kept hidden for so long.

And that’s why he started avoiding you.

It wasn’t something he planned, but he couldn’t help it. The more time you spent together, the harder it became to act like everything was normal. Like he wasn’t on the verge of telling you exactly how he felt, of confessing that these feelings had never gone away. But how could he? You’d just come out of one of the worst situations imaginable, and Sunghoon knew you needed time to heal. The last thing he wanted was to complicate things with his feelings, especially when you were clearly not ready for it.

So he pulled back.

It started with small things—canceled plans, excuses about being busy with work, avoiding your messages for a little longer than usual. He didn’t want to lie to you, but he also couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine. Every time he saw you, he felt like he was standing on the edge of something he wasn’t ready for, and he knew you weren’t either.

Yeji noticed first.

“You’ve been acting weird,” she said one evening as they grabbed coffee together. She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes at him. “What’s going on?”

Sunghoon shrugged, avoiding her gaze as he sipped his drink. “Nothing. Just busy.”

Yeji scoffed. “Busy, huh? Is that why you’ve been dodging Y/N’s calls too?”

He flinched at that, his grip tightening on his cup. Of course, Yeji would notice. She was sharp like that—always had been.

“You’re being ridiculous, you know,” she continued, crossing her arms. “She’s your best friend. She just got back after everything with Daniel, and you’re avoiding her? What’s your problem?”

Sunghoon sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m not avoiding her,” he mumbled, though he knew it wasn’t true.

Yeji raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Really? Because that’s what it looks like from where I’m standing.”

He stayed quiet, unsure of how to explain what was going on in his head. How could he possibly tell Yeji the truth when he hadn’t even come to terms with it himself?

“Look, I get it,” Yeji said after a moment, her voice softening. “She’s been through a lot, and maybe you think giving her space is the right thing to do. But Sunghoon, she needs you. You two have always been there for each other. What’s really going on?”

Sunghoon glanced up at her, his chest tight with the weight of what he was about to say. “It’s just… complicated.”

Yeji’s eyes widened slightly, as if realizing something. “Oh my God. You still like her, don’t you?”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and undeniable. Sunghoon didn’t answer at first, but the look on his face must’ve said enough because Yeji leaned back in her chair, her expression softening.

“You never got over her,” she said quietly.

Sunghoon sighed again, feeling like the dam he’d been holding back was starting to crack. “No,” he admitted, his voice low. “I never did.”

Yeji didn’t say anything for a long moment, just watching him with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. Finally, she leaned forward, her tone gentle but firm. “You know you’re gonna have to deal with this, right? Avoiding her isn’t going to make it go away.”

“I know,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “But it’s not that simple. She’s been through so much, Yeji. She doesn’t need me coming in and messing everything up with how I feel.”

“She needs her best friend,” Yeji countered. “You’re not going to mess anything up by being there for her.”

“But it’s more than that,” Sunghoon said, his voice tight. “I don’t just want to be her best friend, Yeji. I want… more. And if I tell her that now, when she’s still dealing with everything from Daniel, what if I make things worse?”

Yeji leaned back, crossing her arms again as she considered his words. “Sunghoon,” she said after a beat, her voice gentle but serious, “you’re not going to ruin anything by being honest with her. But you’re right—she’s not ready for something like that right now. So maybe you don’t need to tell her everything just yet. But avoiding her? That’s not the answer either.”

Sunghoon frowned, knowing she was right but still feeling conflicted. “I just… I don’t want to hurt her,” he said quietly.

“I know,” Yeji said softly. “But trust me, you’re hurting her more by pulling away.”

Sunghoon looked down at his hands, feeling the weight of her words settle over him. He didn’t want to hurt you, not after everything you’d already been through. But how could he face you when he could barely manage to keep his feelings under control?

“I just need some time,” he said, almost to himself. “To figure this out.”

Yeji sighed but nodded, though her expression remained concerned. “Just don’t take too long. She’s going to notice something’s off.”

Sunghoon nodded slowly, knowing deep down that Yeji was right. But for now, he wasn’t sure what else to do. All he knew was that the feelings he had buried for so long were clawing their way back to the surface, and no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t ignore them forever. 

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The next few days felt different. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but something was off with Sunghoon. He was distant—more than usual. Whenever you tried to hang out like old times, he found an excuse. Too busy with work, too tired from errands, too anything but here.

At first, you tried to ignore it. Maybe he really was busy. Maybe it was just a phase. After all, coming back had changed a lot, for everyone. But the more it happened, the more unsettled you became. You weren’t used to Sunghoon being like this, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d done something wrong.

The morning after your last attempt to make plans, you found yourself sitting at the kitchen table, picking at breakfast while your mind raced. Your mom was bustling around, wiping the counters and humming softly to herself.

“You look distracted, honey,” she said, glancing over at you. “Everything okay?”

You forced a smile, nodding. “Yeah, just thinking.”

Your mom raised an eyebrow, giving you that knowing look she always did when she didn’t quite believe you. “Does this have anything to do with why Sunghoon’s been acting so strange?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Come on, Y/N,” she said, turning to face you with a small smile. “I’ve known that boy his whole life. He’s always been so close to you, but lately, he’s been keeping his distance. Something’s bothering him, and I think it might have to do with you.”

Your heart sank at her words, and suddenly, all the little things you’d been trying to ignore came rushing to the surface. You hadn’t imagined it. Sunghoon was pulling away.

“I don’t know, Mom,” you mumbled, fiddling with the edge of your napkin. “He’s been busy, I guess.”

“Maybe,” she said thoughtfully, “but busy doesn’t explain why he avoids you whenever you come over. I don’t think this is about work.”

You stared down at your plate, your chest tightening. The thought of losing Sunghoon’s presence after everything that had happened made your stomach twist. He’d always been your rock—the one person who understood you better than anyone. If he was pulling away, what did that mean?

“I’ll talk to him,” you said softly, more to yourself than to your mom.

“Good,” your mom said with a warm smile. “I’m sure it’s nothing a good conversation can’t fix.”

But as you made your way upstairs to get ready, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t going to be that simple. Sunghoon wasn’t the type to pull away without a reason, and you had a sinking suspicion that whatever was going on, it wasn’t something he’d be willing to talk about easily.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Later that afternoon, you found yourself sitting outside on the porch, staring off into the distance as you tried to make sense of it all. The crisp autumn air brushed against your skin, the quiet neighborhood almost too peaceful for the storm of emotions swirling inside you. The longer you thought about it, the more frustrated you became.

Sunghoon wasn’t just distant—he was avoiding you. And that hurt more than you were willing to admit. You’d been through so much already, and now it felt like you were losing the one person who’d always been there for you.

Determined not to let this go on any longer, you decided to confront him. You grabbed your phone, quickly typing out a message.

Hey, are you free to talk?

You stared at the screen, waiting for a reply, your heart pounding in your chest. Minutes passed, and just when you thought he might not respond, your phone buzzed.

Busy today. Maybe another time?

Your frustration flared. You knew he wasn’t that busy. This was just another excuse.

Without thinking, you typed back.

Sunghoon, what’s going on? You’ve been avoiding me for days. Did I do something wrong?

You hit send, your fingers trembling slightly. The silence that followed felt suffocating, each passing second adding to the weight in your chest.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his reply came.

No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just… dealing with some stuff. I’ll explain later.

You frowned at the vague response, feeling even more confused. What kind of “stuff” was he dealing with that he couldn’t even talk to you about it? You started typing another message but stopped, realizing that pushing him wouldn’t help. If he wasn’t ready to talk, there wasn’t much you could do.

But that didn’t make the sting of his distance any less painful.

You put your phone down, staring out at the quiet street once more. Sunghoon was hiding something—something big. And no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself it wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was connected to you.

For the rest of the day, your mind wouldn’t let it go. What could possibly make him pull away like this? You had no idea what was going on with him, but one thing was clear: you needed to get to the bottom of it. Because the longer this went on, the more it felt like you were losing him. And you couldn’t bear the thought of that, not now—not after everything you’d been through.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The next few days were a blur of half-hearted attempts to distract yourself, but Sunghoon’s distance lingered at the back of your mind. Each time you saw him, whether by chance or at family gatherings, it felt like there was this invisible wall between you two, and it hurt more than you wanted to admit.

He wasn’t avoiding you entirely, but something was definitely off. The easy-going conversations you used to have were now strained. He barely looked at you, his responses shorter, and you couldn’t help but notice how he always found some reason to leave early.

It was Saturday afternoon when Yeji invited you out for coffee. She’d noticed the tension too, but unlike you, she wasn’t willing to let it slide.

“So, you and Sunghoon,” she said as soon as you sat down, not even bothering with small talk. “What’s going on?”

You blinked, surprised by her directness. “What do you mean?”

Yeji gave you a look, crossing her arms. “You know exactly what I mean, Y/N. He’s been acting weird since you got back, and don’t even try to tell me you haven’t noticed.”

You sighed, staring down at your drink. “I don’t know. I’ve tried to talk to him, but he just says he’s dealing with stuff. He won’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Yeji tilted her head, her eyes narrowing in thought. “You think it’s about Daniel?” she asks you, trying to allude to something more.

The mention of his name made your chest tighten. “I don’t know. Maybe? He was weird even before he knew about Daniel.”

“Hmm.” Yeji leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “That boy’s always been complicated, but I’ve never seen him this off with you. It’s like he’s avoiding something—something big.”

You frowned, feeling even more lost. “But what? What could it be? I didn’t do anything.”

Yeji tapped her fingers on the table, her gaze thoughtful. “Maybe it’s not about something you did. Maybe it’s something he’s dealing with.”

You shook your head. “He won’t talk to me about it. He just keeps saying he’s busy, but it’s more than that. I can feel it.”

“Of course it’s more than that,” Yeji said, her voice firm. “Sunghoon’s always been a terrible liar. He’s hiding something, and my guess? It has something to do with how he feels about you.”

You blinked, staring at her in confusion. “What? What do you mean?”

Yeji sighed, giving you a soft smile. “Come on, Y/N. You really think he’s just your childhood best friend? That boy has been in love with you since high school.”

Your stomach dropped at her words. “No, he hasn’t,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “We’re just friends. He’s never—”

“He’s never told you,” Yeji finished for you, her tone gentle but serious. “But trust me, it’s been there. He’s always liked you, but he never acted on it because he didn’t want to ruin what you two had. And now, with everything you’ve been through, he’s probably even more scared of saying something.”

You stared at her, stunned into silence. The idea of Sunghoon having feelings for you—real feelings—had never crossed your mind. Sure, you’d always been close, but he’d never given you any reason to think it was more than that. Right?

Yeji sighed, reaching across the table to pat your hand. “Look, I’m not saying you have to do anything about it. But you need to talk to him. He’s avoiding you because he doesn’t know how to handle what he’s feeling. And im truly so sick of him moping around like a puppy.

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. Was it true? Had Sunghoon really been hiding his feelings all this time? And if he had, what did that mean for you? You couldn’t even begin to process the possibility, not after everything that had happened with Daniel. You weren’t ready for this—couldn’t be.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, feeling overwhelmed. “I don’t even know if I’m ready to talk about it.”

Yeji gave you a sympathetic smile. “I get it. But Sunghoon is your best friend, and if you don’t at least clear the air, this is just going to keep getting worse. Whatever happens, you both deserve to be honest with each other.”

You nodded slowly, knowing deep down that she was right. Avoiding the situation wasn’t helping anyone. If Sunghoon was really struggling with his feelings, the least you could do was try to talk to him about it. But even as you told yourself that, a knot of anxiety settled in your chest.

Because if Sunghoon really had feelings for you, this was going to change everything. And after everything you’d already been through, you weren’t sure if you were ready for more change.

But one thing was clear: something had to give. You couldn’t keep pretending like everything was normal when it so clearly wasn’t.

“I’ll talk to him,” you finally said, your voice quiet but determined.

Yeji smiled, squeezing your hand. “Good. You’ll figure it out.”

But as you sat there, sipping your coffee and trying to keep your thoughts from spiraling, you couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to get a lot more complicated.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

That night, you found yourself staring at your phone, Sunghoon’s contact pulled up, your thumb hovering over the call button. The weight of Yeji’s words hung heavy in your mind—he’s always liked you—and the longer you thought about it, the more restless you became.

What if it was true? What if Sunghoon had been hiding his feelings all this time? The idea seemed impossible, but then again, you’d never imagined him pulling away like this either.

With a frustrated sigh, you locked your phone and tossed it onto the bed, running your hands through your hair. You couldn’t just call him out of the blue. It had to be face-to-face. You had to know for sure, but the thought of confronting him sent a surge of anxiety through your chest. What would you even say?

Unable to stand the suffocating silence of your room, you grabbed your jacket and slipped out of the house, your feet carrying you in a familiar direction. The night air was cool against your skin as you headed toward the park—the same park where you, Sunghoon, and Yeji had spent countless afternoons as kids.

It was quiet when you arrived, the swing set creaking gently in the breeze. You hesitated for a moment before sitting down on one of the swings, the chains groaning under your weight as you gently kicked at the dirt beneath your feet. Memories of your childhood came flooding back—the three of you racing to the swings, fighting over who could go higher, laughing until your sides hurt.

And then, Sunghoon’s face flashed in your mind—his shy smile, his teasing words, the way he’d always looked out for you, even when you didn’t realize it. Could Yeji really be right? Had he been feeling this way for years?

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t hear the footsteps approaching until someone sat down on the swing next to you. You looked up, startled, only to see Sunghoon, his expression unreadable as he stared ahead.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you heavy and awkward. You weren’t sure whether to be relieved or more anxious that he’d found you here.

“I didn’t think you’d be out this late,” Sunghoon finally said, his voice quiet.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you replied, your fingers curling around the swing’s chain. “Needed some air.”

He nodded, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. “Me too.”

You wanted to ask him—needed to—but the words felt stuck in your throat. Instead, you sat there, side by side in silence, the tension between you growing thicker with each passing second.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Sunghoon, what’s going on?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t answer right away. His jaw clenched, his hands gripping the chains of his swing tightly. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost strained. “I’ve been trying to figure that out myself.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the cryptic response. “Is it me?” you asked, turning to face him fully. “Did I do something wrong?”

His eyes snapped to yours, wide and alarmed. “No, Y/N, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?” you pressed, frustration bubbling to the surface. “You’ve been acting so strange ever since I came back. I don’t get it.”

Sunghoon sighed, his gaze dropping to the ground as he raked a hand through his hair. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then explain it to me,” you said, your voice soft but pleading. “Please, Sunghoon. I don’t want to lose you.”

His expression tightened at your words, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything. You could see the internal battle playing out behind his eyes, the conflict he’d been hiding so well suddenly visible. When he finally spoke, his voice was raw, vulnerable in a way you’d never heard before.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N.”

His words hung heavy in the air, and your heart clenched in your chest. “You’re not hurting me. You’re my best friend, Sunghoon. Whatever it is, we can get through it.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “That’s the problem. I don’t know if we can.”

You frowned, confusion swirling in your mind. “What do you mean?”

Sunghoon’s eyes met yours, and for the first time, you saw the weight of everything he’d been holding back. His next words came out in a rush, as if he’d been holding them in for far too long.

“I’ve always liked you, Y/N. More than just a friend. Since high school, maybe even before then. But I never told you because… because I didn’t want to mess things up. And then you left, and I thought I’d gotten over it. But now that you’re back…” He trailed off, his voice catching in his throat. “It’s like all those feelings just came rushing back, and I don’t know what to do with them. I can’t act on them, not after everything you’ve been through with Daniel. It’s not fair to you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, Sunghoon’s confession hanging in the air between you like a fragile thread. You’d always thought of him as your best friend, the one constant in your life that had never changed. But now… now everything was different.

“Sunghoon…” you whispered, at a loss for words.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, standing up from the swing as if he couldn’t bear to stay any longer. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll—”

“No,” you said, cutting him off, standing up too. “Don’t run away. Not again.”

He looked at you, his expression torn, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerability in his eyes—the fear of rejection, the fear of losing you completely. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

“Sunghoon, I… I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I never knew you felt that way.”

“I didn’t want you to know,” he said quietly. “But now… now I can’t hide it anymore.”

The silence between you was deafening, the weight of his confession settling heavily on your shoulders. You didn’t know how to respond, not after everything you’d been through. But one thing was certain: nothing between you and Sunghoon would ever be the same again.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The days that followed felt surreal. Sunghoon’s confession lingered in your mind like a persistent echo, one that you couldn’t quite shake off. Every time you replayed his words, your chest tightened, and your thoughts spiraled into confusion. You didn’t know how to feel—about him, about your past, or even about yourself. You spent so many years thinking of Sunghoon as your constant, your rock, your best friend, and now all of that felt uncertain.

Sunghoon avoided you even more than before, making sure he was never in the same place as you for too long. At first, you gave him space, understanding that things were complicated. But the distance started to gnaw at you. He’d always been the one person you could rely on, and now, when you needed him most, he was pulling away.

It was Yeji who finally brought it up, sitting across from you at the café as she studied your downcast expression.

“You look like you’ve been hit by a truck,” she said bluntly, sipping her iced coffee.

You sighed, pushing your own drink around the table without taking a sip. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” she said flatly. “And let me guess, it has something to do with Sunghoon?”

You didn’t answer right away, but the slight flicker in your eyes was enough for Yeji to know she was right. She groaned, leaning forward.

“I swear, if you two don’t figure this out, I’m going to lock you in a room until you do.”

You managed a weak smile at her joke, but it faded quickly. “It’s complicated, Yeji.”

“Everything is complicated with you two. But the longer you let this sit, the worse it’s going to get.”

“I don’t even know what to say to him,” you admitted, sinking into your seat. “He told me how he feels, but… I’m not ready for that. I don’t know if I’ll ever be.”

Yeji studied you carefully, her expression softening. “You’ve been through a lot with Daniel. No one expects you to be ready for something like this. But Sunghoon is… well, he’s not Daniel. You know he’d never hurt you.”

Your throat tightened at her words. “That’s what makes it worse. I don’t want to hurt him either.”

“You won’t,” Yeji said confidently. “Not if you’re honest with him. He knows what you’ve been through, and he’ll understand. But avoiding each other like this isn’t helping anyone.”

You rubbed your temples, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on you. “I don’t know, Yeji. It’s just… too much.”

She reached across the table, placing her hand on top of yours. “Take it one step at a time. Sunghoon’s not going anywhere. He just needs to know where you stand.”

You nodded, knowing deep down that she was right. The tension between you and Sunghoon had become unbearable, and if you didn’t talk to him soon, it would only get worse.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Later that evening, you found yourself standing in front of Sunghoon’s house, your heart racing. You hadn’t planned to come here, but your feet had carried you here almost on instinct. His confession had thrown everything into chaos, and you needed to clear the air, for both your sakes.

You took a deep breath before knocking on the door. The wait felt excruciatingly long, but finally, the door opened to reveal Sunghoon, his expression shifting from surprise to something more guarded.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice hesitant. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to you,” you replied, trying to steady your voice. “Can we?”

He looked uncertain for a moment, but eventually, he stepped aside, letting you in. You followed him to the living room, the air between you heavy with unspoken words.

Sunghoon stood by the window, his hands stuffed into his pockets, avoiding your gaze. “What is it?”

You took a seat on the couch, feeling your pulse quicken. “About what you told me the other night…”

He tensed, his shoulders stiffening. “You don’t have to say anything. I get it.”

“No,” you interrupted, your voice firmer than you intended. “You don’t get it. You can’t just drop something like that on me and then disappear, Sunghoon. We’ve been friends for years. I deserve to know what’s going on with you.”

Sunghoon sighed, finally turning to face you. “I was trying to give you space. I didn’t want to make things harder for you after everything with Daniel.”

“I appreciate that,” you said, your voice softening. “But shutting me out isn’t helping either of us.”

There was a long pause as Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling with his own emotions. “I didn’t know what else to do, Y/N. I’ve been holding this in for so long, and now that it’s out, I don’t know how to act around you.”

“You don’t have to act any differently,” you said quietly. “But you also can’t avoid me forever.”

Sunghoon stared at you, a conflicted look in his eyes. “I just… I don’t want to make things worse. I know you’re not ready for… anything like this, and I’m not going to push you. But it’s hard, Y/N. It’s hard being around you and pretending like everything is the same when I’ve been feeling this way for so long.”

You looked down, your heart heavy with guilt. “I don’t want to lose you, Sunghoon. You’re one of the most important people in my life, and I can’t imagine things without you. But I’m not ready for more, not after everything that happened.”

“I know,” Sunghoon said softly, his expression pained. “And I’ll wait. I’ll always wait for you, Y/N. But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

The vulnerability in his voice hit you hard, and for the first time, you saw just how deep his feelings ran. He wasn’t asking for anything from you—he was just being honest, and it was tearing him apart. You took a shaky breath, feeling the weight of it all crashing down on you.

“I’m sorry, Sunghoon,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I wish things were different.”

He shook his head, stepping closer to you. “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. I just… I just needed you to know.”

The silence stretched between you, both of you caught in the painful reality of the situation. Neither of you knew what the future held, but for now, all you could do was take it one step at a time.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The days passed in an uneasy quiet, the tension between you and Sunghoon lingering like an unspoken secret. He no longer avoided you as much, but the once easy-going banter you shared felt stilted, weighed down by everything unsaid. You couldn’t stop thinking about his confession. It felt like a constant reminder of how complicated everything had become. No matter how much you tried to focus on anything else, Sunghoon’s words echoed in your mind, making it impossible to pretend like things were back to normal.

One evening, as you sat in your room, you heard a knock on the door. Your mom poked her head in, smiling warmly.

“Dinner’s ready, sweetheart,” she said, her eyes soft with concern. “You okay?”

You plastered on a smile, nodding. “Yeah, just lost in thought.”

She gave you a knowing look. “You’ve been doing a lot of that lately. Is everything okay between you and Sunghoon?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Why do you ask?”

“You two have always been inseparable, but things seem… different now. You can talk to me, you know.”

You bit your lip, unsure of how much to say. You hadn’t told your parents anything about Sunghoon’s confession, and you weren’t sure you could without making things more complicated. “It’s nothing, Mom. We’re fine. Just adjusting, I guess.”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. “Alright, but you know we’re here for you. If you need to talk about anything—about Sunghoon or anything else—you can always come to us.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of her words settle over you. She meant well, but the last thing you wanted was to burden your parents with the tangled mess of your emotions.

After dinner, you found yourself wandering outside, needing fresh air to clear your head. Without thinking, you walked down the familiar path to the park, your steps slow and deliberate. The quiet of the evening felt comforting, a stark contrast to the storm of thoughts swirling inside you. You found your way back to the swings, sitting down as you often did when you needed to think.

As you rocked gently back and forth, your mind drifted back to high school. Back to the carefree days when things between you, Sunghoon, and Yeji had been simple. The memories were vivid—late nights studying together, hanging out at the park after school, and how Sunghoon had always been there, a steady presence by your side. Back then, you’d never questioned his loyalty, never thought twice about the way he always seemed to put you first. But now, looking back, you wondered how you hadn’t noticed the way he looked at you, the quiet way his feelings had been growing all along.

You remembered one particular moment, just before you left for the U.S. Sunghoon had walked you home after a late study session, the two of you chatting about nothing in particular. It had been a chilly night, and he’d offered you his jacket without hesitation. You’d laughed, teased him for being too polite, but his expression had been serious, almost sad. At the time, you hadn’t thought much of it, chalking it up to the fact that you’d be leaving soon. But now, in hindsight, you realized it had been more than that. Sunghoon had been struggling with his feelings, even back then, and you’d been completely oblivious.

A pang of guilt hit you as you thought about how long he must’ve held everything inside, how hard it must’ve been for him to see you leave, knowing you didn’t feel the same way. And now, after everything that had happened with Daniel, Sunghoon was still there, waiting for you in the background, even though you couldn’t give him what he wanted.

“Why does everything have to be so complicated?” you muttered to yourself, staring up at the darkening sky.

Just as you were about to lose yourself in more memories, you heard footsteps approaching from behind. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Sunghoon.

“You’re here again,” he said, his voice quiet but familiar as he sat on the swing next to you.

“I needed to think,” you replied softly, your eyes still focused on the ground. “This place… it helps.”

Sunghoon nodded, his gaze drifting up toward the sky. “Yeah. It’s always been like that, hasn’t it?”

A comfortable silence fell between you, though it was laced with the tension of everything unsaid. For a moment, it felt like old times—just the two of you, sitting together in quiet understanding. But you knew things were different now, no matter how much you wanted to pretend otherwise.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice tentative. “Sunghoon… I know things have been weird lately. And I hate it.”

He didn’t respond right away, but you could feel the weight of his gaze on you. “I know.”

“I just—” You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want things to be like this between us.”

Sunghoon sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want that either, Y/N. But I don’t know how to make it less weird. I can’t just forget what I said.”

“I’m not asking you to,” you said quickly. “But maybe we can figure this out. I need you, Sunghoon. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He looked at you, his expression conflicted. “I need you too. But that’s the problem.”

Your heart clenched at his words. You could see the struggle in his eyes—the fight between his feelings for you and his desire to protect you from more pain. It wasn’t fair to him, and you knew it. But you didn’t know how to fix it, how to make things go back to the way they were.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the guilt heavy in your chest.

Sunghoon shook his head, his voice soft but firm. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault. None of this is.”

You sat there in silence, the distance between you feeling both vast and fragile. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you needed to figure out. But for now, all you could do was sit side by side, both of you trying to navigate the complicated mess of feelings that had always been there, just beneath the surface.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Weeks passed, and the uneasy tension that once lingered between you and Sunghoon gradually began to fade. Little by little, things started to feel like they were falling back into place, though not quite the same as before. The awkward silences became comfortable again, and the shared moments between you started to carry a different weight.

You found yourself paying closer attention to him in ways you never had before. The small gestures—how he’d bring you coffee without asking, or how he’d go out of his way to make sure you were comfortable—began to take on a deeper meaning. Sunghoon wasn’t just being your best friend; he was being your support, your constant, the one person who had always been there for you, even when you didn’t realize how much you needed him.

It was in those moments that your feelings began to shift. At first, you tried to brush them off, telling yourself it was just gratitude, that you were still recovering from everything with Daniel. But the more time you spent with Sunghoon, the harder it became to ignore the warmth that bloomed in your chest every time he smiled at you, or the way your heart raced whenever your hands accidentally brushed.

One evening, the two of you sat in your backyard, a quiet evening settling in around you. Sunghoon had insisted on helping your father with a project earlier, and afterward, he stayed for dinner, as he often did. Now, the two of you were sitting on the porch, the cool breeze gently rustling the leaves above you.

Sunghoon leaned back, his eyes drifting to the sky. “You’ve been quiet tonight,” he said softly, glancing at you. “Everything okay?”

You smiled at the concern in his voice, feeling that familiar warmth spread through you again. “Yeah, I’m just… thinking.”

He turned slightly to face you, raising an eyebrow. “About what?”

You hesitated, unsure how to put your feelings into words. You weren’t ready to say everything out loud yet, but you couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of gratitude and admiration you felt for him. “Just about how things have changed… and how much you’ve been there for me.”

Sunghoon’s gaze softened, and he shrugged casually, though you could see a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. “That’s what friends do, right?”

You nodded, but the word “friends” felt wrong now. There was something more between you, something that had been growing quietly in the background, and it was starting to become impossible to deny. You weren’t sure when it had happened, or maybe it had always been there, buried beneath the surface. But what you did know was that Sunghoon wasn’t just your friend anymore.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

More time passed and you found yourself seeking him out more, spending more time with him than anyone else. You began to crave his company, his quiet strength, and the way he seemed to understand you without needing to ask. And it wasn’t just the grand gestures that made your heart flutter—it was the small things. The way he always checked if you were okay, how he listened when you talked, really listened, and how he’d make sure you weren’t alone whenever you seemed down.

It was these little acts of kindness, the quiet care he showed you, that made your feelings for him grow into something undeniable.

One evening, the two of you found yourselves at the park again, sitting on the swings like you used to as kids. The sky was a deep shade of pink and orange, the sun setting in the distance. Sunghoon was talking about something—work, maybe—but you weren’t really listening. Instead, you were focused on him, on the way his hair fell into his eyes, the way his voice softened when he talked to you.

You realized, suddenly and overwhelmingly, that you cared for him in a way you hadn’t cared for anyone else. It wasn’t just that Sunghoon had been there for you, but the way he had always, quietly and without expectation, supported you, no matter what. He didn’t ask for anything in return, didn’t push you for answers or confessions. He just… cared.

And that’s when you knew. You had feelings for Sunghoon. They had been there all along, waiting for you to realize it.

Sunghoon must have noticed the look on your face because he stopped mid-sentence, turning to you with a curious expression. “What is it?”

You blinked, startled out of your thoughts. “What?”

“You’re staring at me,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You felt your cheeks heat up, quickly looking away. “I wasn’t.”

He laughed softly, but didn’t push further. Instead, he leaned back on the swing, the smile fading as a comfortable silence settled between you. You wanted to say something, to tell him what was on your mind, but the words wouldn’t come. Not yet.

For now, you were content just being here with him, the weight of your growing feelings a secret you weren’t quite ready to share. But you knew, deep down, that it wouldn’t be long before those feelings couldn’t be hidden any longer.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

It was a cozy Friday evening, and the house felt unusually quiet. Your parents and Sunghoon’s parents had decided to take a weekend trip together, leaving the two of you alone for the night. You had taken advantage of the opportunity to host a movie night, and the living room was filled with the inviting smell of popcorn and the soft glow of fairy lights strung around the room.

You settled onto the couch, a soft blanket draped over your legs, while Sunghoon reclined next to you, the space between you filled with a warm tension. The movie played in the background, but you found it hard to focus on the screen. Instead, your gaze kept drifting to him—the way the light danced in his hair, the casual way he laughed at the jokes, and the ease of his presence next to you.

As the minutes turned into hours, you felt the atmosphere shift. Each time you glanced at him, your heart raced a little more. You couldn’t ignore the way your feelings for him had transformed over the last few weeks, the moments you had shared sparking something deeper than friendship.

Finally, during a quieter moment in the movie, you turned to him, heart pounding. “Sunghoon,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. He turned his head, eyebrows raised in curiosity, his expression inviting you to continue.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should voice what had been on your mind for so long. But the warmth of his gaze, the way he was looking at you, made the decision feel inevitable. “I need to tell you something,” you began, feeling your heart race.

He tilted his head slightly, encouraging you. “What is it?”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us… and how I feel about you.” Your voice trembled slightly as you spoke, but you pressed on. “When I came back to Korea, everything felt so chaotic. But you… you were there for me in a way I didn’t expect. And the more time we spend together, the more I realize that I care about you, Sunghoon. A lot.”

His eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his face. “Y/N, I—”

Before he could respond, you continued, your heart pounding in your chest. “I know I’ve been through a lot, and I don’t want to rush anything. But I can’t pretend anymore. I have feelings for you—feelings that go beyond friendship. I want to explore this… whatever this is between us.”

A moment of silence stretched between you, filled with the weight of your confession. You could see the shock in his expression slowly melting into something softer, something hopeful.

“I’ve wanted to hear you say that,” he finally said, his voice low and sincere. “I care about you too, Y/N. I’ve felt this way for a long time, but I didn’t know if you’d feel the same after everything that’s happened.”

Your heart soared at his words, relief flooding through you. “Really?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, a small smile spreading across his lips. “Really.”

In that moment, everything else faded away. You felt a magnetic pull between you, drawing you closer together. Without thinking, you leaned in, your heart racing as you closed the space between you.

Sunghoon met you halfway, his lips brushing against yours with a gentle hesitance that quickly melted into a deeper kiss. It was electric—filled with all the unspoken emotions you had both held back for so long. The world outside your living room ceased to exist, leaving only the warmth of his body and the rhythm of your hearts.

You melted into him, feeling the softness of the couch beneath you as he deepened the kiss, hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer. You could feel the heat radiating between you, igniting something passionate and alive that you hadn’t anticipated.

You  moaned softly into Sunghoon's mouth, the sound fueling his desire even further. Breaking the kiss for air, you stared into each other's eyes, both breathless and flushed. "Your room," Sunghoon whispered hoarsely. "Let's go to your room."

Hand in hand, you made your way to your childhood bedroom, a space that held countless memories of your friendship. The room was a sanctuary, adorned with pictures and trinkets from your shared adventures. Sunghoon closed the door behind you, sealing your private world from the outside.

You leaned against the door, heart racing as he approached her. He gently cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your soft cheeks. "I've dreamed of this moment for so long," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.Your lips met again, this time with a hunger that burned through your restraint. Sunghoon's hands roamed over your body, exploring the curves and contours of your hips and waist. His fingers played with the hem of your tshirt, as if he was silently asking permission to take it off of you. You nod, his hands wasting no time in peeking the fabric to reveal the lacy black bra you wore beneath. 

Your breath caught in your throat as his fingertips traced the delicate lace, sending shivers down her spine.

With deft fingers, Sunghoon unhooked your bra, freeing your breasts. You gasp at the cold air that suddenly hits you. He gazed at them with reverence, his eyes dark with desire. Leaning down, he took one nipple into his mouth, suckling gently while his thumb teased the other.  You arch your back at the sensation, moaning softly as waves of pleasure rippled through you.

"You're so beautiful, Y/N," Sunghoon whispered against you skin. "I want to make you feel so good."

Feeling a sudden burst of eagerness, your hands found their way to Sunghoon's belt, unbuckling it with trembling fingers. You undid his jeans and slid your hand inside, wrapping your fingers around his hardening cock through his boxers. Sunghoon gasped, his breath hot against your neck, placing a small, wet kiss there as you began to stroke him. “S-shit baby.”

You slip your hand out, guiding Sunghoon towards your bed, you pushed him gently onto the mattress, positions now reversed. You straddled his waist, grinding your hips against his, feeling his erection press against your clothed cunt. His hands roamed over your thighs, inching upwards, exploring the soft skin beneath her shorts that had been driving him insane since the moment he stepped foot inside your house. 

With a gentle tug, you lifted your hips as he removed your shorts as well as the cute black panties that matched your bra, revealing your bare pussy, glistening with desire. Sunghoon's eyes darkened further as he took in the sight, his breath coming in short gasps. "You're so wet, Y/N. want to taste you so bad."

“later, you say as you slide down his body, positioning yourself between his legs. You leaned forward, your long hair cascading over your shoulders, as you began to kiss and lick the length of his shaft. Sunghoon groaned, his hands gripping the bedsheets as you took him deep into your mouth, tongue swirling around the head of his cock. “Feels so good baby”

Sunghoon couldn't hold back any longer. He sat up, positioning you on the bed, and parted your thighs with gentle kisses. His tongue traced the outer folds of your pussy, teasing your sensitive skin. You squirmed with pleasure,  hips bucking against his face as he found your clit and began to suckle it with relentless passion.

"Oh, Sunghoon!" you cried out,  voice hoarse with desire. "Fuck don't stop, please!"

Sunghoon continued his relentless assault on your clit, sending you spiraling towards an intense orgasm “tastes so fucking good, all wet just for me.” Your body trembled,  crying out his name as waves of pleasure washed over you. Sunghoon didn't let up, continuing to lick and suck until you were a quivering mess, your body drenched in sweat and satisfaction.

After a few moments to recover, you reached for Sunghoon, pulling him up to kiss him in a more hungry kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, and it drove you wild with desire all over again. "I want you inside me," you whispered between kisses. "Now."

Sunghoon needed no further encouragement. He positioned himself at your entrance, his cock throbbing with anticipation. With one smooth thrust, he filled you completely, eliciting a gasp from your parted lips. you moved in perfect harmony, your bodies slick with sweat as ge fucked you with raw, unbridled passion.

"Harder, baby" you pleaded, nails digging into his shoulders. "fuck me harder.” Sunghoon obliged, pounding into you with abandon, his hips slamming against yours. 

The headboard banged against the wall, marking the rhythm of your frantic coupling. your cries filled the room as you rode the waves of pleasure,  orgasm building to an intense crescendo.

“Fuck baby your pussys clenching so hard around my cock, im so fucking close.” You could feel his thrusts becoming sloppier, your own orgasm approaching just a quick. “gonna c-cum hoonie.” He couldn't hold back any longer. With a final, powerful thrust, he came deep inside you, his hot cum painting your walls white. 

He collapsed onto the bed, bodies entwined, both breathing heavily as the aftershocks of pleasure rippled through each of you. “If I would’ve known you’d fuck me that good maybe I would’ve given you a chance much earlier.” You tell him out of breath, eliciting a chuckle from him. 

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The soft morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a gentle glow in your room. You stirred awake, feeling warmth enveloping you. Sunghoon was nestled beside you, his arm draped protectively around your waist, holding you close. The memory of the night before flooded your mind—the kiss, the confessions, and the spark of something beautiful igniting between you.

You smiled to yourself, feeling a sense of contentment that you hadn’t experienced in a long time. But as you settled deeper into his embrace, a sudden noise from downstairs jolted you from your blissful reverie.

“Y/N, I think your parents are back,” Sunghoon murmured sleepily, rubbing his eyes as he became more alert.

Your heart raced as the reality of the situation hit you. “Oh fuck, They’re not supposed to be back yet” you whispered, panic rising in your chest.

Sunghoon’s eyes widened, and he immediately sat up, glancing around the room. “We need to hurry”

You both scrambled to untangle yourselves from the sheets, adrenaline coursing through you. As you hopped out of bed, you glanced at each other, both of you laughing nervously at the chaotic situation. There was an unspoken agreement—you needed to act casual, like nothing unusual had happened.

“Okay, you get dressed first,” you said, tossing him a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that had been strewn on the floor. “I’ll throw on something too.”

You quickly changed into a comfy hoodie and leggings, your heart still racing as you heard your parents’ voices growing louder downstairs. The last thing you wanted was for them to walk in on you two after the night you just shared.

“Are you ready?” Sunghoon asked, his hair slightly tousled as he pulled on the T-shirt. He looked adorable, and it took everything in you not to linger on how cute he was at that moment.

“Almost!” you replied, giving your reflection a quick check in the mirror before moving to the door. “Let’s go!”

You both rushed down the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible, your hearts pounding in your chests. As you reached the bottom step, you could hear your parents chatting in the kitchen, their voices bright and cheerful.

“Y/N, are you home?” your mom called out just as you and Sunghoon entered the living room, trying to appear nonchalant.

“Yeah, Mom! Just hanging out!” you replied, forcing a casual tone, hoping it didn’t sound too forced.

You glanced over at Sunghoon, who was giving you a small, reassuring smile, but you could see the nervousness in his eyes. You both moved into the kitchen, where your parents were unpacking bags, completely oblivious to the whirlwind of emotions that had just taken place in your room.

“Hey, Sunghoon! you’re here,” your dad said, giving him a friendly nod. “Did you keep Y/N entertained while we were gone?”

“Of course!” Sunghoon replied, a little too quickly, his eyes darting to you for a brief moment. “We had a fun movie night.”

You nodded enthusiastically, trying to match his energy. “Yeah, just a normal hangout. Nothing out of the ordinary,” you added, unable to hide the hint of a nervous laugh.

Your mom chuckled, giving you both a knowing look. “You two have always been inseparable. I’m glad you’re spending time together.”

You felt your cheeks flush, and you shot Sunghoon a sidelong glance. He was trying hard not to smile, and it was contagious.

“Did you enjoy the trip?” you asked, hoping to shift the conversation away from the night before.

Your parents launched into stories about their travels, and as you listened, you couldn’t help but sneak glances at Sunghoon. He caught your eye, and you both exchanged a small smile that felt electric, reminding you of the connection you had just started to explore.

As breakfast was prepared, the atmosphere felt relaxed and easy, but your heart raced at the thought of your parents unknowingly interrupting something that had felt so significant. You couldn’t help but feel giddy about the night you had shared, and the prospect of what lay ahead for you and Sunghoon, even as the morning unfolded like any other day.

After breakfast, your parents retreated to the living room to relax, leaving you and Sunghoon to clean up the kitchen. The atmosphere felt light, almost like the calm before a storm as you both exchanged playful banter, your earlier connection still fresh in your minds.

Later that afternoon, you heard a familiar voice ring out from the front door. “Y/N! I’m here!” Yeji called as she burst into the house, her energy immediately filling the space.

You couldn’t help but smile, excitement bubbling up at the sight of your childhood best friend. “Yeji! You’re back!” you exclaimed, rushing to greet her with a hug.

As you pulled away, she looked at you intently, her gaze sweeping over you from head to toe. “You’re glowing,  What’s going on with you?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.

Your cheeks flushed slightly, and you tried to play it cool. “What are you talking about?” you said, attempting to sound nonchalant, but you felt a giddy warmth spread through you.

“Oh, come on” Yeji pressed, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “You look so happy. Are you and sunghoon fianlly together?”

You felt your heart race at the thought. “It’s… complicated,” you said, a shy smile creeping onto your face as you remembered the kiss, the way he made you feel, and the warmth that had lingered long after. “We’re just figuring things out.”

“Just figuring things out?” Yeji exclaimed, her voice rising in disbelief. “Y/N, you’re practically radiating happiness, That sounds like a classic ‘we’re together’ situation to me now spill bitch.”

You laughed, unable to suppress the joy bubbling inside you. “I promise, it’s nothing like that! We’re just friends hanging out—well, more than friends, but still… you know.” You were stumbling over your words, and you could feel the warmth of your blush creeping down your neck.

Yeji’s eyes widened, her expression a mix of disbelief and excitement. “Oh my god, did you fuck?” she pressed, bouncing slightly on her heels, clearly thrilled at the prospect.

You don’t say anything, except you give her a knowing look that told her everything she needs to know. 

Yeji’s smile grew wider, her excitement infectious. “Fucking finally. I thought you idiots would never figure it out” She grabbed your shoulders, her eyes gleaming. “You have to tell me everything.”

Just then, Sunghoon appeared in the doorway, glancing between the two of you, a bemused smile on his face. “What’s going on in here?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe with an amused expression.

Yeji turned to him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, just catching up on the latest drama. Y/N and I were just talking about how she’s glowing and—”

You quickly interjected, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “We were just talking about… uh, my skincare routine!”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Your skincare routine, huh? Sounds fascinating.”

“Shut up,” you shot back playfully, laughter spilling out. But deep down, you felt a thrill at the thought of your feelings for him becoming more public, shared between friends.

Yeji wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, a teasing smile on her face.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. As Sunghoon joined the conversation, you felt a warmth in your heart, realizing how much you had missed this—how much you had missed him.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You and Sunghoon settled into a rhythm of secrecy and excitement. Every stolen moment felt like a thrilling adventure, each shared smile charged with an energy that left you both breathless. You spent evenings hanging out at parks, grabbing snacks at your favorite convenience store, and reliving old memories. But as your bond deepened, so did the intensity of your feelings.

You both agreed to keep things under wraps for a little while longer, wanting to navigate this new chapter without the pressure of parental expectations looming over you. But sneaking around only added to the thrill, and soon, it became second nature.

One Friday evening, you decided to go on a real date. After all, you had managed to keep things low-key, but you were ready to enjoy being together without the pressure of hiding. You picked a charming little café downtown, a spot you both loved, and as the sun began to set, the place glowed with a warm, inviting ambiance.

You shared a dessert and exchanged playful banter, the world outside fading away. Sunghoon’s laughter felt like music, and each lingering glance seemed to whisper promises of something beautiful. The night was perfect—until it was time to go home.

As you walked down the quiet street, the cool night air wrapping around you, you felt a surge of affection. You turned to Sunghoon, smiling softly, and without thinking, you pulled him into a warm embrace. It felt so right, being close to him, your heart racing at the proximity.

But just as you pulled away, a familiar voice broke the silence. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

Startled, you turned to see your parents standing just a few feet away, a mix of surprise and amusement on their faces. Sunghoon’s eyes widened, and you felt your heart drop. “Uh… hey!” you stammered, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

Your mom stepped forward, a knowing smile spreading across her face. “We always knew you two would end up together,” she said, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow playfully.

Sunghoon chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Um, well, this is a bit unexpected.”

Your dad grinned, stepping beside your mom. “You think we wouldn’t notice the way you two look at each other? You’ve been sneaking around, haven’t you?”

You exchanged glances with Sunghoon, a mix of embarrassment and relief flooding through you. “Okay, maybe a little,” you admitted, unable to hide your smile.

“Just a little?” Yeji suddenly appeared from behind your parents, her arms crossed and an amused look on her face. “I could have told you they were dating from the way they looked at each other!”

Your heart raced, but seeing the warmth in your parents’ eyes eased your nerves. “We just wanted to take our time, you know?” you said, looking up at Sunghoon.

Your mom laughed softly. “You kids and your secrets. We were starting to wonder when you would finally tell us!”

Sunghoon relaxed, a smile spreading across his face. “Sorry for keeping it from you, but we wanted to figure things out first.”

Your dad patted Sunghoon on the back. “You’re a good kid. We’re just happy to see you both happy. Just remember to keep it respectful, alright?”

You nodded vigorously, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders. As you stood there, surrounded by family and friends, you realized how wonderful it felt to share your happiness openly.

Sunghoon looked at you, his expression softening. “Well, I guess the secret’s out,” he said, smiling broadly.

You chuckled, leaning against him, warmth spreading through you. “Yeah, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As you walked home together, hand in hand, you knew this was just the beginning of a new chapter in your lives—one filled with love, laughter, and the promise of many more adventures to come.

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[specsthesecond]

🃏👑🃏

You were married off to the king as a young noble woman. The arrangement was rather rushed in your opinion, not that anyone asked for it. The king only needed a show queen, a quiet but present symbol for the kingdom and you suited well enough for that.

He didn’t need a wife for pleasure, he had plenty mistresses for that and he seemed to be in no rush for a successor. You suspected it was because he had no intent to hand over power to anyone else anytime soon. Although, that's just what you assumed, others never blamed him for it. You were always the target of the hushed whispers and silent accusations of infertility, unruliness or even infidelity when it came to the subject of an heir.

The people's gossip aside, it was an easy marriage. You didn’t have to share a bed with a man you didn’t love and you didn’t have to raise his children. Many more deserving women would kill for such a life, which only made you feel worse about the utter discontent you felt. It was the loneliness, mostly. Such a privileged life and yet not a single companion in the world to share it with.

The king and his advisers only speak to you when they need you to make an appearance as queen. Their orders always dripping with condescension and near mockery. They’ve made you smile and wave for hours, waltz until your feet blister and recite a holy text’s worth of pompous poetry, but this most recent ploy was particularly concerning.

You sit on your throne next to your husband, hands in your lap, staring at the colourful figure in front of you. The bells on his ridiculous hat jingle as he bows his head so low they almost touch the marble floor. Quiet chuckles emit from the nobility crowding the massive ballroom and the unease in your stomach only builds.

When the jester picks his head back up, you can’t help fiddling even more with your dress, just like your husband's advisers have scolded you not to. The jester silently stares with his sheet white face, big red grin painted across his mouth. You want to shrink under the jesters stare, the blue diamonds painted over his eyes make his gaze feel piercing.

The king grins when he catches your nervous gaze.

“Do you like your surprise, my love? I thought you could use some cheering up lately. As did my advisers.”

He chuckles, looking over at the old men in the corner of the room. They smile back, amusing in a joke you're not a part of.

You just nod your head as politely as possible. You don’t know what's happening, but whatever they have planned can’t be good.

The jester skips up to where you and the king sit. He gives an exaggerated curtsy to the king, earning a laugh from him and the various nobility.

The bells jingle as he springs back up and steps closer to you. He stretches his hand out, you stare at it and then back to your husband.

“The fool wants a dance, my dear. Give him a dance.”

You try to hide the apprehension on your face and reach for the jesters white glove-covered hand. He doesn’t squeeze or pull you up like you expected, instead he holds it gently, waiting for your next move. You rise from your throne and cast one more glance at your husband, who only offers a self-satisfied grin in return. This whole time all they've wanted from you is a perfect queen and now they want you to dance with a fool?

The jester walks you to the middle of the room, encircled by leering nobility. He places your hand on his waist before dramatically correcting the mistake and placing it on his shoulder instead, looking bashfully to the audience who snicker at the joke. He takes your other hand in his and gives you a little nod before the musicians starts playing and he guides you into step.

Now obviously you know very well how to dance, you enjoyed it quite a bit when you were little although, now it’s just become another part of your queenly duties. Did any of that even matter now? Now that it’s clear the king and his peers see you as just as much of a joke as the man you’re waltzing with.

Your deep thoughts are broken when said man unexpectedly twirls you in a dizzying circle. You flail slightly in your surprise but you’re brought back into his arms just as quickly to continue your steps. You fully focus on him now and you wonder what his features look like under that gaudy clown makeup. Even in the bright chandelier lights of the ball room, you can’t make out the colour of his irises. Earlier, you thought they were hazel but now it seems they're an impossibly dark brown.

The dark pools look as if they could swallow all the colour from his face and your own. Actually, has he blinked even once during this dance, or at all for that matter?

You’re not sure if it was your mistake or the jester’s but you step on his foot and he suddenly pulls away from you. He clutches his foot and jumps up and down in theatrical pain. The room bursts into laughter, bellows and cackles. These elite men and women delight in the humiliating performance you’re both putting on for them. It takes everything in you not to cave right there in the middle of it.

While the jeering continues, you try your best to steel yourself, replacing the need to cry with spiteful compliance. If they want a dance, they can have a dance.

You curtsy at the jester, offering an apology and hold your hand out to him. He looks around and then points to himself. You can’t help but smile and nod your head.

He takes your hand and when the music starts back up again, you step in time to the beautiful melody. You try and put your full attention on the jester, not anyone else in the large room, which proves to be quite easy as he is by far the most interesting person present. You can just make out the small smile under the red painted grin, his relaxed eyebrows under the bright blue diamonds, the crook of his pointy nose.

While moving in sync, you become almost lost in trying to map out his face under the make-up. You look for imperfections in the face paint but can’t seem to find a single smudge or brush streak, in fact the paint looks impressively even, like it’s a second skin.

It truly does feel like its only you two and the music, for the first time in a long time you feel wanted by someone else.

But when the king grows bored he demands new entertainment.

He motions for the musicians to stop their music and you’re brought back to reality. The jester bows for the crowd, he gestures to you and you offer a little curtsy before being escorted back to your throne. Form there, you watch the rest of the strange performers routine. He juggles an impressive amount of miscellaneous items, he folds himself into ridiculous positions, walks on his hands and generally makes a fool of himself for the crowd.

You watch in delight, though your husband doesn't seem as interested as he was before your little dance.

You think about the jester all the way back to your courters that night. You think about him as you slip on your night dress and slide into bed, and you think of him as you stare up at the ceiling for possibly hours. There is too much on your mind, the fun of watching the jesters performance has subsided and thoughts of what this means for your reputation and position in the court remain constant. A sigh leaves you as you lift yourself up and open the doors to your balcony.

You lean on the balcony ledge and stare out at the starry night sky, not even the strange jester can distract from the humiliation ritual you were just a part of. He could have been in on it for all you know and you're just naive enough to think he was being kind to you during the whole thing.

A shuffling sound from behind you makes you turn your head and it takes you just a split second to register the very colourful jester standing in the corner of your balcony.

The screech you let out is smothered by your own hand. You clutch the edge of the balcony, staring at the slender man who puts his hands up, waving apologies while moving his chest as if laughing, nothing comes out of his mouth. You clutch your heart, breathing quite heavily as you stare at him bewildered. You look around trying to discern where he could have come from, and how you only now hear his bells jingle as he waves his hands, still apologising.

He steps closer and stands tall in front of you, he’s much more imposing than you remember him being. He holds up one finger and then mimics a waltz. His head bows low and he holds his hand out for you to take. He’s asking for another dance but is there really much of a choice at all? Has this also been planned? If you say no, will he just leave? Do you want him to leave? The dance you shared was the most delightful time you've had in so, so long

You stare at him for a good while, he stays with his hand outstretched, bent over at a near 90 degree angle, not straining even a little. The longer you wait, the more uncomfortable you feel in his unwavering presence.

Against your better judgement, you reach out and touch his gloved hand. He curls his fingers around yours and stands upright. You let him bring your hand to his shoulder, place his hand on your waist and step closer. This time is different from the last time. Now it really does feel like his attention is only on you, not with the other guests, not with the performance. It should be frightening, but you find no malice in his eyes, no ridicule in his demeanor.

As he steps into motion, you begin a slow waltz in the small space of your balcony. It's slower than in the ballroom, it's more intimate. While you dance with this complete stranger, your thoughts run rampant, you second guess your judgement again and again. Maybe the kindness you sense from him is a ruse. Maybe he is here on behalf of the king, setting up another degrading show. He could even be an assassin, come to rid you quietly in the middle of the night.

You would deserve such a fate for giving in so easily. You slowly spin in his arms and this time you don't hear the snide laughs of the nobility, just the sounds of the night. Both of you step in time and you let him guide you to the edge of your balcony. You hold your breath as he dips you over the ledge. Your eyes squeeze shut and you let out what could be your last breath ready for him to let go and let you fall.

But he doesn't let go, your grip on his shoulders never slips. You open your eyes, a bit blurry from wetness but you can make out his face, because it's right in front of you even though you're bent over the balcony far enough that your feet have left the ground. You stare back at his unrelenting gaze. In the dim light of the moon his eyes look even darker than before and something new swims in the deep black of his pupils, something sad.

They are lidded as they examine your face, your entire being. His hand on your back presses your chest further into his until you're sure he can feel your rapid heartbeat through your very flesh.

He lifts you upright again, turning you away from the ledge and out of harms way. You’re still chest to chest, he’s so close but you can’t feel him breathe. Your wide eyes stare up at him, trying to discern his expression. Your breaths are short and your grip on him hasn’t let up a bit.

He brings his hands up to your cheeks, the warm fabric of his gloves on your cold cheeks has you easing into them far too easily. His eyes examine every inch of your face while his thumbs stroke your cheeks, you can just barely see the frown on his lips behind the painted smile. He brings your face closer to his, slow and methodical, making it very clear what his next move is. You’re not sure if this was due to his own hesitation or to give you time to pull away, regardless you let him inch closer and closer until his lips grazed yours and you finally feel him breathe out one long breath.

The kiss is deep. Despite being slow and gentle, it still forces a struggled breath from you. You would’ve thought he tasted like paint but he doesn’t, he’s warm and inviting. It’s nice.

Your eyes close, surrendering all hesitation to the stranger in your arms. Fingers dig into the fabric of his puffy striped sleeves as your body melts further into his. You quickly learn to breathe through your nose, out of necessity and unwillingness to part from his affections.

You let him work your mouth open, slipping his tongue inside. The feeling is so foreign, you can’t help but whine. The backs of his fingers flutter over your throat and you shiver.

His tongue fills your mouth, sliding along yours and savouring your taste. The wet muscle reaches far into your mouth, farther than you thought normal but your experience is slim and you don’t have the awareness to fully question it. It’s overwhelming. Your knees tremble and he lowers you both to the cold stone floor. His tongue reaches into your throat, a feat you know is impossible.

You’re too lost to even think of the implications of this, as you gag and convulse around the thick muscle in your throat that no longer feels like a normal tongue. He reaches so far, your eyes roll back, your lower region warms uncomfortably and you forget how to breathe. You tap his shoulders quickly, a plea for air, and he retreats from your throat. He holds you as you cough and heave, wiping the spit from your chin.

You look at him with the an expression full of shock and fear and bewilderment and every other emotion shooting through your fuzzy mind. His expression is hard to discern but he seems both amused and sad.

He stands and brings you up on shaky legs. When he starts to back away, you panic and clutch his hands tighter. You don’t know what you were hoping for. That he would stay? That he would spend the night with you?

His face is full of what you hope is longing and not pity, you know what pity looks like. He holds you close in what you know is a goodbye embrace. He presses his forehead to yours and he places one last short kiss on your lips. Its playfull and very much not what you’d consider a proper good bye kiss. You search his gaze and you’re met with rather boyish mirth, lifting your spirits slightly. Maybe this isn't goodbye then?

He winks at you and takes your hand, spinning you around once, twice and three times before he lets go. When you rebalance yourself and look around the balcony, there is no sight of the jester. It's just the pitying sounds of the night and your only other witness, the moon. Like he was never there at all.