#this is the soft moment I was talking about in that earlier ask game answer

[noorpersona]

just read part 6 of rivals w/ atsumu…. zoo wee mama 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 ur just TEW good!!!!! jealous reader is always a fun read lol

ik u already posted an atsumu version for ur jealous series (?) but like… reverse situation where atsumu gets jealous when reader is seemingly cozying up with another guy that isn’t him in the context of rivals…. just throwin it out there hehehehehe

HEHEH THANK YOUU (i really went overboard cause UGHHHH)

I think I got what you're looking though 😩😙

Enjoy <333

--

Anon Asks: Atsumu (NSFW)

The afterparty wasn’t your scene. Not really.

The rooftop lounge glittered with low lighting and clinking glasses, soft music pulsing under conversation that ebbed and flowed like a tide. Some modern Tokyo bar—sleek and expensive, with panoramic views of the skyline and a dress code that required heels too high and smiles too sharp. It smelled like citrus spritz, fresh sweat, and ego.

You weren’t here to impress anyone. You were here for one reason only: to see him.

Atsumu had texted earlier. “Gotta wrap up post-game press, be there in a bit. Don’t let Sakusa talk shit about me too much before I arrive.”

You’d smiled at the message, slipped into your dress, and made your way to the party solo. The win had been solid—MSBY had taken it in four sets, with Atsumu playing one of his most controlled matches in recent memory. You’d seen it in his hands, the way he moved—calculated, sharp, barely restrained.

Now he was off doing damage control with a couple of reporters who liked to probe a little too far past what made it into the official soundbites. You didn’t mind. You knew the drill by now. After three years with Atsumu, patience wasn’t just a virtue—it was a requirement.

You were standing near the bar with a glass of sparkling wine when someone tapped your shoulder.

"Well damn. If it isn’t my fourth grade science partner.”

You turned, startled, before recognition settled into your chest like a stone dropping into still water.

He was taller now. Broader. The baby cheeks you remembered had been replaced by sharp cheekbones and a dimpled grin. His hair was dark and parted at the center, curling slightly at the ends, and he wore a lightweight sport coat like it was second nature.

“…Ryouta?” you asked, brows lifting.

“Bingo,” he grinned, gesturing between you both. “Still got the same face. Just—grown-up.”

You laughed before you could help it. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. What the hell are you doing here?”

“Work,” he said, leaning against the bar like he’d done it a hundred times. “I’m with the JVA now. Media and comms department. I’ve been helping with internal campaign stuff—athlete profiles, team outreach. It’s new, but… legit.”

“That’s wild. I haven’t seen you in—”

“Since we failed that volcano project because we couldn’t agree on what color lava actually was?” he finished, eyes twinkling.

Your smile widened. “Still think red is a cop-out.”

He laughed, the sound familiar and warm in a way that startled you. Nostalgia crept in gently, not overpowering but present enough to make the moment feel oddly suspended.

You moved off to the side together, drinks in hand, and the conversation flowed more easily than you expected. You talked about your shared elementary school, the time you got sent to detention for painting the school mascot purple, the fact that he used to cheat off your math tests until you started writing all your answers backwards just to mess with him.

He told you about how he fell into PR by accident after a marketing internship went well, how he never expected to end up in volleyball again, and how weird it was to be attending afterparties full of pro athletes he used to watch on TV.

“Can’t lie,” he said, glancing around, “you clean up scary well. I wouldn’t have recognized you if you didn’t still raise your eyebrows the same way.”

You snorted, sipping your drink. “That’s weirdly specific.”

“What can I say?” he teased. “Some things stick.”

You weren’t flirting. You knew that. And still—there was something easy about talking to someone who knew you before high school, before volleyball, before everything. Someone who saw you before you were who you were now.

You didn’t notice the way time was passing. But someone else did.

Atsumu arrived just under twenty minutes later, stepping into the lounge with the smooth confidence of someone who knew all eyes followed him when he moved. He wasn’t dressed to impress—just black slacks, an open collar, and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled neatly to the elbow. He was flushed faintly from earlier exertion, hair still damp around the temples, and his gold eyes scanned the room with habitual sharpness.

They found you immediately.

He saw the guy. Saw how you were angled slightly toward him. Saw the way you laughed—small and genuine—and the way your drink was now halfway gone.

The look on Atsumu’s face was unreadable. His expression didn’t change, not really. But his jaw flexed once, and he didn’t walk toward you.

Not yet.

He stood off to the side, hands in his pockets, posture too casual to be natural. Watching. Measuring. Waiting.

Sakusa nudged him. “That your girlfriend talking to—whoever that is?”

Atsumu didn’t answer. Just narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Oh,” Sakusa said blandly. “You’re pissed.”

Atsumu gave him a look. “No shit.”

You didn’t notice the shift in the air until it was nearly too late.

Ryouta had just finished telling you about a disastrous campaign involving an accidentally misspelled slogan on a national team ad — something that went viral for all the wrong reasons — when you felt it. That creeping pressure, like someone watching too closely. Your back straightened slightly, instinct kicking in before your mind could catch up.

You turned your head.

And there he was.

Atsumu, maybe ten feet away. Staring.

Your breath hitched — not because you were doing anything wrong, but because of the look on his face. Tense. Composed. Gold eyes too steady. You knew that version of him. It meant a storm was brewing behind his tongue.

“Tsumu,” you called softly, lifting your hand.

He didn’t wave. Just approached, slow and deliberate, like a lion that had already caught the scent.

Ryouta followed your gaze and blinked. “Oh. That’s him, huh?”

You swallowed. “Yeah.”

Atsumu stopped beside you and tilted his head slightly at Ryouta, smile tight. “Don’t think we’ve met.”

Ryouta, oblivious or bold — maybe both — extended a hand. “Ryouta. Old friend. We were in the same class forever ago.”

Atsumu shook it. Too firmly. “Atsumu. Her boyfriend.”

The silence that followed stretched just long enough to sting.

Ryouta cleared his throat. “You played a great match tonight. Your control in the second set was impressive.”

Atsumu shrugged like he didn’t care. “Guess you’re real observant, then.”

You blinked at him. “Atsumu.”

He finally looked at you.

And that’s when you saw it — the tight coil in his shoulders, the barely-contained frustration just under his skin. Not fury. Not anger. But something older. Possessive. Dangerous. Familiar.

“I should let you two catch up,” Ryouta said, stepping back. “Good to see you again.”

You nodded, exhaling slowly as he walked away.

Atsumu didn’t say a word until Ryouta disappeared into the crowd.

Then:

“You flirt like that with every old classmate or was tonight a special fuckin’ occasion?”

Your mouth parted. “Excuse me?”

“You were hangin’ off him.”

“I was not.”

“You were laughing at everything he said like it was the funniest shit you’ve ever heard.”

“Because he was funny, Atsumu. I know him. We were just catching up.”

His jaw flexed again, but his voice didn’t raise. That was worse. “He was touchin’ your arm.”

“For like two seconds—”

“He was leanin’ in like he wanted to taste your breath.”

“God, you’re being so—”

“What?” he asked, stepping closer. “Jealous? Too fuckin’ bad.”

You stared up at him, your own pulse rising. “That’s not what this is about and you know it.”

“Oh really?”

“You’re pissed because you weren’t here when I walked in. Because I wasn’t waiting by the door like some show dog for you to collect.”

His eyes narrowed. “Watch it.”

“No,” you snapped, poking a finger into his chest. “You don’t get to make me feel guilty for talking to someone you’ve never even met.”

He laughed once, bitter. “I know exactly what I saw.”

“Yeah? Then maybe next time show up when you say you will.”

That landed. He didn’t move. Just stared, breathing slow and deliberate, hands curled into fists at his sides.

You held his gaze for a beat longer, then turned sharply. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Sure,” he said under his breath. “Run off.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to. You stormed away, weaving through bodies and music until you reached the far hallway where the single-occupant restrooms were tucked behind a velvet rope.

You slipped inside, locked the door, and pressed your back to it, chest rising and falling in uneven beats.

Your heart thudded beneath your ribs — from the fight, from the tension, from something else. Your hands were shaking. Not out of fear. Out of the strange electric thrill that always came from standing toe to toe with him, matching him fire for fire.

You didn’t hear the knock.

You only heard the lock twist open.

And then he was there. Filling the doorway. Chest heaving. Eyes burning.

“I wasn’t done with you,” he said.

You swallowed. “You followed me.”

“I always follow you.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to fight again, but he was already stepping forward, pressing you back against the wall with nothing but the heat of his body.

His hand landed beside your head, palm flat against the door. His other hand found your waist.

“I didn’t like it,” he said, voice low. “The way he looked at you.”

“Tough,” you said, breath catching.

“You’re mine.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

Your lips parted—but then his mouth was already on yours.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Atsumu’s mouth was already moving against yours, hot and unrelenting. There was nothing gentle about it. It was claiming—raw and messy, built from jealousy and the way you argued like you wanted to be pinned. His teeth caught your bottom lip, and your hands flew up to grip his shirt, clutching tight, like that was the only way to stay grounded.

“Fuckin’ knew it,” he muttered against your mouth. “You like gettin’ me riled up.”

“You’re insane,” you whispered back, gasping when his hand dropped to your thigh, squeezing hard.

“Tell me to stop,” he growled, already bunching up the fabric of your dress, sliding it high enough to reveal your panties.

You didn’t. Wouldn’t.

The air between you throbbed with heat and unresolved anger, with the ache of being seen and wanted so completely.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, hand cupping the back of your neck as the other slipped between your thighs. His fingers grazed the edge of your underwear, dragging the thin fabric to the side with a kind of reverent disrespect that made your stomach drop.

“You’re soaked,” he said, voice dropping lower, teasing. “And here I thought you were mad at me.”

You could barely respond, breath fluttering out in a shaky half-laugh. “Shut up.”

“Yeah?” His fingers slid through your folds, spreading slick warmth across your skin. “Thought you might be drippin’ for him for a second.”

Your head thudded lightly against the door behind you. “Don’t start.”

He chuckled darkly, and then two fingers pressed into you in a single, smooth thrust.

You gasped—sharp and sudden—gripping his arm.

His palm settled against your mound, anchoring him as he pumped his fingers slowly, deliberately, curling them just enough to make your legs quake. His eyes never left your face, watching the way your expression crumbled with every stroke, every wet sound of him moving inside you.

“That's it,” he murmured, leaning close enough to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Let me hear you.”

“We’re in a bathroom—”

“So?” His thumb began to rub slow, tight circles around your clit. “You think anyone’s gonna say shit to me?”

Your reply melted into a moan, bitten off at the edge as you buried your face in his shoulder.

His rhythm never faltered. The fingers inside you curled and stroked with practiced ease, filling you just enough to ache for more. His thumb moved in time with your breath, coaxing you toward the edge with every flick, every grind.

You clenched around him without meaning to, the pressure building fast, too fast. Every nerve in your body felt lit from within, tethered to his hand and the molten heat of his mouth against your jaw.

“You gonna come?” he whispered. “Right here with my fingers in you?”

You nodded, desperate, thighs trembling.

“Then come, baby,” he said against your ear. “Let me feel it.”

You broke.

Your moan caught in your throat as your hips bucked forward, grinding down onto his hand. The orgasm rolled through you hard, your walls fluttering around his fingers, your breath ragged as you shook against him.

He didn’t stop until you physically twitched away from the overstimulation, gasping for air. He eased his fingers out slowly, eyes on your face the whole time, like he was cataloging every little tremor.

And then—without breaking eye contact—he brought his fingers to his mouth.

Sucked them clean.

You stared, stunned, pulse still pounding in your ears.

“You gonna behave now?” he asked, cocky and breathless.

“You’re an asshole,” you said, cheeks burning.

“Yeah,” he agreed, grinning as he reached to fix your underwear, then smoothed your dress down with slow, practiced hands. “But I’m your asshole.”

You glared, but your legs were still weak, your mouth still swollen from his kisses. He fixed your hair gently, ran his thumb under your eyes to smudge away anything left behind. It was intimate in a way that undid you more than the orgasm.

He kissed your temple, hand resting low on your waist. “You ready?”

You swallowed, nodded.

He opened the bathroom door with casual ease, and you stepped out together.

The party hadn’t changed—music still thumping softly, lights still low, voices still buzzing.

But your cheeks were flushed. Your lips slightly parted. Your hair just a little mussed.

And Ryouta was standing near the bar, talking to someone from his team.

He glanced up.

Saw you.

Saw Atsumu’s hand on your hip, the way he was guiding you out like he’d already won.

Ryouta blinked. Said nothing.

Atsumu didn’t even look his way. Just leaned down and murmured in your ear, “Let’s go home.”

You followed him without a word, legs still trembling with every step.

[poguehearted77]

Imagine y’all just had the fight of your lives (maybe over his dumb gun or something equally Rafe), but later when you’re lying on opposite sides of the bed, he reaches out and pulls you close and says somthing cute or annoying idk And then, oh my GOD—it’s slow, emotional, and HOT because making up with Rafe would be next-level intense. please i NEEED😫😩

OH MY GOD YES. SOME SWEET RAFE AND EVEN SWEETER MAKE UP SEX AFTER A HUGE FIGHT. NEED IT.

#2 from my drabble game

smut: penetrative sex, some praise, I love you's, unprotected sex

Rafe is in deep shit.

You know that, he knows that-- hell, even your pet beagle, Poppy knew it. For once, she bolted away the moment the front door opened, and your oh-so-handsome, conniving and deceitful boyfriend walked in instead of running towards him.

Rafe is a dead man walking. How ironic would it be if he were to die at your hands with the very same gun he'd promised you he'd gotten rid of.

His body goes rigid when he sees the weapon in your palm. A nervous gulp falls down his throat as he does his best to stand tall. "Where did you get that?" That's what he asks you, he should've never opened his mouth.

You scoff immediately, carelessly angling it around as your upset mannerisms control your arms. "Get it? You mean where did I find it." He doesn't respond which is a wise choice.

"Mr. Montogommery called me earlier, he was looking for you--said you weren't answering your phone. He asked me to leave you a message," You're pacing now, and it made Rafe nervous. You're a little crazy, but so was he. It's why you went so well together.

"Like the good girlfriend I am, I opened your office drawer for a sticky note to leave on your desk, but what did I find? The same gun you told me would never be back in the house, Rafe are you serious?!" Your arms are flailing and he's half-certain he'll catch a stray by the end of the conversation.

He steps towards you with his hands up cautiously, "Baby, give me the gun, and we can talk about this." You snap, "No! Why should I? You don't trust me with it? Why because it's dangerous? Because it could kill you! You're right, Rafe. Why didn't I think of that sooner--oh wait, I did! And you fucking lied to me, Rafe."

Your voice is enraged and bouncing off the ivory-panelled walls of the house but it dies down to a shaky one as tears threaten to spill over the brims of your eyes. "Y/n-" He holds his hand out for you, but you give him the gun instead.

You execute a sharp pivot on the tips of your toes, ready to walk away from him but he finally speaks up and you stop--not turning around, standing still, anticipating. "I'm not getting rid of the gun." It's all he says.

Had you been in the mood, you would've turned around, lounged at him and strangled him, but no, you just kept walking.

Your bedroom is freezing that night, despite it being the middle of summer, and it only gets colder everytime you glance towards Rafe as he gets ready for the bed you begrudgingly shared.

Your expression remains sour, even in your sleep, no matter how far away from your boyfriend you are. There's enough room to fit a full-grown adult between you. The isolation was holding the production of your melatonin hostage, forcing you both to lay awake, backs facing each other but hearts reaching out.

Rafe flips onto his side, staring longingly at the back of your frame. He missed you and you were right in front of him. "Baby," His voice is soft, and the pet name lands on you gently, a testament that your anger has subsided a bit.

You turn over, choosing to lie on your back and face the ceiling. You deem that he's undeserving to see your face at the moment. "I've got another gun in my nightstand." You blamed your miscomprehension on the late hours of the night because surely he did not just say what you think he said.

Rafe can see the way your chest began to rise and fall at a much more shallow pace, he had about five seconds to start explaining before you turned on him. "I told you about my past. I've done some bad things. 'Burying the hatchet' doesn't exist for everyone, and I want to be prepared for anything. When I look at a gun now, it's not a weapon anymore, it's a tool. It's protection."

Your breathing slowed, a little. He takes it as a good sign. "I can't lose you. If something happened to you when I could've prevented it, I'd never forgive myself, and I know you know that." He's right. You did know that. He dedicated his life to you, making sure that you knew that. "I shouldn't have lied about getting rid of it, and I'm sorry."

Your breathing returns to its normal pace. You lay on your side, now facing him. "Fine." Rafe scoots closer to you, a small grin working its way on his lips. "Fine?" You nod, "Yeah, fine. I forgive you, this time, but don't you ever pull some shit like this again or so help me god I will-" He quiets you with a sweet kiss.

Well, it started sweet at least.

Now you're both watching him slide in. Your warm cunt wrapped around his length delightfully. "You're fuckin' perfect, too good f'me." He groans into your ear. His muscular arms cage you in, and you've decided you'd be more than happy to die between them.

Your soft moans bounced off his brawny chest and right back in your face, "Feels so good, Rafe-" Yougaspedp as he picked up the pace, hips rolling into yours for a much deeper angle. Your back arches off the bed slightly as sweat rolls down your back and sticks to the sheets.

It wasn't long before you were both chasing your highs. Rafe always sounded so fucking hot when he was close, his deep groans pitching up to breathless whines when you purposefully clenched around him, threatening him to fill you up unrestrained. Once you came, he pulled out and finished on your heaving stomach, catching your breath.

He doesn't get off of you just yet. He balances himself on one forearm as the other hand comes up to gently move the strands of hair from your face, "I love you," he means it, his eyes say it when his mouth does. "I love you".

[shy9-29]

When The Calls Stopped [Alt Ending p2]

“Sometimes, love isn’t about perfection; it’s about finding a way through the mess, together.”

SOMAR𝒊O ─── After everything that had happened with Sunghoon, you never expected to find yourself here — walking alongside Heeseung, hand in hand, with Niki trailing behind, his usual sarcastic remarks filling the space between you. It wasn’t perfect, but it felt real, and for once, you weren’t consumed by the past. The lingering tension had faded, replaced with something simpler, something worth fighting for. Despite the ups and downs, the drama, and the confusion, you were finally moving forward, together. ex 박성훈 x 이희승 𝐱 𝑓. reader ✉️ wc. 32.8k ✶ careful ! skinship, kissing, swearing, ptsd, etc 🔖

pt 1 · ver 1 · masterlist

The rest of the members slowly drifted back into their usual playful banter. Heeseung and Jay were cracking jokes, Jake teasing Sunghoon about the volleyball game earlier, and Sunoo sassing someone about poolside etiquette. But despite the easygoing vibe, you couldn’t shake the heaviness that clung to your heart.

You found yourself glancing at Sunghoon again, but this time, he wasn’t looking at you. His focus was elsewhere, and it almost felt like a small relief. Maybe the distance between you was growing, but you didn’t know how to feel about it. Was it what you needed? Or had you lost something too precious to fix?

As the laughter continued around you, the sound of raindrops on the roof became a faint lullaby, soft but persistent, like a reminder that you couldn’t outrun your feelings, no matter how far you tried to go.

Niki turned to you after a while, catching your eyes. “You wanna take a walk?” he asked softly. “We can get some fresh air outside, away from all this.”

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded, needing the break from the tension that had been building all night. Maybe a walk in the rain would help clear your head—or at least give you a moment of space from all the chaos.

The two of you made your way outside, the cool rain greeting you once again. It was calming, in a way. Maybe you didn’t have all the answers, but at least you were starting to figure things out, piece by piece.

For now, that was enough. And that, in itself, felt like progress.

As you stepped outside into the rain, the cool droplets against your skin felt refreshing, but the knot in your stomach was far from untangling. Niki, ever observant, didn’t say a word as you both walked a little ways down the path, the sound of the rain filling the silence.

Finally, he glanced over at you, his expression soft but serious. “So, what’s going on?” he asked gently. “I know something’s been off today. You want to talk about it?”

You took a deep breath, the weight of the emotions that had been building inside of you since yesterday threatening to spill over. The words felt like they had been sitting on the tip of your tongue for hours, but you just couldn’t quite get them out. But with Niki’s steady presence beside you, it felt right to finally say them.

“I just… don’t know what to do anymore,” you admitted, your voice quieter than you intended. “I thought maybe things could work with Sunghoon again. But everything’s so complicated. Every time we try to talk, it feels like there’s something missing. Like he’s not the same anymore.”

Niki listened intently, nodding as you spoke, before pausing for a moment to let your words settle in. The rain was still pouring around you, but somehow, you felt a little lighter, like you were finally getting the weight off your chest.

He shifted his gaze to you, his expression thoughtful. “Well… what do you think?” he asked, his voice low but probing. “What do you want?”

The question caught you off guard. You had been so focused on what Sunghoon needed, on what was happening between you two, that you hadn’t really thought about what you wanted—for yourself, for your heart.

You stared out at the rain for a moment, taking in the steady rhythm of the downpour. You wanted things to be different. You wanted things to go back to how they were. But deep down, you knew that wasn’t possible anymore.

“I don’t know,” you said, more to yourself than to Niki. “I want to believe things can go back to normal. But every time I try, it feels like we’re just getting further apart.”

Niki looked at you carefully, not rushing you, letting you process your thoughts. After a moment, he spoke up again, his voice soft but firm. “You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. You can take your time. But whatever happens with Sunghoon, just make sure you’re looking out for yourself, too.”

You nodded slowly, taking in his words. It was hard to think about yourself after everything that had happened, but maybe Niki was right. Maybe it was time to focus on what you truly needed, without the pressure of trying to make something work that wasn’t meant to.

“Thanks, Niki,” you murmured, finally feeling like you could breathe a little easier.

He flashed you a small smile, giving your shoulder a reassuring pat. “No problem. You’re not alone in this.”

And as the two of you stood there in the rain, the weight of everything didn’t feel as heavy anymore. You still didn’t have all the answers, but you felt like, for the first time in a while, you were starting to figure it out.

You walked back into the pool area, the warmth of the indoor space a stark contrast to the pouring rain outside. Despite the comfort, the storm inside your mind hadn’t let up. It felt like everything had changed so quickly, and yet, you were still standing here, unsure of what to do next. You took in a deep breath as you walked in, hoping the space and the fresh air would help you figure things out.

As you entered, you noticed the others scattered around the area. Heeseung was sitting with some of the other members, laughing and joking. He looked up when you walked in, his eyes softening just slightly as they met yours. But then your gaze shifted. On the other side of the room, Sunghoon sat alone, his back slumped and his head down, his gaze lost in the distance. The contrast between them couldn’t have been more evident. You felt a pang in your chest, but you pushed it down.

For a moment, you just stood there, weighing your options. You could walk over to Sunghoon, try to talk things through, see if he’d say anything that could change your mind. But as you watched him, something in you clicked. It was like the weight of the past few weeks hit you all at once, and you realized you couldn’t keep holding on to something that wasn’t real anymore. You had to make a choice.

Without thinking too much about it, you turned your attention to Heeseung. The conversation you had earlier had stirred something in you—something you hadn’t expected. There was a calmness to him that made you feel safe, like maybe you could find the answers you were looking for in him.

You walked over to him, each step making your heart race a little faster. He looked up as you approached, offering a small smile. You didn’t say anything right away, just stood there for a moment. The air between you felt thick with anticipation. Heeseung seemed to know what was coming before you did.

“So,” Heeseung started softly, “what now?”

You swallowed, your throat dry. “I… I think I need to make a decision,” you said, your voice shaky. “I can’t keep going like this, torn between two people and not knowing what I want anymore.”

Heeseung’s expression softened, and he nodded slightly, as if he understood exactly what you meant. You hesitated for a moment before leaning forward and kissing him, just gently at first. Your lips brushed against his, and the tension in your chest seemed to dissipate with every second that passed. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t some declaration of love. It was simply the start of something new, something that felt right.

When you pulled back, Heeseung was looking at you with wide eyes, a mix of surprise and something else you couldn’t quite place. You stood there, breathing heavily, but you could feel a kind of calm settle over you.

Just as you began to step back, you noticed Sunghoon. His gaze was fixed on you, his expression unreadable. It was like everything stopped for a moment. You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by Sunoo, who gasped loudly, catching everyone’s attention. “No way,” he said, eyes wide in surprise. “Did you two—?”

Niki, who had been sitting nearby, scoffed and rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “About time,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I’ve been waiting for this to happen. You two were obvious.”

You turned away quickly, feeling the weight of the moment settle in. But before you could leave the pool area, Sunghoon stood up, walking over to you. His face was tense, his jaw set, and for a moment, you thought he might say something, but he just stood there in front of you, looking like he was searching for the right words.

You swallowed hard, but before you could say anything, Heeseung stood up too, his expression soft but serious. He glanced between you and Sunghoon, sensing the tension in the air.

“I’m not going to stay in the middle of this,” Heeseung said quietly, his voice steady as he gave you one last look before walking away.

“Is this how it’s going to be?” Sunghoon asked, his voice low. There was a hurt in his eyes, something you couldn’t ignore.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, shaking your head. “But I can’t keep pretending like nothing’s changed.”

He seemed to take a step forward, but you quickly turned away, not wanting to deal with the chaos in your chest. You walked out of the pool area, trying to ignore the look on Sunghoon’s face.

As you left, Niki caught up with you, a mischievous smile on his face. “Well, that was interesting,” he said, nudging you with his elbow. “What do you think? You gonna let Heeseung prove he’s the better choice?”

You sighed, unsure how to respond. “I don’t know what’s going to happen,” you muttered, feeling the weight of the decision you just made.

Niki laughed. “You’re a mess, but hey, at least you’re not holding yourself back anymore.”

“I guess so,” you said, smiling a little. For the first time in a long time, it felt like you were moving forward—one step at a time.

As you walked away, your heart was heavy, but there was a sense of clarity in the chaos. The storm inside you hadn’t completely passed, but you were ready to face it.

And for now, that was enough.

As you walked away from the pool, the rain still pouring down in heavy sheets, you could feel the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on you. You didn’t have to turn around to know who was following you—Heeseung’s quiet, steady presence was a comfort in the chaos.

Heeseung caught up with you easily, his voice soft but clear over the sound of the rain. “Hey, do you want to go back to the hotel? I can walk you there.”

You nodded, grateful for the simplicity of his offer. The last few hours had been a whirlwind of emotions, and for once, you didn’t need to make any decisions. You just needed to get away from the noise, to find some calm.

Without another word, Heeseung grabbed an umbrella from the nearby stand, flicked it open with a practiced motion, and held it above the two of you. The sound of the rain hitting the fabric of the umbrella was steady and soothing, muffling everything else around you. The cool air of the night wrapped around you both, but the umbrella kept you dry, offering a small shield from the storm.

You walked side by side, the distance between you and Heeseung closing as you moved in sync. There was a quiet tension in the air, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt like the world had slowed down for just the two of you.

As you walked, Heeseung glanced at you, his expression unreadable at first. Then, slowly, he reached out, his fingers brushing against yours lightly. It wasn’t sudden; it wasn’t forced. It was just… natural, the way he interlaced his fingers with yours, as if it was always meant to be that way.

Your heart skipped a beat at the warmth of his hand, a stark contrast to the cold rain that still drenched the earth around you. You didn’t say anything; you didn’t need to. There was something comforting about the simplicity of the gesture, the unspoken connection it brought. His hand felt steady, grounding you in the midst of everything that had happened.

“Are you okay?” Heeseung asked quietly, his voice almost lost to the rain.

You nodded, still finding it hard to form words. Your emotions were a tangled mess, but in this moment, with his hand in yours and the sound of the rain all around you, it felt like a small piece of calm.

Heeseung squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing against your skin, the motion almost reassuring. The umbrella kept you both dry, but it was the quiet companionship that truly made you feel safe, like you weren’t facing the world alone.

You continued to walk side by side, hand in hand, not needing to rush, just taking it all in. The path back to the hotel seemed far less daunting with Heeseung beside you. You weren’t sure what the future would bring, whether you’d find answers with Sunghoon or explore what this connection with Heeseung could become.

But for now, with the rain falling softly around you and Heeseung’s hand holding yours, everything felt just a little bit more possible.

Falling into something new with Heeseung wasn’t as simple as flipping a switch. Your heart was still learning how to let go of Sunghoon, still aching in the quiet corners of the night, but Heeseung didn’t rush you. He never asked for more than you were ready to give. And maybe that’s what made it all feel so different—so real.

Heeseung was patient, always showing up without demanding anything in return. He never filled the silences with empty words. He just… existed beside you. And slowly, without realizing it, you started to lean into him.

One morning, a week after returning from Busan, you woke up to a text:

[Heeseung]

I found a café that has those insane croffles you mentioned like a month ago. Wanna go? Also, don’t bring Niki.

Which was hilarious, because the second you stepped out of your apartment, Niki was already waiting on the curb with his hoodie pulled halfway over his face. “Don’t mind me,” he said, sliding into the backseat of Heeseung’s car. “I’m just tagging along as moral support.”

You shot Heeseung a look. He just laughed, not even pretending to be surprised.

Still, the day was warm and soft and good. The café was tucked in a quiet corner of Seoul, with pale wood tables and sleepy music playing overhead. You sat across from Heeseung, the croffle between you two half-eaten, your coffee long forgotten. He had a piece of whipped cream on the corner of his lip, and you reached out without thinking to wipe it off with your thumb.

He blinked, surprised, and your fingers paused for half a second too long. Your heart thudded. So did his.

“Do that again,” he said quietly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Do what?”

“That thing where you pretend you don’t like me but still touch me like that.”

You blushed, pulling your hand back, and from the booth across the room—because of course he moved to give you “space”—Niki groaned.

“I am LITERALLY right here.”

You and Heeseung burst out laughing, and it didn’t matter that you were still healing. It didn’t matter that pieces of your heart still remembered Sunghoon. Because in that moment, your chest felt light. Real. Like maybe you were learning how to love again.

Later that night, Heeseung walked you back to your door. You talked about the most random things—his fear of horror movies, your obsession with late-night convenience store snacks, the way neither of you understood how Niki functioned on three hours of sleep and energy drinks alone.

He paused at your doorstep, his hands in his pockets. “This is nice, y’know. Just… getting to know you like this.”

You nodded, stepping a little closer. “It is.”

And for a second, it felt like the world slowed. The hurt didn’t vanish. But the hope? That was real.

From somewhere down the hall, you heard Niki yell, “I’m starving! Can we eat now or are you two gonna make me third wheel another soft indie romance scene?”

You both laughed again, and Heeseung nudged your shoulder with his. “Next time, we leave him at home.”

But you weren’t so sure. Maybe Niki was the chaos that kept things grounded—and maybe that was part of what made this new beginning so good.

Slowly, you were figuring it out. Together.

Sometimes, without even realizing it, Sunghoon slipped into your conversations.

It wasn’t on purpose—it never was—but when you were out with Heeseung, trying a new boba place and ordering the same lychee green tea you always did, you’d take a sip and offhandedly say, “Sunghoon used to love this too.”

Or when Heeseung handed you his hoodie because you forgot yours and it was colder than expected, you’d smile softly and mumble, “Sunghoon used to do that for me.”

The words would hang in the air for a moment, a little heavy. Not bitter. Just… real. Honest. And Heeseung never flinched. He never snapped or made a face. He’d just nod quietly, sometimes giving you a small smile like he understood even when he didn’t fully know how it felt.

One time, when you were walking through a bookstore together, you paused in front of a shelf lined with graphic novels. You traced your fingers along the spine of one and whispered, “That one was Sunghoon’s favorite. He’d read it on the way to practice.”

Heeseung watched you carefully. “Do you want to get it?”

You blinked. “What?”

“I mean, if it makes you happy—if it reminds you of something good—then yeah. Let’s get it.”

It made your throat tighten a little. Not because you missed Sunghoon—well, maybe a part of you did—but because Heeseung wasn’t trying to erase your past. He wasn’t trying to compete with it.

He was just… choosing to stand in it with you. To make space for your memories, even if they weren’t about him.

You still caught yourself sometimes, rambling about something Sunghoon used to say or how he always used too much soy sauce when he cooked ramen. But each time, Heeseung would just listen.

And slowly, without pressure or force, you started making new memories. Ones where Heeseung was the one handing you the hoodie. The one sitting beside you with a drink in his hand. The one who didn’t mind being in the shadow of someone else’s history, because he believed in what was building now.

And that meant everything.

It was late—too late for anyone to be awake, but that didn’t stop Niki from barging into Heeseung’s room, plopping down dramatically onto the edge of his bed like he owned the place.

Heeseung, already half-asleep with his phone dimmed on his chest, groaned and cracked one eye open. “Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”

“Nope,” Niki said, folding his arms. “Are you ever gonna talk to Y/N about the whole Sunghoon thing?”

That woke Heeseung up fully. He sat up, blinking at Niki. “What are you even talking about?”

“You know what I mean,” Niki said, narrowing his eyes. “You’re with her, yeah. You guys are cute and all. But she still talks about him sometimes, like it’s muscle memory. And I know it bugs you.”

Heeseung was quiet for a moment, jaw tightening.

Niki leaned back, his voice gentler now. “You act like it doesn’t matter. But come on, hyung. You’re falling for her, aren’t you?”

Heeseung didn’t answer right away. He stared down at the comforter, fingers absently twisting a loose thread.

“I know she’s still healing,” he said finally. “And I don’t want to make her feel guilty for that. She loved him. Maybe she still does. But yeah… it hurts sometimes. Not because she mentions him, but because I’m scared I’ll never be more than a second choice.”

Niki nodded, unusually serious. “Then tell her. Before it starts growing into something ugly.”

Heeseung sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just don’t want to ruin it. Things are finally starting to feel good between us.”

“Then be honest before they feel fake,” Niki said bluntly. “She deserves that. You do too.”

Heeseung stayed quiet, his mind racing. He knew Niki was right.

It wasn’t about competing with Sunghoon. It was about wanting to be seen��really seen—for who he was. Not the rebound. Not the safe option.

Just… Heeseung.

Just three days.

That’s all that was left until their big comeback, and the atmosphere around the boys had completely shifted. You could feel it—even through texts, even from afar. Pressure had replaced the usual excitement. Everyone was stretched thin, especially Heeseung.

From early morning until late at night, he was rehearsing choreography until his legs gave out, re-recording vocals until his throat was raw, attending back-to-back meetings, fittings, and filming content. He told you they barely had time to breathe, let alone think about anything else. And you understood… to an extent.

But still, he’d always found a way to message you. A quick “miss u” or a blurry selfie from the dance studio mirror. Even when he was dead tired, he’d squeeze in a late-night FaceTime call, his voice soft and low, just to say goodnight.

But today? Nothing.

You tried not to overthink it. Told yourself he was probably just too busy. But as the hours ticked by, the silence felt heavier, more unsettling than usual.

Your fingers hovered over your phone for a while before you finally texted him:

you: busy?

You stared at the screen, waiting for the little gray typing bubbles to appear. They didn’t.

You sighed, locking your phone. Maybe he was still in practice. Maybe he didn’t see it. Maybe—

Ping.

You nearly dropped your phone picking it up that fast.

heeseung: yeah, sorry. with the comeback and everything it’s hard to keep up. i promise i’ll call u back later tho.

Your heart lifted slightly—but only for a moment. The message was short, a little rushed, like his head wasn’t really in it. And the “I promise” part? It made you smile faintly. You wanted to believe it.

So you waited.

You stayed up later than usual. Kept checking your phone. Left the ringer on in case you dozed off. You even imagined what he might say—how his voice would sound groggy but warm, how he’d apologize for the delay, maybe tell you about a funny moment during rehearsal or how Jake tripped over a mic cord again.

But nothing came.

No call. No goodnight text. Just silence.

You lay back in bed, phone resting on your chest, staring up at the ceiling as your heart sank just a little. It was happening again. That familiar ache in your chest. That lingering question.

Am I being forgotten?

You didn’t want to think that way. Not with Heeseung. Not after everything.

But it was hard not to.

You turned your phone screen off and rolled to your side, whispering to the dark room, “He probably just fell asleep…”

And even though part of you knew that was true—knew how hard he was working and how exhausted he must be—it didn’t stop the doubt from creeping in.

Because that’s what silence does. It makes room for fear.

And the last time you ignored the silence… it almost destroyed you.

It was almost 1 a.m. and you were still wide awake—heart racing, thoughts spiraling. You knew you were probably overthinking it. You knew how hard Heeseung was working, how demanding every single second of his day must’ve been. But the worry wouldn’t leave you alone. Not after the silence. Not after how things ended with Sunghoon.

So before you could talk yourself out of it, you threw on a hoodie, grabbed your phone, and slipped out of your room.

The dorm building was quiet, the kind of stillness that only came in the middle of the night. You hesitated outside the door, chewing on your lip before finally knocking—soft at first, then a little louder.

It took a minute, but the door creaked open to reveal Jake, his hair a mess, eyes still half-lidded from sleep.

He blinked at you. “Y/N?”

“Hey,” you said softly, shifting on your feet. “I… I’m sorry, I know it’s super late. I just—I needed to see if Heeseung was okay.”

Jake rubbed his face and stepped aside, letting you in without a second thought. “He’s knocked out cold. Been that way since we got back. He literally passed out after his shower.”

You stepped into their dorm, your gaze immediately falling on Heeseung, curled up on his side on the lower bunk, his breathing steady and slow. His hair was still slightly damp. His phone was on the floor, screen dim, unread messages piling up.

You approached him slowly, the weight of your emotions tightening in your chest. You knelt beside the bed, gently brushing your fingers across the blanket near his shoulder.

“Heeseung…” you whispered.

He stirred slightly, eyes fluttering open—barely.

“Y/N…?” His voice was gravelly, laced with exhaustion. “What’re you doing here…?”

“I was worried,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “You didn’t call. I thought maybe something happened.”

He groaned quietly, rubbing his face. “I’m sorry. I… I was gonna call. I just… couldn’t keep my eyes open.”

There was a pause.

“I just—” You swallowed. “Can we talk? I need to tell you something.”

He looked at you through sleep-heavy eyes, and for a second, something in his expression flickered—something that made your chest twist.

“Can we talk about it tomorrow?” he mumbled. “I promise. I just… I can’t right now.”

You froze. Your fingers curled into your sleeves. His voice wasn’t harsh, just tired—so, so tired. But it hit something inside you anyway.

You forced a smile, nodding. “Yeah… yeah, of course. Get some rest.”

But as you sat there quietly, watching him drift back to sleep, that old, sharp ache returned.

The same ache from when Sunghoon started pulling away. The same words. The same late nights waiting. The same lump in your throat.

And suddenly, you couldn’t help but think:

Is this happening again?

Was he pushing you away too?

You blinked back the sting in your eyes, looking at the peaceful rise and fall of his chest. You told yourself not to jump to conclusions. Not to make this into something it wasn’t.

So you stayed there for a few more minutes in silence—just watching, just breathing—before slowly standing and letting yourself out, whispering a quiet thank you to Jake on your way.

You didn’t let yourself cry until you were alone.

Your phone buzzed around mid-morning, right as you were about to convince yourself that maybe he wouldn’t call. You stared at the screen for a second, blinking at the name lighting it up: Heeseung.

You hesitated, a weird twist in your stomach, before answering. “Hello?”

“Hey,” his voice came through, low and a little groggy. “You free right now?”

You sat back on your bed, pulling your knees up. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry about last night,” he said immediately. “I know you came all the way to the dorm to check on me, and I barely gave you anything.”

“It’s okay—” you started, but he cut in gently.

“No, it’s not. I promised to call. I promised to be there. I hate that I made you feel like I wasn’t.” His words were slower than usual, like he was picking each one carefully. “I was just so dead tired, Y/N. I didn’t mean to brush you off. I should’ve handled it better.”

You were quiet for a beat, heart softening at his tone. “I just got scared,” you admitted. “It reminded me of… before. With Sunghoon. The way things slowly started slipping away, and I didn’t even notice until it was too late.”

He was silent for a second, like he was absorbing your words. “I’m not him.”

“I know,” you whispered. “But it’s hard not to be afraid.”

“I get that,” he said, his voice quieter now. “And I don’t blame you. But I meant what I said that night in the rain. I want to be here, Y/N. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”

You exhaled, some of the tightness in your chest loosening. “Okay.”

He smiled softly into the phone. You could hear it in the way his voice brightened just a bit. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Just… don’t disappear on me again, alright?”

“Never,” he promised. “In fact, I’m coming over after practice. And we’re watching whatever cheesy drama you want. I’ll even bring snacks. Jake owes me.”

You laughed, the weight lifting little by little. “Deal.”

And just like that, it felt like the crack in your heart had been seen—and mended, slowly, gently, by someone who didn’t run from it.

You lit the last candle on your desk and took a step back, hands on your hips, admiring your work. The living room was cozy—blankets piled on the couch, pillows fluffed just right, and two mugs already set out beside the bowl of popcorn you’d made earlier. On the screen, the title screen of some ridiculously cheesy drama flickered in wait. You even picked the one with the most over-the-top romance plot, just to make him laugh.

You had even changed into his hoodie—the faded gray one he gave you weeks ago when you said you were cold during a late-night walk. It still smelled like him—clean laundry and something warm and familiar. You pulled the sleeves over your hands, smiling to yourself as you imagined his reaction.

Your phone buzzed on the table. Heart skipping, you rushed over, expecting his classic “on my way” or something equally playful.

But it wasn’t that.

Heeseung:

“Sorry, I have to stay behind. Jake needs help with a certain part of the choreo and we need to nail this before the showcase.”

You stood still, rereading the message over and over again as the hopeful warmth in your chest began to cool. Of course. Of course it was the comeback. Of course it was practice.

You sat down slowly on the couch, the hoodie swallowing your frame as you curled into yourself. You told yourself not to be upset. You told yourself he had every right to stay—this was his dream. His career.

But it still stung.

Because for the first time in a while, you’d really been excited. You thought tonight would be one of those rare nights you got to steal him away from the chaos of rehearsals and bright lights. Just the two of you. Quiet, simple, safe.

Instead, you were back in that space again—canceled plans, late-night excuses, and you trying to remind yourself that you weren’t asking for too much.

You stared at your phone for a second before typing a reply.

You:

“It’s okay. Good luck. Text me when you get home.”

You didn’t hit send right away.

Because deep down, you were wondering—how many more times would you be understanding before you finally broke?

And yet… you still pressed send.

Later that night, around 10 p.m., your phone buzzed with an incoming call. Heeseung’s name flashed on the screen, and for a moment, you stared at it.

You always picked up when he called. You always did, without question. But tonight, it felt different. The movie on your screen, the soft glow of the candles, the empty space beside you—it was all too quiet. And somewhere, in the back of your mind, Sunghoon’s words and actions came crashing back. You didn’t want to deal with it tonight. Not again. Not with Heeseung.

You swiped the notification away, not answering.

A few seconds later, your phone buzzed again. This time, you glanced at the screen and saw the message:

Heeseung:

“I see you’re online.”

A sigh escaped your lips as you looked at it. You knew he would be confused. He’d probably think something was wrong. And maybe something was, but you didn’t want to explain it right now. You didn’t want to get into the mix of everything. You didn’t want to open up the door to feelings you weren’t ready to deal with yet.

So, without another thought, you swiped the screen and turned off your phone. You put it on silent and tossed it onto the couch beside you, trying to focus on the movie. It wasn’t the same without him, without his laughter or commentary about the ridiculous plot twists. But you couldn’t face it, not tonight.

The screen played on, the dialogue becoming white noise as you tried to pull yourself into the world of the movie. The characters’ problems felt trivial in comparison to yours, but for once, you wanted to escape. You let yourself sink further into the couch, the flickering light casting shadows across the room, the rain still drumming against the window.

But even then, a quiet part of you was still waiting for him to call again.

The day of the showcase arrived, but you were far from feeling excited. The members of the group had arrived two hours early to do a run-through, get everything prepared, and check sound levels. You had decided to go help Niki, as he invited you to come and watch. Heeseung had insisted you come to see the showcase with him, but honestly, you weren’t in the mood. You couldn’t shake the frustration from the last couple of days, the confusion, and the emotional turmoil that was wearing you thin.

The thought of seeing Heeseung and trying to act like everything was fine felt like too much. You wanted to distance yourself, but of course, Heeseung wouldn’t let you. After some time, Niki noticed you hadn’t been your usual self, so he let you escape to the back for a while, where you could get away from the chaos.

But as soon as you stepped into the small bathroom, the door clicked behind you. You turned around and froze when you saw Heeseung standing there, leaning against the frame.

“Y/n?” he said quietly.

You exhaled, rolling your eyes. “I’m really not in the mood, Heeseung,” you muttered, trying to walk past him, but he stepped into your path, blocking the door.

“Come on. I didn’t even get to explain last night. I called, but you didn’t pick up,” he said, his voice soft but insistent.

You folded your arms, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. “Oh, so now I’m supposed to give you a break because you’re busy?” you snapped, irritated.

He took a step closer, his gaze softening. “I’m sorry I missed our time together. I really am. But this showcase—everything’s been chaotic. It’s just one thing after another. You knew that when I signed up for this,” he said, but there was a noticeable frustration in his tone.

“And here it is again,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not even listening. You’re so wrapped up in your schedule, your comeback, that I’m just… background noise, aren’t I?”

Heeseung’s eyebrows furrowed. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s always something with you, Heeseung,” you said bitterly. “One missed call becomes six, then ten, and then I’m left wondering why I keep trying.”

The tension between you two felt unbearable. His frustration was starting to match yours. He crossed his arms, the look in his eyes turning sharp. “Is that what this is about? You’re comparing me to him, aren’t you?”

Your stomach churned, but you stood your ground, not wanting to back down. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re still comparing everything to Sunghoon, aren’t you? Every time something goes wrong with us, it all goes back to him,” Heeseung shot back, his voice rising. “Am I just the rebound? Is that all I am to you?”

Your heart dropped, and you shook your head, not knowing how to respond. Heeseung’s voice cracked slightly, frustration seeping through every word. “Why is it that you’re always waiting for me to screw up? So you have an excuse to run back to him?”

You felt your chest tighten, and before you could stop yourself, the words came out in a sharp rush, “I’m not waiting for you to screw up, Heeseung. I’m waiting for you to prove you’re not like him.”

There was silence for a moment. His expression softened, a flash of hurt in his eyes. But then, something in him snapped. He took a step back, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“I’m doing everything I can,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “But it’s like you’re not even trying with me.”

You stared at him, your frustration boiling over. “You think I’m not trying? You’re the one who keeps pulling away, Heeseung. You’re the one who can’t make time for me. You’re the one who said you needed a break, remember?” You couldn’t stop the words from spilling out now. “It’s like you’re just waiting for me to give up on you, and I’m not going to do that. But don’t act like I’m the only one pushing away.”

Heeseung took a deep breath, rubbing his temples. He didn’t say anything more. He just stood there, looking defeated.

You took a step back. “Maybe we should just let this go.”

Before Heeseung could respond, you turned on your heel and walked past him, but the sight of Sunghoon standing in the hallway made your heart stop.

You didn’t even notice that Heeseung was following you until you heard his scoffing voice behind you.

“You couldn’t even wait until I left to go back to him? Seriously, Yn?” Heeseung’s words stung.

Sunghoon looked confused, his eyebrows knitted in confusion. “What are you talking about? I just came here to use the bathroom,” he said, his voice calm but his gaze flicking between the two of you.

Heeseung looked between the two of you, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered under his breath before walking off, frustration written all over his face.

You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say or how to feel. The weight of the situation pressed down on you, and it felt like you were stuck in an endless cycle.

But Sunghoon’s presence made everything more complicated. He gave you a hesitant look, as if waiting for an explanation, but all you could do was take a deep breath and turn away, the emotions too overwhelming to even try and make sense of them right now.

You were caught between two people, two worlds, and no matter what you did, you felt like you couldn’t break free.

The stage was set for their filming, the lights blindingly bright, and the cameras rolling. Heeseung stood at the front, preparing for his part, but there was an obvious tension in his movements. He wasn’t performing like he usually did. Every time he tried to get into the rhythm, something seemed off. His steps were slightly offbeat, his expressions lacking the usual spark. His focus kept flickering, and it was clear his mind wasn’t in the moment.

The manager, who had been quietly observing, let out a long sigh. “Alright, let’s take a short break and try again. Heeseung, we need to get this right,” the manager said, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated but trying to remain professional.

Heeseung, looking tired and defeated, nodded. He took a few steps back from the group, his eyes avoiding anyone’s gaze as he leaned against the wall. His mind was clearly elsewhere—everything was just so overwhelming. His mistakes had been piling up, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He wasn’t focused. He wasn’t there.

Meanwhile, you stood off to the side, watching everything unfold. Your heart hurt, seeing him struggle, but you couldn’t ignore the swirling emotions inside you. It felt like Heeseung was slipping through your fingers, but you also weren’t sure how much more of this back-and-forth you could take. It reminded you so much of Sunghoon, and the way things ended with him still haunted you.

As the members took a brief breather, Sunghoon, who had been standing nearby, noticed Heeseung’s frustration. He watched as the younger man let out a deep sigh, rubbing his face as if to shake off the exhaustion that weighed on him.

Sunghoon hesitated for a moment before walking over to him. “Yo, Heeseung,” he started, his voice low but sincere, “I know you’re not like me. You’ve got your own things going on. But listen… losing Yn was the worst thing that happened to me.”

Heeseung blinked, surprised by the sudden honesty. He turned his head slightly, locking eyes with Sunghoon. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sunghoon leaned against the wall beside him, his expression softening as he spoke. “I’m just saying… I know how much you care about her. And I’ve been there, y’know? I wasn’t always the best to her, and now… I regret it. I know I messed up,” he said, looking down for a moment, a pang of guilt in his voice. “But seeing her pull away, seeing you mess up… it just reminds me of when I kept pushing her away until it was too late.”

Heeseung stood there, processing his words. He had never really thought about it this way. He knew Sunghoon had his regrets, but hearing him say it out loud made everything hit harder.

“I just don’t want to be the guy who loses her too,” Heeseung admitted, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “I can’t help but feel like I’m screwing everything up.”

Sunghoon nodded slowly, his eyes still focused on the floor. “You’ve got to talk to her, man. Don’t make the same mistake I did.”

There was silence between them for a few moments, before Sunghoon added, “Just don’t let her slip away, you know?”

Heeseung nodded slowly, but it was clear the weight of it all was taking a toll on him. The thought of losing you, of everything falling apart, was terrifying to him. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was afraid—afraid he wasn’t enough for you, that he couldn’t live up to your expectations. But more than that, he was afraid he’d push you away just like Sunghoon had.

Meanwhile, you were standing off to the side, trying to keep yourself together. You overheard parts of their conversation, and it made your heart ache. Sunghoon and Heeseung were both carrying the weight of their past mistakes, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were stuck in the middle. You wanted to move forward with Heeseung, but part of you still couldn’t let go of the past—of Sunghoon.

As the break ended, the manager gave the signal to get back into position. Heeseung took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind. The next run-through would be crucial. He couldn’t afford to mess it up again.

He gave Sunghoon a quick nod. “Thanks,” he muttered, before walking back onto the stage, determination back in his eyes.

Sunghoon, still standing near the side, watched him for a moment. He knew how much Heeseung was struggling, but he also knew that the younger man had to figure things out for himself. No one could fix this but him. The only thing Sunghoon could do was let him make the choice—whether it was to move forward or let the same mistakes happen again.

You felt your chest tighten as you watched Heeseung head back onto the stage. You didn’t know what to do anymore. Part of you still wanted to give him a chance, to trust him, but everything about this situation felt like you were walking on a tightrope. Could Heeseung really prove himself to you? Could he truly change and be what you needed him to be?

As the filming resumed, you stayed back, a mixture of emotions swirling inside you. The past, the present, and everything in between—how were you supposed to know what was right?

The practice session went on, and Heeseung was a man on a mission. It was as if a switch had flipped. He was more focused, more precise with his moves. Every step, every beat, everything came together as if the weight of the conversation with Sunghoon had finally broken through the fog in his mind. It was clear to everyone that Heeseung had a renewed energy and determination.

But when practice ended, he looked around the room. The members were gathering their things, chatting with one another, but you were nowhere to be seen. His heart skipped a beat. Panic settled in his chest.

He had barely noticed the rain outside as he rushed toward the door. He pushed through it, and as soon as he stepped outside, the cold rain slapped him in the face. His hair quickly became plastered to his forehead, his clothes drenched from head to toe, but he didn’t care.

He only cared about one thing: you.

He ran through the rain, not caring that he was getting soaked. The sound of the rain pounding against the ground was deafening as he searched for you. It was only when he saw you walking down the street, hunched over, that his feet finally stopped.

“Yn!” he shouted, his voice barely audible over the storm.

You turned around, your face a mixture of exhaustion and frustration. “What do you want, Heeseung?” Your voice was quiet, as though the rain had drowned it out.

Heeseung rushed toward you, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Please… wait up.”

He came to a stop in front of you, rain running down his face, dripping off his chin. His usual confident demeanor was gone, replaced with an air of desperation.

“Let’s talk. Please,” he said, trying to catch his breath. He reached out, but you took a step back, not wanting to be too close to him. The air between you both was thick with tension.

You were silent for a long moment, not knowing what to say, still upset by everything that had happened. The last time you’d been in the rain, things had ended in heartbreak. You couldn’t shake the feeling of déjà vu. This moment—this scene—felt all too familiar, like you were caught in a loop, trapped in the past.

Heeseung, noticing the hesitation, took a step forward, his voice softer this time. “I know I made mistakes, Yn. And I’m sorry for that. But you have to admit, you messed up too.”

His words were like a punch to the gut. You narrowed your eyes, frustration bubbling up again. “What are you talking about?”

Heeseung swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving yours. “I wasn’t perfect. I know that. But you shut me out. You shut us out, and I couldn’t reach you. You kept comparing me to him,” he said, voice cracking slightly, his vulnerability showing. “I’m not him, Yn. I’m not gonna be perfect, but I want to try. I’m not just some guy you go back to when everything falls apart.”

The rain pelted down around you, the water now splashing up on your shoes, but you barely noticed. The words echoed in your mind—comparisons to Sunghoon. It felt like you were trapped in a loop again, back at the starting line. It reminded you of how Sunghoon had said something so similar, so long ago.

“I wasn’t trying to compare you to him, but I don’t know how else to feel,” you said, frustration building in your chest. “You can’t expect me to just forget everything that’s happened. It’s not that simple, Heeseung.”

He took another step forward, his expression pleading. “I know it’s not simple. But I want you to give me a chance. I’m not asking for everything right now. I just want to prove that I can be what you need.”

You stood there, soaking in the rain, your heart beating fast. The same feelings from before—the ones you thought you’d buried—came rushing back. It was impossible to forget the past, impossible to ignore everything that had happened with Sunghoon, but here Heeseung was, standing in front of you, asking for another chance.

For a moment, all you could hear was the pounding rain, the noise around you blending with the chaos inside your head. The déjà vu feeling only intensified. It felt like the storm, both outside and within you, would never stop.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

Heeseung’s face softened, the rain dripping down his face like the words he was about to say. “I understand. I don’t know what to do either, but I want to try. I want to try with you, Yn. You’re not just some memory for me to hold onto. You’re someone I care about.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. He was standing in front of you, so raw, so honest. You didn’t want to let him in, but a part of you—despite everything—wanted to.

The tension hung in the air, but it wasn’t the same as before. It wasn’t just heartbreak and confusion. This time, it felt like you were standing at a crossroads.

“I’m not asking for you to trust me right away, but please—don’t shut me out completely. Let me prove that I’m not him. Let me be something for you,” Heeseung said, his voice thick with sincerity.

You looked at him, drenched in the rain, his eyes full of sincerity. The same feelings you had for him were still there, deep down. You could feel it in your chest, a warmth that flickered despite everything. It was still there.

And maybe, just maybe, Heeseung was worth taking a chance on.

The rain poured heavily around you both, the cold water splashing at your feet as Heeseung took another step closer. His face, drenched from the downpour, reflected the sincerity in his eyes. His usual confident demeanor was gone, replaced by something softer, something more vulnerable. The sound of the rain almost drowned out the silence between you, but his words cut through it like a sharp knife.

“I know I made mistakes, Yn,” he said quietly, his voice full of regret. “But you have to admit, you messed up too. I wasn’t perfect, but neither were you.”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening with frustration. “What are you talking about?” you muttered, eyes narrowing as you tried to process his words.

“I’m not trying to blame you for everything,” Heeseung continued, his tone softer this time. “But every time we try to move forward, it feels like we’re stuck in the past. You keep comparing me to him. Sunghoon. And I can’t keep carrying that weight. I’m not him, Yn. I’m not going to be him.”

You stood still, the rain drenching your hair and clothes, but you barely noticed. The comparisons to Sunghoon were still so fresh in your mind. “You think I’m comparing you to him?” you snapped, your voice trembling. “You don’t get it. It’s not about comparisons. It’s about trust and not being hurt again.”

Heeseung took another step closer, now standing just inches away from you. His expression softened as he took in your words, but there was a certain desperation in his eyes—something that mirrored your own fear. “I know it’s hard. I know I hurt you. But please, don’t give up on me. I want to try, Yn. Please…”

You swallowed again, caught in the intensity of his gaze. Your heart raced, conflicting emotions flooding your chest. But what he said next, the words that came from his lips, made everything feel like it was happening in slow motion.

“Please, baby,” Heeseung said, his voice barely above a whisper, but the way it rolled off his tongue made your heart skip a beat.

The words hit you like a wave, crashing over your senses. “Baby?” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly as the heat rushed to your face. He had never called you that before. The sudden term of endearment made your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected. The warmth spread across your skin, and you flushed deeply, unsure of how to react.

Heeseung saw your reaction immediately, the slight pink tint in your cheeks not going unnoticed. His eyes softened even more, and he stepped closer, taking your hand gently in his. “I’ve never said that before, I know. But I just… I want you to know how much I care about you.”

You looked down at your hand in his, your pulse pounding in your ears. The rain continued to pour, but it almost felt like the world had slowed down, like nothing mattered except the two of you standing there in the storm.

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The words were caught in your throat. You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t that simple, that you couldn’t just erase everything that had happened, but when you looked into his eyes, something shifted inside you.

Heeseung squeezed your hand gently. “Please, just give me a chance,” he repeated, his voice now a low murmur. “I’ll prove to you I’m not him. I’ll show you I’m not like Sunghoon. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

The sincerity in his words, the desperation mixed with hope, made something in you stir. You couldn’t deny the pull you still felt for him, the feelings that had never fully gone away.

But there was still doubt, still fear of repeating the past.

“I don’t want to hurt anymore, Heeseung,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rain. “I don’t want to keep going through this.”

“I know,” he replied quietly, his hand still holding yours. “And I don’t want to hurt you either. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes to show you that I’m different. Just don’t walk away from me.”

His eyes searched yours, his face full of concern and sincerity. You could see how much he meant it—how much he wanted you in his life. The vulnerability he was showing, the way he was pleading with you, felt different than anything you had experienced before.

And for the first time in a long while, you let go of the fear. You let go of the comparisons and the past, and allowed yourself to feel something new, something that wasn’t about the pain of the past.

You didn’t know if you were ready, but you could feel the connection between you both again. Maybe, just maybe, you could let him in again.

You stepped forward, closing the distance between you both, and Heeseung’s eyes softened as he took a step closer too. You didn’t need to say anything more. The rain continued to fall around you, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. You felt something shift. Something real.

“Okay,” you whispered softly, looking into his eyes, and in that moment, you knew you were willing to give him a chance.

Heeseung smiled, the tension leaving his body, and without another word, he reached up to brush a wet strand of hair out of your face. His thumb gently caressed your cheek, and as the rain fell around you both, he leaned in just slightly.

“I promise I won’t mess this up,” he murmured, and you knew—this time, it might be different.

And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to believe it.

Heeseung’s hand remained gently on your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin as his gaze held yours. The rain still poured around you, but there was an undeniable warmth between the two of you that seemed to make the cold and wetness irrelevant. He smiled softly, the tension in his face fading as he spoke.

“I’ll have more time now,” he said quietly, almost as if he was reassuring himself as much as you. “The comeback’s almost done, and I won’t let work get in the way of us again. I know I’ve been busy, but I want to make up for that. I’ll be here.”

His words settled over you, and you could hear the sincerity in his voice. It wasn’t the first time he had promised something like this, but something about the way he said it now, in the midst of everything, made you feel like he was finally understanding what mattered. He was ready to prioritize you, and that meant more than any past apology or promise.

You smiled faintly, your heart fluttering in your chest. You couldn’t help but feel a little giddy, especially when you remembered the way he looked on stage earlier, under the lights, his presence commanding the room. It was hard not to notice how incredible he looked, how he seemed to own the stage in a way that left you breathless.

“You looked really good on stage,” you admitted, your voice a little softer than usual. The words left you before you could stop them, and as soon as you said them, your face warmed slightly. You weren’t sure why, but admitting it to him felt oddly vulnerable, like you were letting him in even more.

Heeseung’s smile widened, and you could see the gratitude in his eyes. “Really?” he asked, his voice teasing now, but there was a hint of pride behind it. “You think I looked good? I’ve been practicing for days. Guess it paid off.”

You nodded, unable to hide the admiration you felt. “You were amazing. The whole performance was. You definitely killed it.”

Heeseung chuckled softly, leaning in slightly closer, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to gauge your reaction. “You know, I’ve been waiting to hear that from you,” he admitted, his voice lower now, a playful edge to it. “It means a lot to me. Thanks for saying it.”

You shrugged, feeling a little shy under his gaze, but also warm inside. “You earned it.”

There was a pause between you both as the rain continued to fall, the sound of it pattering against the pavement filling the space. Heeseung’s hand slipped from your cheek, his fingers brushing down to gently hold your hand again.

“I’m glad you were here to see it,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I know I’ve messed up in the past, but I want to make sure I don’t mess up with you again.”

You squeezed his hand in return, feeling the weight of his words. You didn’t know what the future held, but in this moment, you felt hopeful, something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in a while.

“I know you won’t,” you whispered, the words carrying more meaning than you had intended. There was still a long way to go, but you weren’t as scared anymore. Maybe things were different this time. Maybe they could work.

The rain kept falling, but somehow, it felt like the storm between you both had passed.

As the days went on, things between you and Heeseung slowly began to improve. The weight of the past still lingered, but both of you were trying, in your own ways, to move forward. It wasn’t perfect — there were still moments when he got caught up in his schedule, and moments when you felt like the old hurt resurfaced — but for the most part, you found yourselves learning how to navigate this new chapter together.

One evening, you found yourself walking alongside him again, the air crisp with the promise of autumn. The streets were quieter than usual, the faint buzz of city lights shimmering in the distance. As you strolled side by side, there was a comfortable silence between you, the kind that didn’t feel awkward but instead felt like you were both in sync again.

Heeseung suddenly pulled out a pack of gum from his pocket, the crinkling sound of the wrapper catching your attention. You glanced over, noticing the familiar mint-green packaging. It was the same brand that Sunghoon used to carry everywhere. The same one he’d offer you whenever you’d go on long drives or have late-night practices together.

The thought hit you like a wave, and you had to swallow the sudden rush of memories that threatened to bubble up. It wasn’t that you missed Sunghoon — not anymore — but those small, familiar things still had a way of creeping back into your mind.

You could feel Heeseung’s eyes on you, waiting for your reaction as he popped a piece of gum into his mouth. You wanted to say something, ask if he’d noticed the connection too, but you bit your tongue. This was a new beginning, and you didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. It was just a pack of gum. He didn’t need to know that it reminded you of someone else.

You pushed the thought away and smiled at him instead. “You always have gum on you.”

Heeseung chuckled, taking another piece for himself. “It’s a habit. I’ve got to keep my breath fresh for when I’m talking to you.”

Your cheeks flushed slightly at his words, but you decided not to comment. It felt nice to have these little moments with him. No grand gestures, no dramatic confessions. Just simple, quiet moments where you could exist together without the weight of expectations.

The walk continued, with the occasional teasing and gentle nudges, but there were still moments of silence too — and in those moments, it was clear that you both knew the other was thinking. Thinking about how things were still a little fragile, a little uncertain, but also undeniably real.

And yes, there were moments when things didn’t go as smoothly as you both had hoped. You still had your disagreements. Maybe he didn’t always understand your perspective, or maybe you misunderstood his actions. Maybe there were times when he was too busy, and you were too sensitive. You had your fights, even if they were small, over things that felt petty in the end. But, in some strange way, it was part of how your relationship worked.

You didn’t need to be perfect. You didn’t need to fix everything at once. You both had flaws, but what mattered was that you were learning to see those flaws as part of the whole person, not something that needed to be fixed.

In those arguments, you realized that you didn’t want everything to be easy. You didn’t want a relationship without challenges. After all, it was those challenges that made the good moments feel even better. Every time you fought and then made up, it felt like you were both growing in ways that mattered, in ways that were important to the both of you.

Eventually, the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, and you found yourselves sitting on a bench near a quiet park, just enjoying each other’s company. The air was cool, but it didn’t matter. You were with him, and that was all that mattered right now.

Heeseung leaned back, looking up at the sky as he let out a deep breath. “I’m really glad we’re doing this,” he said, voice softer than usual.

You looked at him, feeling a soft warmth spread through your chest. “Me too,” you admitted, your hand brushing against his. You didn’t need to say more. Words weren’t necessary at that moment.

In a way, it felt like things were coming together, piece by piece. There was still so much to figure out, but for the first time in a long while, you felt hopeful about what was to come.

“Let’s just keep going,” you said, voice steady. “We’ll figure it out as we go.”

Heeseung smiled, a quiet, sincere smile that made your heart flutter. “Yeah. We will.”

And just like that, you both sat there, hands intertwined, watching as the night sky wrapped around you.

@sheseung

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter twenty-one: The Distance Between Us

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

previous | 21 | next

Series Masterlist

The night felt different after the incident with the panther mask. The sharp edges of tension that had once crackled between you and In-ho now simmered quietly beneath the surface, but something was shifting. You could feel it—he wasn’t pulling away in the way he had before, but there was something else. Something unspoken. He had changed after that moment of confrontation. It wasn’t just about the panther anymore, it was about you—and about him.

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the room heavy with silence. In-ho had barely spoken since the two of you returned to the suite. The brief moments of calm, of connection that had once sparked between you, had started to feel distant, like they belonged to someone else.

You didn’t know when it had happened—when the distance had crept in—but now it felt like something had shifted irrevocably. The softness in his gaze, the way he’d brushed your cheek earlier, the almost unguarded way he held you as the panther’s presence had loomed—those moments had been real, but they felt like a dream you couldn’t quite grasp. You had almost convinced yourself that he was beginning to let go, that maybe, just maybe, he was opening up to the idea of letting you in.

But tonight, it felt like he was closing off again.

You turned toward his side of the bed, only to find it empty. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of his movements on the other side of the suite. You didn’t need to look to know he wasn’t asleep. You could feel it—his restless energy had filled the room, and you could sense the way he was holding something back.

You sat up, pulling the blanket off your shoulders as you slipped out of bed and padded across the room. The lights were dim, casting soft shadows across the room, but even in the near-darkness, you could see the tension in his shoulders as he stood by the window, staring out into the night.

“In-ho?” you asked quietly, your voice barely a whisper in the stillness of the room.

He didn’t answer right away. The seconds ticked by in silence as you stepped closer, the weight of the moment settling heavily between you.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice strained, distant. “Go back to sleep.”

You stopped just short of him, your gaze tracing the lines of his back. Something in his tone made your chest tighten, a small flare of concern igniting in you. You couldn’t ignore it anymore. There was something more to this, something you weren’t seeing.

“You’re not fine,” you said softly, your voice gentle but firm. “In-ho, you’ve been… distant. Ever since that night. I don’t know what’s going on, but I can feel it. What’s happening?”

He didn’t respond right away, his hands gripping the windowsill as though he were trying to hold onto something—anything. The silence between you felt like it stretched for miles.

Finally, he turned, his gaze meeting yours for the first time since you’d entered the room. His eyes were darker than usual, almost pained. “You don’t understand,” he said, the words heavy, as if they were forced out of him.

You frowned, stepping closer, your heart pounding. “What don’t I understand? In-ho, please… talk to me. You’re shutting me out, and I don’t know why.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head slightly as he ran a hand through his hair. “You can’t know what it’s like,” he murmured, his voice cracking ever so slightly. “You don’t know what it’s like to lose everything. To lose her… to lose a part of yourself in the process.”

Your breath caught, the air around you suddenly feeling thick with the weight of his confession. You knew about his wife and the child they had lost, the death that still haunted him. But hearing him say it, so raw, made something tighten deep inside you.

“I do know, In-ho,” you said quietly, your voice soft but insistent. “I know you’re still hurting. But I’m not asking you to forget her, or to replace her. I’m here. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

He closed his eyes, and for a moment, you thought he might let you in. That brief flicker of vulnerability you’d seen before was there again, but it quickly faded behind a wall of coldness.

“You don’t get it,” he said, his voice lower now, tinged with something that felt almost like shame. “I can’t… I can’t love you like this. I’m not whole. I’m not ready. I don’t know if I’ll ever be. And I’m afraid that if I let myself… if I let you get too close, I’ll lose you the same way I lost her. And I can’t… I can’t go through that again.”

His words cut through you, each one heavier than the last. The air in the room felt suffocating, and you took a step back, as though trying to process the weight of what he’d said. You could feel the struggle inside him—this deep, internal war that kept him locked in the past, unable to move forward.

“In-ho,” you whispered, your voice shaking just a little, “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going anywhere. I want to be with you. I am with you. But I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”

He stood there, silent, his back to you once again as he tried to mask the turmoil behind the mask of indifference.

“I can’t do this right now,” he said abruptly, his voice hardening again, like a shield descending between you. “I need space. I… I have to go. There’s something I need to take care of.”

Before you could protest, before you could try to convince him that you understood, he moved quickly, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair and heading toward the door. You opened your mouth to call out to him, but the words got stuck in your throat. There was nothing more you could say.

He paused at the door, his hand on the handle, but he didn’t turn around. “I’ll be back later,” he said in a voice that held no trace of the warmth it had once had. “I just… I need to clear my head.”

And with that, he was gone.

The door clicked shut behind him with a quiet finality that left you standing alone in the middle of the room. The silence felt oppressive now, the air thick with the weight of what had just transpired. You could still feel the echo of his words hanging in the air, the finality in his tone.

You didn’t know when he would come back. Or if he would come back with the same look in his eyes.

But you knew one thing: In-ho was still fighting. Fighting against what he felt, fighting against what he needed, and fighting against you. And right now, there was nothing you could do but wait.

———————

Chapter twenty-one!! Woops they’re back to being distanced… I couldn’t let them be happy this easily lol. As always lemme know what you think! Thank you!

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[sturniololuvz]

hii could you pls write abt the triplets and their sister living in boston and justin comes to visit and they basically leave out their sister and then just much angst and then fluff please?

okayy!

“Forgotten in Boston”

Sturniolos x sister

Y/N had always known that the bond between the triplets and Justin was different. He was their older brother, someone they looked up to, someone they hadn’t seen as often since he moved away. So when he came back to Boston for a visit, she knew they’d want to spend as much time with him as possible.

She just didn’t expect to be left out completely.

It started small—little things like the boys making plans without asking if she wanted to come. At first, she brushed it off, thinking maybe it was unintentional.

But then, it became obvious.

“Yo, let’s hit the North End for dinner,” Justin had said earlier that day.

Y/N, sitting on the couch, perked up. “Ooh, can I come?”

Chris barely glanced at her as he grabbed his jacket. “It’s kinda like… a brother thing, you know?”

Her stomach dropped. “Oh.”

“Yeah, but we’ll be back soon,” Matt added quickly, ruffling her hair as he walked by.

Nick tossed her the remote. “You can pick a movie for when we get back.”

And just like that, they were gone.

Y/N sat there, gripping the remote, her chest tight.

It happened again the next day. And the next.

Every time she tried to join in, it was always the same excuse. “Brother time.”

As if she wasn’t their sibling too.

By the fourth day, she’d had enough.

They had just come back from some stupid arcade, all laughing about inside jokes she wasn’t part of. Justin was throwing an arm around Matt’s shoulders, Nick was talking about some game he won, and Chris— the one who always made sure she was included—was just as wrapped up in it as the rest.

She stood up from the couch, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. “I’m going to bed.”

Chris blinked. “It’s, like, seven?”

“Yeah, well, there’s not much else for me to do alone,” she snapped.

The room went silent.

Nick frowned. “What?”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “You guys have completely ignored me this entire week. Every time I try to spend time with you, I get shut out because I’m not part of your ‘brother time.’ Do you even realize how shitty that feels?”

Matt opened his mouth, but she cut him off.

“No, actually, don’t answer that. Because I already know—you don’t realize, because you haven’t even noticed I’ve been sitting here alone every single day.” Her voice cracked, and she hated it.

Chris looked like she had just punched him in the gut. “Y/N…”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Forget it. Just enjoy your time with Justin.”

And with that, she walked to her room, slamming the door behind her.

It was maybe an hour later when she heard the soft knock.

“Y/N?”

She stayed silent, hugging her pillow.

Another knock. “Can we come in?”

More than one voice. She sighed, wiping her eyes before mumbling, “Whatever.”

The door creaked open, and the triplets walked in, looking… guilty.

Chris sat on the edge of her bed first. “We’re dicks.”

Nick sighed. “Huge dicks.”

Matt nodded. “Like, the biggest dicks.”

Y/N huffed out a small laugh, even though she was still upset. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Chris ran a hand through his hair, looking down. “I didn’t even realize we were leaving you out. I swear it wasn’t on purpose.”

Nick leaned against her desk. “We just got caught up in seeing Justin again, and—fuck, that’s not even an excuse. We just… we messed up.”

Matt sat next to her, nudging her shoulder. “We’re really sorry, Y/N/N. We feel like shit.”

She stayed quiet for a moment, picking at a loose thread on her blanket. “It really sucked,” she admitted softly.

Chris exhaled. “I know.”

Nick rubbed the back of his neck. “Can we make it up to you?”

She raised a brow. “How?”

Matt grinned. “You get to pick what we do tomorrow. Anything. No complaints, no excuses.”

Chris nudged her. “Even if it’s something super girly and we look stupid.”

Y/N sniffled, but a small smile crept onto her face. “Even if I make you guys get pedicures with me?”

Nick groaned. “God, please, anything but that.”

Chris laughed. “Nope, no complaints! That’s the deal.”

Matt sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if they put rhinestones on my toes, I’m blaming you.”

Y/N let out a real laugh this time, and the tightness in her chest started to ease.

Chris wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “We love you, you know that, right?”

She leaned into him, finally feeling like their sister again. “Yeah,” she murmured. “I love you guys too.”

[lemonlover1110]

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 7] First Ultrasound

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Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

On what you’re assuming is the start of the third month of your pregnancy, you finally manage to make an appointment for your first ultrasound. You debate if you want to tell Toji or not. Would he want to come? You’re not too sure if you’re being honest. He’s told you that he wants to be the best possible father for your child, but you don’t trust him. Given his track record, you can’t exactly trust him.

“I’m just here to drop off your money.” Toji can easily transfer money through the bank monthly, but he chooses to give it to you. Every two weeks he’s at your door with your money. You agreed to quit your second job and take his money; you still have your second job, but the nights that you know he’s coming, you take off. Toji invites himself in even if he’s just handing you an envelope. He never comes just to give you that.

“How’s work?” You ask, closing the door when he enters your apartment. You find it ironic that you talk more now than when you were married. He actually engages in conversation now, and he tries to talk to you as well, asking how you’re doing.

“Exhausting.” He answers. You can tell that he’s been working more lately, or at the very least he’s not getting proper sleep. There’s visible bags under his eyes, and he’s slowly letting himself go, at least he doesn’t give the proper care since he has a bit of a stubble; he’s also due for a haircut. “How about you? How are you holding up?”

“I’m doing okay… I’ve been dealing with a bit of morning sickness but nothing crazy.” You answer. You leave out any other of your symptoms. How your breasts are sore, you’re extremely tired (which can also be alluded back to your second job), how you’ve suddenly been having the weirdest cravings. Sure, you’re talking, but you don’t want him to know more than necessary. You try to change the topic since you don’t like having the spotlight on you, “How’s Megumi doing?”

“He’s doing fine… He has a baseball game next Thursday, if you want to come.” He informs you and you take a note of it. You’ll try to go since you have a soft spot for Megumi, but you’re not certain that you’ll make it. 

“I’ll try. Hope I’m doing better then.” You respond. He slowly nods in response, and he tries to think of something to talk about, but nothing comes to mind so he begins to walk to the door. He won’t try to waste both of your time. Before his hand wraps around the doorknob, you speak up,

“Toji…” He completely stops. Not a single breath comes from him until you speak again, “I know that you’re busy so, I’m just inviting you to be courteous… I have my first ultrasound tomorrow, if you want to join me.”

“What time?” He asks, and you tell him. At noon. He nods, and tells you, “I’ll come pick you up.”

He stands still for a moment, wondering what to do next. Wondering if you’re going to do something else. You stand in completely awkward silence for a minute before Toji realizes that nothing else will happen, so he walks out. He doesn’t say goodbye, although you don’t mind it because he never does.

Toji hasn’t been a man that’s usually punctual, so you’re surprised when he’s early. You might’ve told him that the appointment was earlier than it actually is so you wouldn’t be late, but there’s not much you can do when he’s right in front of you, thirty minutes before your appointment. The place isn’t even a twenty minute drive.

“Hi.” You awkwardly smile at him. You notice how he’s finally shaved the stubble, and you’re curious if he did so last night or this morning. “So… I might’ve– The appointment was pushed back to twelve thirty.”

“Oh– Okay.” He answers. You almost tell him the truth, but it might incite an argument so it’s best if you ignore it and tell a little white lie. He won’t question much, he never does, so you’re safe. “Did you eat something already? Do you want to grab something to eat?”

“I don’t have much of an appetite.” You respond, and he nods his head. He isn’t going to argue with you that you should eat something regardless, you’re pregnant and you have to keep yourself healthy for the baby– He isn’t your father nor your husband, you’re old enough to make your own decisions. And while Toji wishes he could say he was worried about this pregnancy, he simply isn’t. As fucked up it is to even think about it, he’s more worried about you than the child you carry.

“What do you want to do then? Do you just want to head out and wait?” He asks, and you nod your head in response, if you get lucky, your appointment will start earlier. You disappear out of his sight for a moment to grab your purse, but you’re back quickly. You exit the apartment and you begin to walk to his car. 

The car ride is silent, you don’t have much to talk about. You don’t sense him being as excited… Or excited at all about this so you’re quiet. You don’t pay him any mind. You’re over the moon at the thought of looking at your baby for the first time. You’re in disbelief that you’re about to become a mother. Finally.

You get to the place and check in. Waiting feels interminable as you sit next to Toji. He simply looks around, while you begin to play a game on your phone. Toji finds himself bored, and since he doesn’t have anything interesting to do, he chooses to try and talk to you. He clears his throat, and speaks up, “So how far along are you anyway?”

“Hm… I think, maybe three months along? I do have a bit of a bump.” You share, and Toji’s brows raise, he looks over at you, but your shirt is baggy which doesn’t let him really figure anything out. His eyes keep staring, and he finds himself frustrated at the fact he doesn’t know. If you lived with him he’d see your body better, and he’d notice every small change. At least that’s what he thinks. 

Your name is called and you stand up, following the woman to the ultrasound room. Toji follows behind, walking much slower, trying to see if he does notice a bit of a bump. The previous night you were wearing a tank top– He didn’t notice anything then. He isn’t all too observant anyway so maybe he missed it.

Toji watches as you lay down, and you begin to talk to the technician. He doesn’t pay much attention to what’s going on between you two. Until you finally lift up your shirt, and he does see a bit of a bump. It’s nothing that’s really noticeable but it’s there when you lift up your shirt, it’s definitely something he would’ve noticed if you lived together. 

You squeal as the cold gel is poured on your abdomen, and the transducer is then pressed on your skin. Your eyes then fall on the monitor, and an immediate smile comes to your lips. A little kidney bean. Your eyes well up with tears as the technician points out their little head.

“It’s just one baby, right?” Toji asks, and the technician assures him that it’s just one baby. It makes him breathe a sigh of relief. He notices you stick out your bottom lip, and he rolls his eyes. You seriously didn’t want twins, did you?

You look over at Toji, trying to see if there’s a bit of excitement behind his eyes when he looks at the ultrasound, and while it’s not clearly written on his face, you see a spark in his eyes as he looks at the monitor. He perks up when he hears the sound of the baby’s heartbeats. It’s in that moment that Toji realizes just how big this is–

He’s a father, he knows the birth of a baby is a big deal. Toji would give up his life for Megumi. But your pregnancy… The beginning of it didn’t excite him the way that his first wife’s did. Maybe it’s because he was set on not being a father again, or maybe it’s because you’re separated. Perhaps it’s because even though he wanted to use your pregnancy as a means for you to stay, you still left. He’s just focused on you and your relationship, not the fact that he’s actually becoming a father again. Doing it all over again.

He isn’t sure if he’s ready to do it all over again; but he feels the excitement slowly grow by looking at his baby and listening to their heartbeat. It’s nothing too crazy though.

When the technician finishes up, you’re handed a napkin to wipe off the gel. You do so, and you’re told to wait for the doctor. You’re smiling foolishly, thinking that you’re becoming a mother even though you had given up on that dream a while ago. Given that dream up for the man that’s waiting next to you.

“You seem really excited.” Toji comments when you’re left alone. He watches your hand go to your lower abdomen as you look up at him.

“I am. I can’t wait to meet my baby.” You answer. Toji chuckles, your excitement radiating and infectious. “Do you want a baby boy or a girl?”

“Hmm… A baby boy since I already know how to deal with boys. I have no idea how I’d raise a girl.” He responds. “How about you? Do you want a girl or a boy?”

“I don’t have a preference, I just want a healthy baby. Boy or girl.” You reply, and Toji wonders if that’s how he should’ve responded. Would that have gotten him positive points with you? Did his response fuck everything up a little more?

The doctor walks in, and she tells you what you want to hear. The baby is healthy, and growing the way they should be. You’re around fourteen weeks along– Which means you’ll be due around December, and that you’re further along than what you assumed. Your baby wasn’t conceived the night that you told Toji you’d be leaving him.

You get your ultrasound pictures, and Toji takes two, even though he tries to act like he isn’t excited.

[glamourscat]

¿Besos? | Meguru Bachira x fem!manager reader

synopsis: the manager of the FC Barcha team, helps Bachira practice his Spanish. And maybe it turns into something more

cw: explicit towards the end, Bachira's bad spanish lmao

“¿H—hola, cómo estás tú? Mi amigo mejor, pero no habla mucho bien.”

Your head turns back, eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the words you just heard. What the hell? As you enter the lounge room of the FC Barcha team you are met with the sight of Bachira, his head down and the back of his hair up thanks to a small hair clip in the shape of a bee. His tongue pokes out from his lips in concentration as he marks and scribbles on his notebook.

“Bachira?” you call gently as you approach him.

The boy’s head whips around to meet your eyes, his face lighting up immediately as he sees you.

“Y/N-chan!” he exclaims, his tone overly excited as always. Before you know it, he has pounced on you for a bear hug, his legs almost wrapping around you—almost, if it weren’t for the fact that the unexpected hug almost made you fall backward—almost though.

“¡Ay, Dios mío!, Bachira?!” you say with a small gasped chuckle as he had almost knocked the breath out of you.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, giggling quietly, his head on your shoulder tilted to stare at you with those bright yellow eyes of his. His cheeks are slightly red as he squeezes you a bit in the hug.

“Are you practicing your Spanish? I can help if you want,” you murmur, gently caressing his hair, making him almost purr at your touch.

“Sí, por favor,” he murmurs, giving you his deadly puppy eyes.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Well, that was a mistake. It’s been three hours and you two have moved from the lounge room to your dorm room. Bless his heart, but Bachira has the memory of a goldfish. Just when you think he understands a concept, he shows you that he, in fact, does not. It’s been hours of trying to teach him basic Spanish grammar, and he’s been moving, fidgeting and whining like crazy. It’s like talking to a toddler.

“If you don’t want to learn, we can stop, especially if you’re tired—”

“Noo… I want to,” he pouts, kicking his feet in the air in annoyance as he lays on your bed with you.

“You’re doing everything but that, Bachira. It’s not working. It’s okay to take a break—” you start, but he interrupts you again.

“No,” he whines, hiding his face in your legs.

“Meguru…” you say, side eyeing him, his name coming out slightly harsher than intended.

“Don’t be mad at me,” he whispers, turning to face you but still resting his head on your lap.

You sigh, rubbing your eyes for a moment. “I’m not mad… I’m just tired. We’ve been doing this for hours.”

Bachira’s eyes soften as he looks up at you, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a rare moment of seriousness. “I’m sorry, Y/N-chan. I just… I want to get better at this but it’s so difficult” he sighs, pouting a bit in contemplation.

“But, I want to keep trying. Can we do that little game you suggested earlier? The one where I ask you questions in Japanese and you in Spanish back to me and whoever gets the answer wrong, needs to take something off? Pretty please” he says, smiling a bit.

“Really? Now you wanna do that?” Your voice amused as you nudge him.

His soft giggles filled the room as he kissed your thighs gently. “Pretty please?” He repeats, stretching the last syllables.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

You don’t know how you always end up in these situations. Bachira has a way of expressing himself through his actions that make you a bit weak in the knees. And each damned time you two go from doing something productive to this… Like now. Where you got your 5th question wrong. Not that he was doing much better, left in only boxers and one sock. But it was your turn now, and since you got a question wrong this round, your bra came off.

Not surprised though, when his hands immediately found your breasts. And your lips found his. Soon it wasn’t really about the questions anymore, as the focus shifted on the rather good makeout session you two were having.

“Wasn’t part of the plan..” you moaned between kisses

“Hmm, maybe. I am not opposed to it though” he moaned back as his hips grind against yours, making you feel his erection. “Mami, hazme sentir bien por favor.” he whispers, in the most filthy whiny tone he could master.

Your eyes go wide at the words he spoke in Spanish, mouth slightly agape, staring at him dumbfounded.

Maybe, after all, the afternoon had not been wasted as you initially thought.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Mami, hazme sentir bien por favor= mummy, please make me feel good

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[uluvjay]

The easy days- J. Slafkovsky

Juraj Slafkovsky x fem! Reader

In which you bask in Juraj’s rare off day

Warnings?: Fluff, kissing, talks of burning out and exhaustion but no more I can think of, i apologize for any errors!

You woke up to the feeling of soft kisses being scattered along your cotton covered shoulder, strands of dark brunette hair tickling your jaw.

“Morning” you smiled down at the large boy tucked under your arm.

Juraj perked his head up at the sound of your soft voice, a bright smile overtaking the boys face as he leaned up to place a small peck to your lips.

“Good Morning.” He breathed resting his chin on your chest.

“What are the plans for today?” You question softly, hands working into his soft locks.

His eyes fluttered shut for a moment at the relaxing sensation of your nails lightly scratching his scalp.

“Sleep, coffee, couch, movies, food.” He answered after a moment.

“Sounds good to me.” You giggled.

The habs finally had an off day after two back to back games with a practice and another game earlier in the week and you knew your boyfriend needed a day of nothing but rest.

He’d been working his ass off and while it’s been paying off and he’s doing amazing things he still needs a day of relaxation in order to keep his young body from burning out.

Looking over at the digital clock on your nightstand you laughed realizing it was seven in the morning but you couldn’t blame Juraj for being up this early, the jet lag got ahold of him as soon as he laid in the bed last night.

“What time do you want to get back up?” You asked softly.

“Whenever we feel like it.” He chuckled softly and you nodded in agreement before placing a kiss to his head and snuggling into your pillow while Juraj resumed his position under your arm allowing himself to be the little spoon for once.

-

When you two do finally emerge from the comfort and warmth of your bed it’s just passing ten in the morning.

You both share a quick shower before getting dressed and heading to your favorite coffee shop. Snow had fallen overnight leaving a soft blanket on the streets of Montreal.

You two make small talk about his trip and how he enjoyed his multi point roadtrip, he blushed as your praised his achievements telling you it wasn’t a big deal but deep down you knew he was enjoying the praise.

Juraj parked in front of the coffee shop before making his way around to your door and opening it for you.

“Thank you kind sir.” You laughed as you step out.

“It’s no problem, I always look out for the clumsy.” He smirked as you let out a scoff and smacked his shoulder.

“I am not clumsy!”

“Coles ring camera says differently.” He giggled and you couldn’t argue with that one.

A few weeks ago everyone had gathered at Cole’s new house for dinner and the boy had told everyone to watch the patch of ice on his walkway but somehow even after trying to avoid it, you still slipped.

He took your hand as he lead you towards the door, opening it for you he followed after you stepping into the smell of fresh coffee and baked sweets.

“Do you want your usual?” He asked as you two stepped into the small line.

“Yes please.” You smiled up at him.

He gave you a soft nod before dipping down and capturing your lips in a short kiss, Juraj wasn’t big on pda but after being away for a week he missed you and he didn’t really care who saw him showing his favorite person a bit of love.

Once you two reached the counter the barista smiled brightly as she recognized you two instantly.

“Hi guys! Do you want your usual today?”

“Yes please.” Juraj smiled politely.

“Okay! That’ll be $14.07, you can swipe whenever you’re ready.” She smiled and you watched as Juraj paid knowing there was absolutely no point in trying to make him let you.

You slid two bills into the tip jar before making your way to the small waiting area, Juraj wrapped a strong arm around your shoulder as he pulled you close to his side.

“We need to finish that movie we started before you left for your road trip.” You reminded him.

“Oh yeah, we have to find some others to watch too because I plan on being on that couch for the rest of the day.” He laughed.

“Deal, what about that new horror one you wanted to see?” You asked.

“Sounds good to me.” He smiled softly, his attention pulled away from you as the barista called out your names and placed the cups on the counter.

“Thank you!” You smiled at her as you both collected your drinks and headed back to the car.

-

For the next few hours you two were wrapped up in blankets while you rested on your large sectional, your back to Juraj’s chest while he rested against the soft cushions of the couch.

You had eaten things that Juraj should’ve been staying clear from due to his strict diet but he didn’t care in the moment, he was allowed a cheat day every now and then.

You’d ran through all the new movies you two had been desperate to watch, a horror, some comedy and others dramas.

After a nice filling dinner you were back in your spot against him but this time your head was rested against his chest while his fingers raked through your hair and his nails scratched along your back under your shirt.

“Today has been nice.” You spoke softly.

“It has, thank you for everything today.”

“You don’t have to thank me J, I love spending time with you.” You smiled up at him.

“I know but some people wouldn’t do this for their partner, you didn’t have to lay around with me all day and do nothing but you did. So thank you and I love you.” He smiled.

“I love you more baby.” You giggled as you pushed yourself up to press your lips against his.

It was soft and full of passion, showing him how much he actually did mean to you without having to try and explain it in words which you struggled with.

Pulling away he gave you one more peck on the lips before settling back and stroking your cheek with his large thumb.

He could see the sleep clouding your eyes, the way they kept drooping had his heart warming, despite it being barely seven he pulled you close and wrapped your favorite blanket around you.

“Go to sleep love, I’ll be here when you wake up.” He spoke as he began to stroke your hair.

“Okay.” You breathed as you snuggled into him.

You loved hockey and loved watching Juraj live out his dream with amazing teammates and an amazing organization but there was nothing better then days like this, the days where you could spend the entirety loving on him and allowing his body to get the rest he needed.

Nothing would ever top the easy days.

-

[pitchsidestories]

I loved you in secret II Niamh Charles x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1188

a/n: hi, this one contains hurt/comfort, it's all fictional as always and we hope you guys like it.

Loosing against Barcelona hurt a lot but what was even more painful to you was the heartbroken face of your girlfriend who was coming towards you, the rain pattered steadily on her slumped shoulders.

In the background you saw the Barca players celebrating their entry into the Champions League final.

Even though you knew that not a single word which existed in the human language could ease away the pain right now, you whispered her name: ”Niamh-“

The defender quickly stopped you from talking more by putting a finger to your lips before pressing her mouth on to yours, giving you a passionate kiss.

The move of the brunette caught you off guard because the relationship was supposed to be a secret and you could tell that your team has been watching the two of you.

For another moment Niamh leaned her forehead against yours before she apologized quietly: ”Sorry.”

“Sorry, for the kiss or the loss?”, you frowned at her.  

“Both.”, she admitted in an honest tone.

You wanted to press on for her to keep speaking, but it was Erin who cleared her throat, so your girlfriend and you turned around to face her.

The Scottish midfielder nodded into your coach direction who didn’t look the least amused, even a little disgusted:” Sorry to interrupt you girls. I thought you should know that Emma saw you two.

Much to your surprise Niamh’s reply was: ”Good.”

“Good?! You must be joking, Niamhy.”, Sjoeke scolded the defender, she herself seemed to have appear out of nowhere.

“Do I look like I’m joking?”, Niamh asked the red-haired woman in a tone which didn’t leave a doubt about her being serious.

The German forward quietly moved away from her.

“Come on, let’s go inside, love.”, you told your girlfriend.

“Please.”, she answered, tears in her eyes because the pain of loosing 2:0 against the reigning champions of Europe was still too fresh for her not to get highly emotional about everything which was thrown at her.

In the dressing room a concerned Millie came up to both of you:” Niamh, y/n?”

“Yes?”, you lifted your chin, to look properly into your captain’s worried face.

Sounding much more annoyed Niamh mumbled through gritted teeth: ”What?”  The sadness was still there but you could feel her getting angrier by each passing minute.

“You better get home quickly.”, Millie responded softly.

“Why?”, you raised an eyebrow at her.

“She’s pretty mad.”, Guro explained. Hearing the Norwegian say this, send a shiver down to your spine, you all knew all too well who your teammate meant with she, Emma who’s facial expression from earlier was engraved into your visual memory.

Your girlfriends voice brought you back from your thoughts. “About the kiss in the rain? Emma should be mad about the game instead, how we lost it in the second half!”

She tried to keep her voice steady but the anger seeped through the words.

Millie shook her head calmly: “We all lost that game tonight.”

You sighed, looking at the tall defender: “Yes, but Millie, she has no right to hate us just because Niamh and I love each other.”

A look of empathy crossed Millies face: “No, I absolutely agree. I know it‘s been bothering Niamh for a while now.”

“Yes, she‘s tired of the hate. Especially after Emmas statement on player-player-relationships.”, you continued.

Millie nodded in understanding. You were sure that everyone in the room knew that Niamhs anger came from an accumulation of disappointing games and questionable interviews of your coach.

“But we didn‘t lose because of this tonight.”, Millie reminded you.

Niamh let out a long sigh: “No, we didn‘t.”

“Niamh.” The older team captain tried to find the youngers eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Go home.”, Millies voice was soft, her eyes full of worry for the two of you. Still, you did not dare to refuse her order.

You started packing your bags silently, trying to leave the stadium as fast as possible.

“Bye, girls.”, Niamh said plainly, not looking at any. of your teammates.

Guro forced herself to smile: “Bye.”

“Goodbye.”, you said before following your girlfriend out.

Niamh was unusually quiet on your way home. As soon as the door closed behind you and you dropped your bags, she turned towards you.

“I‘m sorry, love.”

“You don‘t need to apologize, Niamh.”, you replied, carefully reaching out to take her hands into yours.

She shook her head, avoiding your eyes: “No, I didn‘t want to get you in trouble. I was just mad.”

Of course, she made the decision to kiss you in the heat of the moment, led by her emotions and it might have consequences for you too but you could not blame her.

“We all were. And rightfully so, I mean the first leg might have been the best game of the season…”

Your girlfriend let out a tired breath: “It‘s been a weird season.”

“You can really say that.”, you nodded in agreement.

Still in thought, Niamh continued: “I didn't say anything when she first called our relationship inappropriate… but it has been bothering me the whole time.”

“Me too to be honest. But I didn’t want it to affect your captaincy.”, you admitted.

“I should have said something.”

You carefully put your hand on her upper arm and tried to find her gaze: “And loose the armband? She'll leave at the end of the season and we're staying.”

“Now that Millie is back, she will get it anyway.”, your girlfriend sighed exasperated.

“Probably., you paused for a second before adding in a hopeful tone, but we can stop hiding now, right?”

“We should have stopped much earlier. We owe that to our teammates who taught us that it’s okay.”, she confessed quietly while placing her head on your lap.

“That’s true to Pernille and Magda..”, you began.

“Fran and Maren.”, Niamh mumbled while your fingers ran soothingly through her still slightly wet hair.

“Aswell as Jess and Ann-Katrin.”

“And there are young players looking up to us.”, the defender said earnestly.

“Right. I don’t want them to feel ashamed for whom they love.”, you whispered as you wished away the upcoming tears with your free hand.

“Come here.”, your girlfriend asked you to lay down beside her which you did.

With closed eyes Niamh kissed away your hot tears.

“I love you.”, you told her, smiling sadly.

“I love you too. On and off the pitch. No matter what anyone says.”, the defender responded seriously before pulling you into a close hug.

“Do you think you can fall asleep tonight?”, you asked her cautiously.

“I’ll try too.”, she answered honestly.

“Sleep well, Niamh.”, you wished her goodnight.

“You too.”

Both of you were drifting away into an exhausted sleep, this season has been tiring. In the morning you were feeling less sad because you could finally stop loving your favourite person in secret and live your truth.

Even though not everyone might like that fact, but you felt like a heavy weight has been lifted from your shoulders. You loved Niamh and it was okay if everyone knew about your love for each other.

[writeriguess]

Hi! I'm so happy you're back! Since you want requests-

Could you write Kaeya (genshin) friends to lovers? It's his first time having strong romantic feelings for someone, and reader overhears him talking about it to Diluc. Requited, happy ending? Thanks!

author's note: I'm happy to be back too <3

To the Brave

The Angel’s Share was quieter than usual, the soft hum of evening conversation filling the air like a gentle undercurrent. The scent of aged oak, spiced wine, and flickering candle wax mingled in the cozy warmth of the tavern. You sat at the bar, nursing a drink, watching the occasional swirl of amber liquid in your glass. Each time the door swung open, a cool breeze danced through the room, brushing against your skin before dissipating into the warmth of the tavern’s hearth.

Kaeya had invited you here earlier in the evening, flashing one of his signature smirks as he promised to steal a moment with you. But after a sudden wave of customers flooded in, demanding Diluc’s ever-efficient service, Kaeya had been unceremoniously pulled away to help. You had half-expected him to slip away and find an excuse to avoid work, but surprisingly, he stayed. Maybe it was Diluc’s infamous glare that kept him tethered to his duty tonight, or maybe—just maybe—Kaeya didn’t mind the distraction.

Either way, you were left waiting, sipping your drink, and soaking in the atmosphere.

You weren’t eavesdropping—not intentionally. But when you heard your name murmured from a shadowed corner near the storeroom, your attention sharpened. The sound of Kaeya’s voice, lower than usual, pulled you in like a tide, drawing your gaze toward the dimly lit corner.

“I don’t know why you’re telling me this,” Diluc muttered, arms crossed, his expression impassive but lacking its usual sharp edge.

“Because you’re the only one who’ll give me an honest answer,” Kaeya replied. His voice wasn’t its usual velvety tease. There was something raw there, something uncertain. “You’ve seen me at my best and worst. Do you think someone like me could ever… deserve them?”

Your breath caught. He was talking about someone—about you?

Diluc’s eyes flickered toward you briefly before he exhaled, shaking his head as if dealing with Kaeya’s turmoil was more exhausting than any rowdy tavern brawl. “If you want them to know how you feel, tell them. You’re wasting time brooding over it.”

Kaeya let out a quiet chuckle, but it lacked his usual charm. “Easier said than done. I’m not used to this. Flirting? Sure. Playing games? Absolutely. But this? It’s like… I’m afraid of ruining everything we already have.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs. Kaeya—always so effortlessly confident, so sure of himself—was nervous? About you?

“You’re overthinking it,” Diluc said, his tone gruff but not unkind. “They’re more patient with you than I’d ever be. Take that as a good sign.”

Kaeya’s laugh was softer this time, carrying a note of something more vulnerable. “Fair point.” He hesitated, his voice dropping lower, almost as if he were afraid to admit the next part. “I just… I’ve never felt this strongly about anyone before. It’s terrifying.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine. It was too much, too overwhelming, and yet your feet remained rooted to the floor. A part of you wanted to step away, to give him the privacy of his confession, but another part—a much louder part—needed to hear more.

Before you could overthink it, your lips parted, and his name left your mouth. “Kaeya?”

Both men turned to look at you. Kaeya’s eyes widened slightly, a rare moment of unguarded surprise breaking through his usual composed facade.

“How long have you been standing there?” he asked, his tone unreadable, but his cheeks tinged with color.

You swallowed hard, feeling your own face heat up. “Long enough.”

Diluc shot Kaeya a pointed look, one that clearly said, You’ve got this mess to clean up, before excusing himself, leaving the two of you alone in the dim, intimate space.

Kaeya tilted his head, a nervous smile flickering across his lips. “So, you heard that, huh?”

You nodded, fingers twisting in the hem of your sleeve. “Yeah. And… if you’re worried about ruining anything, don’t be. Because… I feel the same way.”

For a heartbeat, silence stretched between you. Kaeya stood perfectly still, his expression frozen in something like disbelief. Then, slowly, a genuine smile broke across his face—something real, something so achingly soft that it made your chest tighten.

“You mean that?” he asked, his voice hushed, as if he were afraid speaking too loudly might shatter the moment.

You stepped closer, emboldened by the hope flickering in his gaze. “I do. You’re not the only one who’s been scared of ruining things, Kaeya. But I think… it’s worth the risk.”

His breath left him in a quiet, incredulous laugh. One hand lifted to the back of his neck, fingers brushing through his dark blue hair in a rare display of nervousness. “Archons, you’re going to be the death of me.”

You chuckled, feeling the last of your nerves settle into something warm, something light. “Hopefully not.”

Kaeya’s laughter filled the space between you, unrestrained and genuine. Then, in a movement more like the Kaeya you knew, he stepped closer, closing the distance, his hand reaching out to take yours.

His fingers brushed over your knuckles, slow and deliberate, before curling around yours. His grip was warm, steady, yet hesitant, as if he still couldn’t quite believe this was real.

“Then let’s not waste any more time,” he murmured, his thumb tracing slow circles over your skin. “Because I’m done holding back.”

And as you looked up at him, at the sincerity in his gaze, at the quiet vulnerability he had laid bare, you realized something—so were you.

Kaeya exhaled, almost as if letting go of a burden he had carried for far too long. The corners of his lips curled into something softer than a smirk, more meaningful than a tease. “Come on,” he murmured, gently tugging you toward him. “Let’s get out of here.”

The tavern, the murmured conversations, the flickering candlelight—all of it faded into the background as you followed him, your heart pounding, your hand secure in his. Tonight, the only thing that mattered was the warmth of his touch and the promise lingering between you.

Feel free to request <3

[taurasiluv]

THROUGH SUNSHINE AND RAIN, I LOVE YOU. — breanna stewart x teammate!reader — 1.4k words

summary: you try to hide it, but breanna can always tell.

content warnings: hurt/comfort, implied mental health issues but it never goes in depth, sooo much fluff and stewie being a sweetheart

msg from sen: ik this is not seattle!stew fic but its all i got rn.. soon.. trust...

it was getting hard to pretend.

to pretend like everything was okay, like going to practice and games wasn’t debilitating, like even getting out of bed in the morning was easy these days. you were hoping your girlfriend wasn’t catching on, you were sure you were doing a good enough job for her not to notice, right? that’s what you hoped at least.

you went along with your days as you normally would, attempting to ignore the weight on your shoulders. that weight was coming to a spearhead though, it was getting harder to ignore and harder to pretend. you could feel yourself withdrawing, not hanging out after practice anymore, going home a lot earlier than the team and even your girlfriend. she was certainly catching on, but you didn’t notice, too busy trying to hide to realize the way she cocked her head and looked at you funny whenever you excused yourself to go home when the team was talking about team dinner after a game.

she never said anything though—at least not yet—she knew something was going on, but couldn’t quite figure out what. but, she was done pretending to not know anything, she wanted you to be okay.

it was another day where you were planning to leave practice early and go home to lay in bed til breanna came home, but your plan was very rudely interrupted when she stopped you.

“pause!” she called down the long hallway to the back exit of the practice facility.

you stopped in your tracks, taking a moment to fix your face to something a bit more bubbly and smiley before turning around, “hi baby,” you smiled, walking towards her.

she saw right through the facade but wasted no time to meet you in the middle and hug you. you immediately melted into the hug, holding her tight as if she was going to walk away and burying your face into her shoulder. you took in the sweet scent of her cologne, deodorant, and sweat all mixed together, somehow something that was so comforting to you.

she rubbed your back, slow and gentle, her blunt nails grazing the skin softly. “do you wanna talk about it?” she whispered in your ear softly. her tone was sweet and gentle, more inviting than demanding or begging. she truly was ready when you were, and if you were never ready, it didn’t matter to her. she just wanted you to be okay.

your walls broke down the second those words left her mouth, you felt the tears come to your eyes, your nose suddenly sniffling. you gripped her harder, somehow burying your face even deeper into the crook of her neck in an attempt to hide the tears that were about to start flowing at any second. you shook your head ‘no’, suddenly remembering you should probably answer the question she asked. it didn’t take her anytime to whisper an okay into your ear and hold you impossibly closer. one of her hands came up to your hair, running her fingers through it to regulate you.

sobs racked your body. every time your body shook she just held you tighter. you were sure your tears were soaking the shoulder of her shirt but neither of you could bring yourselves to care right now. she didn’t rush you, didn’t tell you to stop, just let you get it all out.

you managed to calm down a little bit, enough to pull away and look at her. her hand came up to your face, cupping it gently and rubbing her thumb back and forth across the soft skin of your cheek. “lets go home, yeah? we can pick up whatever you want on the way home,” she mumured, leaning in to kiss you on the forehead.

you sniffled a little, wiping away the remaining wet tears left on your face, “okay, i’m sorry.” you frowned, pushing your face further into her hand.

her face twisted, a look of sadness coming over her face, “why are you sorry princess?” she asked softly.

“i messed up your shirt and—“ you took a moment to sniffle again, wiping any more stray tears before continuing, “and i’m dragging you away from practice.” you explained, a pout on your lips.

she chuckled and shook her head, pulling you close so she could hug you again. she kisses the side of your head before speaking, “baby i don’t care about this stupid shirt or practice, you’re so much more important than any of that,” she said, rubbing your back in soft circular motions.

you took a deep breath to collect yourself a bit before pulling away from the hug. you wiped your face one last time and smiled at her. “can we get pizza and watch a shitty rom com,” you asked, your eyes lighting up.

she rolled her eyes and laughed, “of course baby,” she said, bringing you in to kiss you once more.

you two walked down the hallway, hand in hand—as always—and talked. you laughed at her stupid jokes, the ones that are so dumb and corny you have no choice but to laugh. you wrapped your arm around hers, leaning into her as you walked with her.

finally you two made it to the car. she took the both of your bags and tossed them into the backseat before opening the passenger door for you and allowing you to get in. she drove you two down the road, to your favorite pizza place to get food. you sat in the car, waiting for her. when she came back she came back with a lot more things than just pizza.

“when the fuck did they start selling wine and flowers in the pizza place?” you asked with a laugh, setting the pizza box into your lap and resting the bottle of wine and bouqet of tulips on top of it.

“theres a little grocery store connected in there, you’d never know that though since you always make me go in,” she teased, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“its not my fault you offer to go in every single time!” you shot back, laughing. you took her free hand into yours while she started the car in order to drive you two home.

—

“okay but did you know—“

“breanna i swear to god if you say another harry potter fact,”

she feigned offense, giving an overexaggerated pout before bursting out into laughter. “what! you don’t like my fun facts?!” she asked, stopping in front of the shared apartment door.

“i do! just not the same ones 50 times, my love.” you laughed, getting up on your tip toes to give her a kiss.

“so you dont love me is what im hearing?” she pouted.

“oh my god just shut up and open the door before i run away with the food and go eat it at sloots place.” you threatened, jabbing her with your finger.

she rolled her eyes with a smile, searching for her keys out of her pocket and opening the door.

you two got settled in, changing out of your practice clothes and into something a little more comfy. while breanna was getting wine glasses and plates you were putting the soft pink tulips into a vase and deciding on what shitty movie you were gonna make her watch this time.

she came up behind you, startling you slightly, “you ready, baby?” she asked, soft and gentle as always.

you nodded and put the last flower into the vase, setting it off to the side and turning to face her. “thank you, by the way. i love you.” you said quietly, cupping her face in order to kiss her.

“im always gonna be here for you princess. i will drop everything for you at any moment, please dont forget it.” she mumured against your lips.

you two made your way over to the couch. she always sits down first so you can sit on her lap, she knows its your favorite place to be. and she always keeps a fuzzy throw blanket on the couch because you always get cold. its moments like these where you remembered how cared for you are, how much breanna loves you and just how much she shows it.

you flicked through netflix, picking a cheesy rom com that breanna only tolerated cause it made you happy, and sipped on your wine.

the night was perfect, breanna held you close as always and shared her pizza with you—because even though you had your own plate, you still wanted bites off of hers—and tried her hardest not to fall asleep. though that was proving to be difficult, her eyes slowly getting heavier and heavier as the movie progessed.

[fashionteahouse]

So I don’t actually know how to work the interwebs and I was trying to send a video of what I’m talking about so I don’t sound crazy but anywaysss I’ll just try to explain it the best I can😅

The video shows a dad putting a flashlight to the moms belly and the baby reacting by kicking sooo I though maybe you could a Paul x reader where he’s always messing with her belly making the baby kick and tries the flashlight thing?

Anywho I hope that made sense!! You da best!🤍

dw i know what you’re talking about ;) thanks so much ! hope you enjoy :)

bb - paul x reader

The day was lazy as two bodies lie comfortably on the sofa that occupied the sitting room space. Even though your hands were filled with a magazine, your eyes look down at Paul, who soothingly rubs the skin of your stomach.

He’s not even paying attention to the sports game on the television. He takes a finger and puts a soft dent in your skin and you feel a bit of pressure. It wasn’t hard to hurt but it felt something like a butterfly.

A soft chuckle escapes Paul’s lips as he looked down in amazement. His eyes tear away from your belly to meet yours. His smile made you display your own smile.

“Did you feel that kick?” he asks you breathlessly.

You nod, really paying attention to the activity before you.

“I wonder if I can catch it on camera.” he says as he slides his phone out of his pocket.

“That would be amazing.” you tell him in a sappy voice. It would be a wonderful moment to look back on.

Paul aims it on your belly as he moves his hand in different directions to get the same reaction. The baby chose to not give the same kick that it did earlier.

Turning on the flash for the camera, he almost missed the second kick. He shoots his eyes up to you as you both laugh at this.

“Maybe they like light.” Paul states as he watches the skin of your stomach move a bit, showing the active life inside of you.

“Maybe.” you comment back, not shooting down his hypothesis.

His eyes search the coffee table as he stands up. You watch him with curious eyes to see what he’s going to do. He leaves the sitting room but before you could call him, he comes back out with an even bigger smile. A small flashlight from the kitchen drawer is in his hands.

You chuckle as you look at him, “What are you doing?”

“Im just seeing something.” he answers back and flops down next to you and switches the small light on.

Shining the light on your stomach, you both huff out a laugh once the under your skin showed a bit of movement, with you feeling the baby kick.

Paul’s smile never went away as he leaned over to kiss the same spot he’s seen the baby kick. He just couldn’t wait to meet this wonderful gift. He was dying to see what the baby would look like.

[katyawriteswhump]

the freak in the penthouse

Eddie became an accidental millionaire, coming up with creative content for a video game for his techy best bud Dustin. It's great at first… but not his dream. He winds up living in a hotel room, depressed he let his music hopes slip.

Steve, meanwhile, works in the hotel, and is desperately in debt for medical bills. When his boss asks him to get a male hooker for the ‘freak in the penthouse,' he can’t really let the ‘chance’ pass. After all, the 'freak' didn't look so bad to him, and he's done this kind of thing before when he had to...

Set in the early 90s with some period-typical homophobia. Shamelessly trope-y! This will probably go up to ‘E’ rated next chapter, but ‘M’ for now as this chapter isn’t too spicy yet ;)

also here on AO3 or search the tumblr tag #thefreakinthepenthouse

Chapter one: the freak

Eddie lingered in that warm, fuzzy twilight zone between sleep and wakefulness. He didn’t want to wake up.

His dream—at least, the parts of it trickling back to him—had been hot, hot, hot. He’d been killing it live to an insane sell-out crowd at the Hollywood Bowl and…

…what the hell?

More of Eddie’s dream filtered back. The part which explained his epic boner. He’d not been thrashing out a nine-minute-long power ballad. On that dream-stage, in front of that sell-out crowd, he’d been fucking a deadly hot, deadly cute guy.

Holy shit! That’s almost as unbelievable as anybody paying to come see me play.

He began to wake up for real. A keening sound escaped his throat. On the other hand, the joys of the night hadn’t quite evaporated.

Possibly because he’d gotten his nose buried in a mass of slightly sticky hair. 

He was spooning ANOTHER GUY.

The reality of last night rushed back. Every muscle in Eddie’s body locked up. Wow, wow, wow! And also, Shiiiiiit! 

Steve. That was the guy’s name. Eddie rubbed his nose in the nape of Steve’s neck, inhaling cheap hair gel.

Steve had been good. He’d kissed like a demon and offered up that to-die-for ass like a fallen angel. Eddie recalled rutting deep into Steve’s tight, pulsating body, till sweat stung his eyes. Yup, pure carnal pleasure was a decent distraction from being rich beyond your wildest dreams and too miserable as fuck to enjoy it.

On the flip-side, Eddie had few gripes about life at this particular moment. Slowly, careful not to wake Steve, Eddie crawled an arm over him, wandering fingers through the tangle of hair on Steve’s chest.

Bleeeeeep.

Steve cried, “Wha—?” and sat bolt upright, whacking Eddie’s arm out of the way. He blinked around, raking soft curls from his eyes. Damn. Steve was even cuter with his hair all natural, no longer slicked back.

Steve glanced at his watch and silenced the bleeps. “Crap! I’m on shift for breakfast. Gotta go.”

Steve was rushing around the room already, butt naked. Eddie sighed longingly at Steve’s ass. When Steve yanked some dark blue uniform pants from his knapsack and pulled them on, Eddie sighed even harder.

His focus drifted to the enormous clock-face painted directly onto the hideous pink paisley walls. 

“It’s 6 o’clock? In the morning?” He flipped his lank-feeling hair from his brow. “Uuuuugh. I’d forgotten there were two 6 o’clocks in the day.”

“Some of us have gotta earn a living.” Steve shoved his arms into a not particularly well-pressed white shirt then fiddled with the buttons at his throat. “Talking of which… Can I have my two-hundred bucks, please?”

…

Twelve hours earlier

“Got a job for you, Harrington,” said Kline, head concierge at the Beverly Hills Yorkshire. “Try not to mess this one up.”

Steve looked up from where he was emptying ashtrays into the trash. His least-loved superior drew close and dropped his usually bark-like voice to an undertone:

“Freak in the penthouse wants a hooker. Tonight. 8pm sharp.”

“Oh. Right.” Steve humoured Kline, answering in an equally conspiratorial tone. “Do I call the usual agency?”

“Hell, no. Freaks a freak! Wants a guy. Goddamn dirty queer.” Steve was still tipping ashtrays—best to always look busy when this sleazebag was around. Unfortunately, this meant Kline stuffed a note into the waistband of Steve’s pants, forcing Steve to suppress a shudder. “Deirdre gave me some numbers to call around. Whatever the dirty dogs quote, triple the number—no, quadruple it—before you tell the freak. We can turn a fat profit here. Reckon you can handle that? Or will the figures be too much for that air-brain little head of yours?”

After Kline departed, Steve pulled out the crumpled note. He stared at the numbers and chewed his lip. Fuck, fuck, FUCK. Could he really afford to pass this over?

He wasn’t allowed to wait tables in the silver-service grill anymore—he’d gotten one too many table orders muddled up. He was really feeling the pinch without those tips.

And the ‘freak’ had to be richer than God.

Dude had been shacked up in the penthouse for nearly three weeks now. That place cost over a thousand bucks a night. On the couple of occasions Steve had taken up room service, the guy had lurked in the gloom and behind a curtain of rocker hair. A pale hand with long, slender fingers offered out a ten-dollar bill.

He had to be a rockstar, right? Thought nobody had figured out what band he was in, and guys like that only buried themselves away to drink too much, do drugs, trash stuff, and… fuck whores.

Steve crumpled Kline’s note in his fist and resigned himself to it.  His medication had doubled in price this year, and he was reduced to sleeping in one of the hotel linen closets.

An extra hundred dollars or so would help a lot.

…

Eddie wished he hadn’t answered the phone. It was goddamn Dustin, berating him as ever:

“Eddie! Do I have to stick a firework up your butt or something? Suzie and I have got all the gameplay coding sorted for ‘Vecna’s Doom Quest II’ ready to rock and roll. All we want is for you to sprinkle your magic over the creative content, and we’ll be home and dry for another monster hit.”

“There’s the rub, Henderson. I’m not feeling wildly creative right now.”

“Then get out of that doily-saturated dumpster! Travel! Meet people! Honestly, what was the point of becoming a millionaire at twenty-four if you can’t enjoy yourself. If you’re still cut up about your music, then hire yourself another studio and—”

“You need to get off my back. After your hour-long lecture about how I needed to get laid, I went and did something stupid and now—”

“You did get a date?”

“No, I… Look, this is really not a good time, Henderson.” 

Eddie hung up. 

He instantly felt bad. Jesus, he spent his whole life feeling bad about something these days. 

He knew Dustin meant well. In his own arrogant-little-shit kinda way. Eddie probably should take his advice, go to a club, meet guys he’d like to date, and he would. If the thought of simply leaving the hotel didn’t shred his nerves ragged.

And there was no way he could tell Dustin he’d gone and ordered a rent boy on room service. After a couple of way-too-early-in-the-day shots of vodka, it’d seemed like a good idea. 

Not anymore.

Eddie picked up one of his many guitars, which lay propped alongside the ornate couch. He struck a miserably dissonant chord. The shady guy who’d sold it claimed it’d once belonged to Hendrix. Eddie hadn’t really fallen for that shit then paid a dumb price for it anyhow. On the off-chance it’d inspire some of that metal magic he’d let slip.

“Magic, Munson? You always sucked balls and you know it.”

Jesus, he was talking to himself now, and he knew he was wallowing. These past three weeks, it was all he’d done. Worse, he knew he was an ungrateful dick, not appreciating the journey he’d made from his uncle’s trailer to this.

Which made him hate himself even more.

He tossed the guitar down on the couch—would’ve smashed it, if not for just the teeniest chance Jimi did once deign to touch it. Instead, he punched one of the penthouse’s many fake-marble pillars, then whimpered, blowing on his damaged knuckles.

He was about to call down for ice—and to cancel his ‘date’—when the knock sounded at the door. He considered ignoring it. Then he noticed the time.

8pm.

Rent-boy o’clock.

He’d not realised the day had slid away so fast. It sure as heck dragged till now. He was still considering ignoring the knock, when it came again.

“Mister Munson?”

Eddie dithered a moment longer then went to the grand double doors and opened one a crack. 

His jaw dropped.

The guy waiting on his doormat was good-looking, for sure. Striking was the word that sprung next into Eddie’s mind. His slicked back hair was a touch too yuppy-frat-boy for Eddie’s taste. Eddie totally dug his eyeliner, though, which set off big chocolate eyes to perfection. A vest top revealed leanly muscled arms and was also cropped at his midriff to display a swatch of trim, lick-able flesh, intersected by a trail of wispy hair. His ripped jeans were so tight they might’ve been spray-painted on, and…

…he was also slightly familiar. Eddie was so busy gawking, he genuinely jumped when the guy spoke again.

“Hey. I’m Steve. You, uh, asked for—”

“Look, I was gonna call down and cancel. This was a friend’s idea.”  Yeah, blame Henderson, you snivelling coward. “I changed my mind, okay?”

“Oh.” Steve’s shoulders slumped, although something shifted in his eyes that might’ve been relief. “I’ll be off then… Oh hey, are you okay? What happened to your hand?”

Eddie had made the mistake of pinching the bridge of his nose with his puffy red fingers. “Oh, I’m fine. I whacked myself.”

“You want me to get you some ice?”

“Uuuuuh, hookers can do that?”

Steve winced slightly. “I actually work in the hotel. I mean, as a day job. Breakfast buffet, elevator, room service, odd jobs, that kinda thing.”

“Right.” That raised more questions that it answered. Eddie opted not to pry. “Thought you looked familiar. You look different out of—”

“Out of the shitty bellboy outfit?” Steve rolled those way too pretty eyes, and dumped a bulging knapsack by the doors. “I’ll grab that ice.”

…

Steve dashed to the nearest ice-dispenser, grabbed a first-aid kit too. He rushed back to the penthouse. His heart raced, and he felt kinda flushed, despite the arctic setting on the air con.

Up close, the ‘freak’ was pretty good-looking, if slightly Goth-y and pale. And Steve had to get out of the nasty-ass habit of thinking of him as ‘the freak.’ Now he’d gotten face-to-face with the guy, it seemed mean and douchy.

One of the doors was ajar when he returned. Eddie sat on one of several luxuriant couches, his head in his hands. The place smelled faintly of weed, but nothing worse. Steve coughed, cleared his throat: “Got the ice, Mister Munson, Sir.”

“Jesus, none of that shit. It’s Eddie.”

“Wow. My favourite name.”

Eddie snorted. “Horseshit.”

Steve wrapped some ice chips in a napkin, sat down beside Eddie, who downed a glass of clear liquid that Steve suspected was vodka. Then, hesitantly, Eddie stretched out an elegant, long-fingered hand. Steve took it one of his and pressed the ice to Eddie’s swollen knuckles. Eddie appeared reluctant to look him in the eye, which made Steve feel dead awkward too.

He noticed a massive crack in one of the pillars. Had to be recent. Plaster dust sprinkled the otherwise immaculate Persian carpet beneath.

“You wanna talk about it?” he said, returning his attention to Eddie’s hand. “Did you have an argument with your girlf… boyfriend.”

“Ain’t got no one, brother. Went and ordered you, didn’t I?”

Steve felt like he’d been slapped. Yeah, he’d been ordered on room service, like a platter of meat. Okay, he’d kinda chosen this but… Choices, real choices, had been out of his league for what felt like forever.

He gritted his teeth. “You want me to bandage this, or should I just leave?”

That got Eddie looking up sharply. “Leave?”

“You said you were gonna cancel? Not in the groove for booty calls, huh?”

Steve watched Eddie’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. He tugged his hand away from Steve, picked up the glass with tips of those delicious fingers and offered it to Steve. “Changed my mind. Drink?”

“I feel I should pour, right?” said Steve, nerves fizzing.

Eddie was finally looking at him again, eyes narrowed to simmering slits: “If you like.”

...

anyone here for this? <3 likes reblogs and comments much appreciated and will feed the bunnies🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕

Chapter 2 on tumblr

Chapter 2 on AO3

I've added a hashtag #thefreakinthepenthouse for ease of finding the earlier parts. I can also tag if anybody is interested... please let me know.

zero pressure and one-off tag @sidekick-hero who kindly asked about this one in the WIP tag game and just got a surprised blurble as I'd not typed anything up then...

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter thirty-four: Lines Crossed

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

previous | 34 | next

Series Masterlist

The silence between you stretched, thick and suffocating.

In-ho didn’t move from the doorway. He stood there, his mask betraying nothing, but the weight of his gaze felt heavier than ever. His gloved hands flexed slightly at his sides, a barely perceptible movement, but you caught it.

He knew.

He knew you had seen.

You swallowed hard, willing yourself to keep your expression neutral, though your pulse was a frantic rhythm against your ribs. The drawer was closed now, the photos tucked away as if they had never been disturbed. But that didn’t matter.

He knew.

A long moment passed before he finally stepped forward, his movements slow, calculated. The door shut behind him with a soft click, locking you both inside.

Your fingers curled against the sides of your thighs as you forced yourself to hold his gaze. “You took too long.”

His head tilted slightly, as if weighing your words. “And you got impatient.”

You exhaled through your nose, trying to steady yourself. “I wanted to understand you.”

“Did you?” His voice was quiet, dangerously unreadable.

You hesitated. “I think so.”

Another beat of silence. Then, he stepped closer, until there was barely a foot of space between you. His presence was suffocating, demanding, but you refused to back down.

“Then tell me,” he murmured. “What exactly do you think you understand?”

Your throat went dry. He was challenging you, pushing you to say it out loud.

You clenched your jaw. “That you had a wife.” Your voice was steadier than you expected. “A child.”

Something in the air shifted.

He didn’t confirm it. Didn’t deny it. But he also didn’t look away.

Your chest tightened. “That you had a brother.”

This time, the silence was longer. His gloved fingers twitched at his sides.

Still, no confirmation.

But he didn’t have to say it.

You had seen the truth written in the way he kept those pictures—hidden yet untouched, as if moving them would make them feel less real.

“In-ho…” You hesitated before continuing, your voice softer. “What happened to them?”

His shoulders tensed.

For a long time, he said nothing. Then—

“They’re gone.”

His tone was flat. Final.

And yet, beneath those two words, you heard everything.

The pain. The loss. The guilt.

Gone.

You didn’t ask how. You weren’t sure if you were ready to hear the answer.

He exhaled slowly, tilting his head at you. “You crossed a line.”

Your pulse quickened. “Maybe.”

His fingers twitched again. “And what should I do about that?”

You held your ground. “Whatever you want.”

The words hung between you, charged with something unspoken. His mask tilted slightly, as if he were studying you, searching for something.

And then, he did something unexpected.

He turned away.

Without another word, he walked past you, toward his desk. The tension in the room remained, but he didn’t touch you, didn’t lash out. Instead, he picked up the glass of whiskey he had abandoned earlier and took a slow sip.

His voice was quieter when he spoke again. “You should go to bed.”

Your heart twisted. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t even lashing out.

He was retreating.

Shutting down.

Because talking about them—acknowledging them—made them real again.

You watched him for a moment before sighing. “You can’t avoid this forever.”

He didn’t look at you. “Go to bed, Y/N.”

You hesitated. Then, finally, you turned and walked toward the door.

Just before you stepped out, you glanced back.

He was still standing by the desk, staring down at his glass like it held all the answers.

But you knew the truth.

Nothing in this place could bring back what he lost.

And nothing could fix the parts of him that were still breaking.

———————

Chapter thirty four!! Let me know what you think! Thank you!

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[nneptunexo]

── 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬, 𝐒𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 ⋆

rafe cameron x f!reader

part two !

notes: this is my first time writing and posting in english so i hope I didn’t misspelled anything :)

The sun in the Outer Banks hit different in the late afternoon—golden, lazy, and hot enough to make everything feel a little dreamlike. You were leaning against the railing of the porch at the Cameron house, your lemonade sweating in your hand, watching the waves crash lazily against the shore.

You weren’t supposed to be here.

You knew that.

Wheezing motorcycles and drunken fights aside, the Cameron estate wasn’t exactly known for its warm welcomes. But when Wheezie had invited you over, practically begged you to come spend the weekend—“please, I need another girl here or I’ll lose my mind” — you caved. Against your better judgment, you said yes.

Now you were regretting it. Or, more accurately, regretting that he was here too.

Rafe Cameron.

He hadn’t spoken more than a few words to you since you arrived last night, but somehow he still managed to make you feel…watched. Judged. Maybe even hunted. You couldn't quite figure him out. He was cold. Closed off. Mean in a way that didn’t make sense, like he wasn’t just lashing out at the world but at himself too.

Still, when you caught him earlier—alone in the kitchen, shirtless and brooding over a protein shake—you’d said, “Good morning,” with a smile. Just being polite.

He’d looked up, eyes piercing, and replied, “Is it?”

What a charmer.

Now, you were counting seagulls and wondering how early was too early to leave when the porch door creaked open behind you.

Footsteps. Heavy ones.

You didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“You’re in my spot,” Rafe said flatly.

You turned, leaning your hip against the railing, trying not to seem too intimidated. “Didn’t know it was assigned seating.”

He didn’t smile. Of course he didn’t. But something in his expression flickered. Like he wasn’t used to people talking back to him—at least not nicely.

“I always sit there,” he said.

You lifted your lemonade. “Guess you’ll have to share".

Rafe didn’t answer at first. Just stared at you with that unreadable expression of his, like he was trying to figure out your angle. Like he thought your kindness was some sort of game.

But instead of pushing you aside or walking away, he sat down.

Right next to you.

The porch swing creaked under his weight. You stayed still for a second, then slid half an inch closer to the edge—not that it made much difference. He was warm. Solid. You could feel the heat radiating off him even though he wasn’t touching you.

“Lemonade?” you offered, holding your glass out to him.

He looked at it like it might be poisoned. “No thanks.”

You shrugged, taking a sip yourself. “Suit yourself.”

The silence between you stretched on, filled only by the sound of the waves and the distant calls of gulls. You weren’t exactly sure why you stayed—why you didn’t get up and go find Wheezie or grab your book or literally do anything else.

But something about him made you want to stay.

“Why are you so… nice?” Rafe asked suddenly, his voice low and rough like he wasn’t used to using it for anything gentle.

You blinked. “What?”

“To everyone,” he said. “You’re nice to Wheezie. To the staff. Even me, and I’ve been kind of an asshole.”

You smiled a little, keeping your eyes on the ocean. “Being mean takes too much energy.”

“Or maybe you’re just soft.”

You turned your head to look at him. He wasn’t looking at you—he was staring straight ahead, jaw tense, eyes distant.

“I don’t think being soft is a bad thing,” you said after a moment.

Rafe didn’t respond, but his hand shifted on the porch swing, fingers flexing like he wanted to say something else and didn’t know how.

Later that night, after dinner (tense and awkward, thanks to Ward being Ward), you found yourself wandering into the living room in search of a good spot to read. The couch was empty. The lights were dimmed. It was peaceful.

You curled up in the corner, blanket over your lap, and cracked open your book.

You were about halfway into your chapter when Rafe walked in.

Hair damp from a shower. White T-shirt clinging to his chest. A sleepy scowl on his face.

“You’re still up?” he asked.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you said without looking up.

He hovered in the doorway for a second, then walked over to the other end of the couch. You felt the dip as he sat, then stretched out—long legs almost brushing yours.

“Can’t sleep either,” he muttered, pulling a cushion behind his head. “Too quiet.”

You watched him from the corner of your eye. For someone who acted so confident, he looked… restless. Like his own thoughts wouldn’t let him be.

"You want me to read out loud?" you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Rafe looked up from where he sat, flipping his lighter open and closed. His brow twitched, “What for?”

You fumbled for a reason. “I just thought... maybe it’s better than sitting in silence?”

He didn’t answer right away, just studied you for a second too long. Not hostile, just... wary. Like he was waiting for the catch.

Then, with a small shake of his head, he muttered, “Whatever. Do what you want.”

You opened the book before you could change your mind. The words felt strange coming out of your mouth, like you were trespassing on something private, but you kept going.

Rafe didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look at you. Just sat there, one leg bouncing, knuckles tapping his knee. But after a while, the tapping stopped. His eyes stayed open, but unfocused.

When you finally paused at the end of the chapter, unsure if you should keep going, he spoke. Quiet. Not soft—just low.

“You always talk this much?”

You blinked. “Uh. No?”

He gave the faintest smirk, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You flushed. “I���ll stop, then.”

“No,” he said, already leaning back again. “Didn’t say that.”

You glanced down at the book, unsure, but turned the page anyway.

When you finished the next chapter, his voice cut through the quiet again, a little rougher this time. “You know... your voice is kind of... calming.”

You weren’t sure if you’d heard him right. “What?”

Rafe’s eyes flicked over to you for just a second before he looked away, like he was trying to act like he hadn’t said anything at all. “I mean, it’s... not bad. Makes things feel less... tense.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just nodded and kept reading, even though your heart had started beating a little faster than it had before.

[joeybsversion]

Strangers

Joe Burrow x Reader

You and Joe try to work things out

“Dear Me,” you scribbled into your journal, humming along to the soft music at the coffee shop. “He’s leaving for the NFL, you still have one more year of college. Let him go. He will find bigger and better things than you. Let him find a nice girl he can bring to games. There will be someone he can be happy with. Yes, he’s sweet, and caring, and handsome, but he is also grown up.” You set your pen down, taking a sip of your coffee, hoping it would help the lump in your throat disappear.

The door of the coffee shop quietly swung open. You glanced up, as you always did out of curiosity. You know what they say, curiosity kills the cat. At that exact moment, you were the cat. Joe walked in, with confidence, in a jacket you had gotten him a few months ago. He smiled at strangers around him, and then gave you the same smile. That’s when you realized, you were now a stranger to him.

You quickly flung the front cover of your leather journal shut, stuffed your pen into your purse, and did anything to make yourself look busy. Two hands quickly met the top of the table you were sitting at.

“Hey.” Joe cleared his throat.

“Oh, hey.” You looked down, doing your best to make sure he couldn’t see the tears that had formed in your eyes as you wrote about him just moments earlier.

“Writing?” He asked, pulling out the chair across from you and taking a seat.

“Studying.” You lied.

You sat in silence for what felt like an eternity. Both of you searching for the right words to say. You hadn’t seen Joe in nearly 3 months now. And it had been some of the most emotionally draining 3 months of your life. Neither of you really officially ended things, but you both knew. “Goodbye.” “I love you.” “I’m sorry.” “Good luck.”

“Can we talk?” Joe croaked out.

“I don’t think there’s really much to say.”

“I’m sorry.” He reached over and grabbed your hands. “Please, just give me a minute. I need closure.”

You hated that word. Somewhere in the back of your brain, you hoped he would promise you a future and things would go back to the way they were. But here he was, confirming that things were officially over.

“It’s been 76 days. I’ve spent every single one thinking about you.” He brushed his thumb across the top of your hand as he spoke. “I thought I knew what I wanted. Becoming an NFL quarterback. Being the most popular, most liked person in the room. I thought those things would make me happy. And they did….temporarily. But you,” he paused, clearing his throat, “You’re the only thing that could make me happy forever.”

You choked out a little half laugh, half sob. “Please don’t say stuff like that. We both know it’s not true.” You shook your head.

“Please don’t play the victim and act like I’m the bad guy.” Joe scoffed, the tone in his voice quickly changing. “Don’t forget, you’re the one that said things weren’t going to work.”

“What was I supposed to say when you said you were leaving?” You pulled your hands away from his. “Don’t leave? I love you?” You questioned.

He shrugged and let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know. Okay? But I thought you’d say something.”

“I’m sorry.” You swallowed the lump in your throat, the anger in his voice was making you nervous.

“Do you want to try again?” He asks barely loud enough for you to hear him.

You can’t answer, your throat is too thick with emotion.

“If you want me to beg, I will. If you want me to jump through flaming hoops, then bring them on. I’ll spend every waking hour I have until I have to report to training camp proving to you how badly I want you.” He looked away, blinking back a few tears.

You felt your own lips start to tremble. His words are painful and beautiful at the same time.

“Every word is the truth. I want you back. I can’t imagine starting this new journey without you.” He said. “I fucked up letting you go. I still love you.”

You swallow a sip of coffee, hoping the caffeine will fill you with the right words to say. “Even though I have another year of College left?”

He smiles. “My rookie year is going to be chaotic, and busy. It’ll be better for both of us if you’re busy too, dontcha think?”

He makes a fair point.

“We can make it work. I know we can. The question is, do you want to try again?” He pauses. “Do you want me?”

You can see the fear that you might reject him in his eyes. His hands are trembling on the table. His breathes are shallow and quick. The one thing he is confident about though, is wanting to make things work with you.

“I want you.”