#a moment where he feels...almost tangible. if only for a moment | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shy9-29 · 2 months ago

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Secretly Yours ☆ 박종성

“academic rivals to lovers” - enhypen campus series

☆ Forced to be rivals in the classroom, you never expected to fall for Jay—the one guy your best friend swore you should never trust. ✉️ wc. 11.3k ⚠️ tw. swearing, bullying, teasing, name calling, third wheeling 💔 false runors 📝: this is honeslty so cute and 4/7 of the members are done! let me know if you would like to be tagged for Jungwon’s trope as I will be writing his next. 박종성 x f reader

🏷️ @starniras @dearestdreamie @tkooooop @xuevkim @deluluscenarios @starboy-library @melodiessvy @steddie-steddie @i-am-not-dal @nct-sticker-127 @elimelbe @wonbinceps

It was a typical Tuesday lunch, and yet, you were finding yourself struggling to swallow the lump in your throat as you sat across from Heeseung and his girlfriend. They were laughing, teasing each other, their smiles easy and natural, as if they were the only two people in the world. You couldn’t help but feel like a third wheel—no, not just a third wheel. You were a joke third wheel, the one that could only sit in silence and watch as your best friend basked in the comfortable glow of a relationship you’d never quite understood.

Sure, you’d been friends with Heeseung for years, but watching him and his girlfriend together, this… thing between them that was so tangible, yet so fragile, made you realize just how much things had changed. You’d heard the rumors, of course. Everyone had. Heeseung and his girlfriend were that couple—perfect for each other one minute, toxic the next. Always breaking up and making up, but never really fixing anything. Every time they fought, Heeseung would storm to you afterward, venting about how his girlfriend wasn’t understanding him or how she’d said something hurtful. But when the storm passed, he’d always go back to her, and you’d be left standing in the middle, a supporting role, a listener—but never more.

And you never caught feelings for him. You knew better. Heeseung was your childhood best friend, the guy you grew up with, the guy who knew all your secrets, and vice versa. He was like a brother to you, and you couldn’t ever imagine crossing that line. And Heeseung? He never gave you a second thought in that way. He had his girlfriend, and you had your quiet corner of the world, content with your own space.

But now, you were sitting across from them, trying to smile through the awkwardness, pretending you weren’t hurt by the distance that had grown between you two over the years. It wasn’t even about the relationship itself, not really—it was about the way things had changed. Heeseung didn’t come to you as often anymore, and when he did, it was usually because he was angry or upset about something. And you were fine with that—until today.

“So,” Heeseung started, glancing over at you with a tired look in his eyes, “you know that dickhead, Jay, right?”

You nodded, taking a bite of your salad, unsure of where this conversation was headed.

“I’m still pissed at him,” Heeseung continued, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t care how much time has passed—what he did to me and her… I’m never going to forgive him.” He stabbed his fork into his pasta a little too aggressively, and you couldn’t help but notice the bitterness in his tone. “He kissed my girlfriend. And not just once. Twice.”

You frowned, looking between Heeseung and his girlfriend, who was sitting next to him, quietly fiddling with her phone. She didn’t seem as riled up about it as Heeseung was. In fact, she looked a little… resigned.

“Relax, Heeseung,” she chimed in, her voice softer, almost pleading. “That was a long time ago. Can’t you just forgive him already?”

Heeseung shook his head, lips pressed into a thin line. “I can’t. I just can’t. Not after everything. I don’t trust him, and I never will.”

You were quiet for a moment, staring into your food, lost in thought. You hadn’t even met Jay in person, but you knew enough about him from Heeseung’s rants—how he’d screwed up everything by kissing Heeseung’s girlfriend, how he was always getting under Heeseung’s skin with his cocky attitude. You didn’t know Jay well, but you couldn’t help but feel a grudge against him, too. Heeseung had always been there for you, and now, it was your turn to have his back.

You glanced at Heeseung’s girlfriend. “I get it. He messed up. But if he’s really your friend, don’t you think you should at least try to move on? I mean, holding onto it forever—”

“I can’t.” Heeseung’s voice was final, cutting you off. “I won’t. I’ve tried, believe me, but it just eats at me every time I think about it. I can’t just forget.”

You stayed silent, unsure how to respond. It wasn’t your place to intervene. You had your own tangled mess of emotions, but you kept them locked away. The last thing Heeseung needed right now was for you to add to his frustrations.

At that moment, the door to the cafeteria swung open, and in walked Sunghoon and his girlfriend. Sunghoon was always the quiet one—the kind of guy who would sit back and observe everything with a detached calmness that almost seemed unnatural. He was an introvert, a man of few words, but when he did speak, it carried weight. His girlfriend, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. She was loud, energetic, and always talking, often dragging Sunghoon along in whatever conversation she had going.

They sat down next to you, and Sunghoon’s girlfriend immediately leaned forward, her smile wide and playful. “Hey guys!” she greeted before turning her gaze to you. “So, what do you think about Jay, babe?”

You nearly choked on your food. You had no idea what Sunghoon thought about Jay—none of you really did. He was the kind of guy who kept his opinions close to his chest. He wasn’t the type to engage in petty drama or gossip.

Sunghoon just shrugged, his gaze flicking to Heeseung for a second before returning to his girlfriend. “He’s whatever,” he said quietly, his voice neutral, as though the whole Jay situation didn’t even register. “Not my problem.”

His girlfriend rolled her eyes with a laugh. “You’re so boring, Sunghoon.”

But even as his girlfriend playfully teased him, you couldn’t help but feel that pull again—the strange dynamic that seemed to always exist between you, Heeseung, and now Jay.

You glanced over at Heeseung, who was staring at Sunghoon with a look that you couldn’t quite decipher. It was a mix of annoyance, jealousy, and maybe, just maybe, something else.

But you didn’t have time to analyze it. Because you knew, no matter what, the tension was building, and soon enough, you’d be caught in the middle of it all

And what scared you most? You didn’t know if you’d be able to get out of it.

You sat back in your chair, staring at the two couples in front of you. Heeseung and his girlfriend were whispering something to each other, their heads close together, their hands brushing occasionally as if the world didn’t exist beyond their bubble. And then there was Sunghoon and his girlfriend, chatting away animatedly, with Sunghoon’s quiet presence in the background, nodding occasionally as she continued her endless chatter.

You felt a pang in your chest, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. You were surrounded by couples. Two of them, in fact—both of which seemed so… effortlessly happy, wrapped up in their own little worlds. And then there was you. Sitting alone at the table, a third wheel, no partner to distract you from the uncomfortable silence.

You groaned, dropping your forehead onto your arms. “Oh my god, I feel so single,” you muttered, the words escaping before you could stop them. You couldn’t help it. The jealousy, the loneliness—it was starting to eat at you, just a little bit.

Heeseung didn’t seem to notice, too absorbed in his conversation with his girlfriend. Sunghoon’s girlfriend, however, let out a laugh, glancing at you with a teasing smile. “You’re totally single, huh?” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t it fun?”

You glared at her, rolling your eyes dramatically. “Yeah, so much fun,” you replied, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “Can’t wait to be the eternal third wheel.”

“You’re not eternal,” Sunghoon’s girlfriend said with a wink. “You’re just waiting for the right person to come along.”

You glanced at her, unimpressed. “If the right person is anything like Heeseung or Jay, I’ll pass.”

At that, Sunghoon let out a quiet chuckle, and even Heeseung’s girlfriend smiled softly. But the moment quickly passed, and you were left with the same feeling—surrounded by people who had someone to lean on, while you were left to sit with the emptiness.

It wasn’t that you were against being single, but today, right now, it stung just a little more than usual. The couples’ laughter and shared glances were like a reminder of what you didn’t have. And that reminder was just too loud in the middle of this lunch.

You sat up, trying to shake off the bitter feeling settling in your chest. “Alright, alright, I’m not that dramatic. It’s just… you know…” You trailed off, hoping to change the subject.

Sunghoon’s girlfriend shot you a sympathetic look. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Just enjoy your food. And if it helps, I can always hook you up with some of my friends.” She gave you a mischievous grin, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

You smiled weakly but couldn’t quite shake off that feeling of being an outsider, watching the world go by in pairs.

It was much later in the evening when you found yourself sprawled across your shared dorm bed, dramatically burying your face in a pillow as the weight of the day’s fifth-wheeling trauma crashed over you all over again.

“I need someone so bad,” you groaned, voice muffled by the fabric. “Like, genuinely. I was fifth wheeling earlier today, Sunoo. Fifth. That’s not even normal. That’s just disrespectful.”

Sunoo, your roommate and longtime partner-in-chaos, glanced up from his skincare routine, dabbing toner gently onto his cheeks. “Honestly? I think it’s kind of iconic. Like, you’re the main character surrounded by background couples. It’s giving ‘independent baddie who doesn’t need a man.’ Very inspiring.”

You lifted your head to glare at him. “Inspiring? My entire lunch was a rom-com montage minus the actual romance. Heeseung and his girlfriend were being all cute and annoying, Sunghoon’s girlfriend was feeding him fries while he looked like he was contemplating the meaning of life, and I was there… chewing sad lettuce.”

Sunoo stifled a laugh. “Sad lettuce is such a vibe though.”

You dropped your head back onto the pillow. “I’m not joking, I actually feel like I’m gonna rot away as the token single friend.”

“Please,” Sunoo scoffed, moving to sit on the edge of your bed, legs crossed neatly. “Relationship stuff is so overrated. Love? Dumb. People? Dumber. You know Jake and his girlfriend? I still don’t understand how she took him back after that whole mess.”

You lifted a brow, glancing up at him. “What mess?”

Sunoo gave you a look like girl, where have you been?

“You don’t remember? Back when Jake and Jay had that idiotic bet—the bet?” He rolled his eyes and clasped his hands together mockingly. “Make her fall for me in a week or whatever.”

You blinked. “Wait. What?”

“Yeah,” Sunoo said, lips curling into a smirk like he’d been dying to spill the tea. “This was way back, before Jake actually caught feelings. But it was real. Him and Jay thought it would be ‘fun’ to bet on who could get someone to fall for them faster. Jake picked his now-girlfriend, and Jay picked some other girl from our econ class—Soobin, I think? Anyway, Jake actually started falling for her mid-bet and had a whole breakdown over it. Jay? I don’t even know what happened with his half. He’s a mystery.”

You sat up, your expression stunned. “So Jay actually did that?”

Sunoo nodded. “Mhm. He never really talked about it after. Most people forgot, but I didn’t. I don’t forget stuff like that.”

Your nose scrunched. “Ew. That’s actually disgusting.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Sunoo sighed. “Like, love is not a game, babe. These guys out here are not serious.”

You chewed on your lip, letting the information settle. The grudge you already had toward Jay—planted by Heeseung and watered by years of side comments—suddenly felt validated. You didn’t know Jay personally, but from what you’d seen and heard, he was just another cocky guy who probably thought every girl wanted him. And now, knowing he made a bet like that? Your opinion of him sank even lower.

Still, a part of you was curious. Why did people still talk about him like there was more to the story? Why did Jake—arguably reformed—still hang around him? And why did you keep hearing Jay’s name pop up lately like he was some inevitable storm you were supposed to run into?

“So,” you said slowly, casually lying back down and folding your arms behind your head. “What do you think about Jay?”

Sunoo raised a brow, turning his head toward you like he was trying to figure out if you were joking. “Jay?”

You nodded.

“Honestly? I think he’s one of those guys who pretends not to care but lowkey cares a lot. Too much, maybe. He’s hot, I’ll give him that—but emotionally? Questionable. Like, he’s the kind of guy who’d flirt with you at 2 a.m. and then act like it never happened the next day. A walking green flag wrapped in red ribbon.”

You laughed, and Sunoo joined in, shaking his head.

“But,” he added, pointing a finger at you dramatically, “don’t let the face fool you. Pretty doesn’t mean trustworthy. Especially with Jay.”

You weren’t planning on letting it fool you.

At least, not yet.

It started with an eye roll.

Jay had made some snide remark about how your thesis summary lacked depth—depth, of all things—and you had to physically stop yourself from lobbing your pen across the lecture hall. You turned to him with the tightest smile you could manage and replied, “Right. Because the guy who spelled ‘Nietzsche’ wrong three times during last week’s debate is suddenly the standard.”

The professor chuckled like he was watching his favorite sitcom unfold. The rest of the class watched with that usual amused tension—the kind reserved for two people who were one sarcastic comment away from either ripping each other’s heads off or ripping each other’s clothes off. You refused to entertain the second option.

Jay was your academic rival. Has been since semester one. He was cocky, smart, and unfortunately, good-looking in a way that made your life more difficult than it needed to be. Every paper you aced, he had to beat by 0.5%. Every time you raised your hand, he’d follow with a rebuttal. You lived to make him eat his words. And from the smug way he smirked every time you got fired up, you knew he lived for it too.

Which is why when Professor Kim announced the University-Wide Academic Challenge, it wasn’t even a question who your competition would be.

And because the universe had a twisted sense of humor, they paired you with Jay for the regional prep rounds. As partners.

“I’ll drop out,” you told Sunoo dramatically that night. “I’ll pack my bags and transfer. I’ll fake my death and become a poet in the mountains before I partner with him.”

Sunoo had just blinked at you and said, “You’re so dramatic. Just destroy him with your intellect like usual.”

But it didn’t stop there. After a few forced library sessions and hours of silent research, the tension between you and Jay reached a boiling point. That’s when the bet happened.

“If I win,” you’d said, eyes narrowed, “you carry my bag, grab my coffee, and walk two steps behind me for a week.”

He had leaned forward, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And if I win, you do the same.”

“And wear a ‘Jay is smarter than me’ sticker.”

“Deal.”

You shook on it like two enemies sealing their fates.

The week leading up to the challenge was ruthless. Debates in lecture halls, snarky notes left in shared textbooks, accidental shoulder bumps in the hallway that were never really accidental. You hated how good he was at keeping up with you. You hated even more that he made it feel… fun.

But after the results came in—after you tied, somehow, impossibly—you both stood outside the library, blinking in disbelief.

“Rematch?” he’d asked.

You tilted your head. “Or we just… call it even.”

He raised a brow. “Truce?”

You nodded slowly. “Truce.”

That truce, as it turned out, involved a lot of late-night study sessions. Whispered insults that started sounding like inside jokes. Accidental brushes of fingers that neither of you pulled away from. And eventually—somewhere between quiz prep and coffee runs—you kissed him.

The secrecy started right then. Because if Heeseung ever found out you were sneaking around with Jay—the same Jay he despised for “making out with his girlfriend twice”—he’d lose his mind. He’d call it betrayal. And you… you didn’t want to lose Heeseung either.

So you and Jay kept it quiet. A little rebellion, tucked between stacks of books and whispered under breathless kisses in quiet hallways.

You didn’t mean for it to become something real. But then again, you never expected him to look at you like that. Like you weren’t just his rival—but something else entirely.

And because you’d been spending a lot more time with him lately—strictly because of competition, of course, and not because of the way he furrowed his brows when he was focused or the way he actually listened when you spoke—you found yourself getting… curious. Against your better judgment.

You still hated him. That hadn’t changed. He was still Jay Park, your so-called academic nemesis, the cocky know-it-all who had allegedly kissed Heeseung’s girlfriend twice and made a game out of breaking girls’ hearts with Jake. Sunoo told you he was a walking red flag in designer sneakers. Heeseung said he was a traitor, a manipulator, a snake.

But… he also carried your books without asking last week. And when you fell asleep over your notes during one of your 2 a.m. study grinds, you woke up to find a neatly scribbled list of everything you missed—and a cup of hot chocolate, extra whipped cream, just how you liked it.

So yeah. You were confused. Just enough to want a second opinion.

You spotted him by the vending machine near the economics building, fiddling with the coin slot and humming some offbeat tune under his breath. Jake Sim. Jay’s best friend. The one person who might actually give you answers.

You inhaled sharply and walked up to him, half-regretting it before you even opened your mouth.

“Hi,” you started, awkwardly. “You probably don’t know me, but I know you, and this might seem kind of weird but—”

Jake turned to you with a crooked grin, eyes lighting up. “Oh, I know you.”

You blinked. “You do?”

He nodded. “You’re the girl.”

“What girl?”

“The one Jay’s always ranting about,” Jake said casually, like he wasn’t just detonating a bomb inside your chest. “The academic rival. The one who talks fast when she’s annoyed and refuses to take help on joint projects.”

You stared at him.

Jake just chuckled. “Yeah. He’s talked about you. A lot.”

Your mouth opened, then closed. “Right. Cool. Um… that’s not why I’m here though.”

Jake leaned against the vending machine, still smiling like he had front row seats to your mental breakdown. “Go on.”

“I… wanted to ask you something about Jay,” you said carefully, choosing each word like it was a live wire. “Just… some things I’ve heard.”

Jake raised a brow. “Let me guess. The bet thing? And the drama with Heeseung’s girl?”

You gave a cautious nod.

Jake sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Man, people don’t let that stuff go. Yeah, the bet was real. But it was forever ago, and he pulled out of it almost immediately. He felt bad about it. Still does, I think.”

You chewed your lip. “And the other thing?”

“The kiss?” Jake nodded. “It happened once, and it wasn’t what everyone made it out to be. She kissed him, technically. But it was before her and Heeseung were even together. Jay didn’t even know they were a thing yet.”

You didn’t say anything, trying to make sense of it all—trying to balance what you’d been told for months against the guy who now held open doors for you and left sticky notes with passive-aggressive compliments on your notebooks.

Jake tilted his head, watching you. “You like him, don’t you?”

Your eyes snapped up. “What? No.”

He grinned. “You do.”

“I hate him.”

“Sure you do,” he said, clearly not convinced. “That’s why you’re out here asking his best friend for the whole story.”

You crossed your arms, feeling caught.

Jake just laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell him.”

You shook your head, muttering something about this being a bad idea as you turned to leave, but you didn’t miss the way Jake called after you with a teasing lilt in his voice.

“He likes you too, you know.”

Jay won.

By half a point.

You stared at the scoreboard like it had personally betrayed you, your mouth slightly open, the air sucked right out of your lungs. Half a damn point.

Jay, standing just a few feet away with his stupid perfect posture and that smug little smirk, turned to you slowly, like he’d been waiting for this moment since the second you made the bet.

“Guess that makes you my servant for the week, huh?” he said, hands in his pockets, tone smooth as ever.

You rolled your eyes and shoved your notebook into your bag with more force than necessary. “You cheated.”

“I didn’t.”

“Then you bribed someone.”

Jay grinned, tilting his head. “Maybe I’m just smarter than you.”

You scoffed. “You’re not.”

“Then what does that say about you, loser?”

You almost threw your pen at him.

Almost.

But you didn’t, because that would be too obvious. Instead, you threw him a sharp glare and marched past him—only for him to fall into step beside you like he belonged there.

“You gonna carry my bag to class tomorrow?” he asked, eyes twinkling.

“Go to hell.”

“I thought we were already there. Seoul U, midterm season, and you owe me coffee for a week? Sounds like hell to me.”

You hated him. You should’ve hated him.

But you didn’t miss the way he was biting back a smile, or how he didn’t actually push it any further. Didn’t gloat. Just walked beside you, shoulder brushing yours every few steps like he’d forgotten you were supposed to be rivals.

God, you were so screwed.

You found Heeseung outside the library, hunched over his phone with earbuds in, tapping at his screen like the world was on fire. He looked up when you called his name, one brow raised as you approached.

“Hey,” you said, clutching the strap of your bag a little tighter. “Can we talk?”

Heeseung pulled out an earbud, eyes narrowing slightly. “What’s up?”

You hesitated. You didn’t want to start anything, but this was already eating away at you. The more time you spent with Jay—forced time, of course—the more those stories didn’t line up. He wasn’t half as bad as everyone made him out to be. In fact… he was kind of the opposite.

“Are you sure Jay’s really that bad?” you asked, quietly.

Heeseung straightened, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to react too fast. “Seriously?”

You nodded. “I just—Jake told me he felt super bad about the whole bet thing. Like he didn’t even go through with it. And the thing with your girlfriend? He said she kissed him. Not the other way around.”

Heeseung’s eyes darkened. “Yeah, well, of course Jake would say that. They’re best friends.”

“I’m just saying,” you pressed, “what if it wasn’t how you remember it? Maybe Jay’s not—”

“Don’t,” he cut you off, tone sharper than usual. “Don’t let him get to you, Y/N.”

You blinked.

He scoffed, standing and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Guys like him? They’re good at making people feel like they’re the victim. That’s how they work. He’ll play sweet, act like he’s changed, make you question everyone else—and then the second you trust him, he’ll flip it.”

“He hasn’t done anything to me.”

“Yet.” Heeseung’s eyes locked onto yours, voice low. “Just be careful. You don’t know him like I do.”

You swallowed hard, nodding slowly, but something inside you twisted at the way he said it. Like you weren’t allowed to find things out for yourself. Like he had to be right.

But… the thing was?

A part of you wasn’t so sure anymore.

The next day was actual hell.

You should’ve known Jay would milk the “servant” thing for everything it was worth—but still, nothing could’ve prepared you for how absolutely insufferable he was about it.

“Y/N, can you carry my bag?”

“Y/N, I’m thirsty. You know my order.”

“Y/N, I dropped my pen—oh, oops. Guess you better pick it up.”

It was like every five minutes he found a new way to get under your skin. And the worst part? He didn’t even need the help. You were ninety-nine percent sure he only asked just to see how long it would take for you to snap.

By day four, you were a ticking time bomb.

You were both walking down the hallway after study group, and Jay had just asked you—again—to grab his charger from the common room because he “forgot it,” even though it was very clearly hanging out of his bag.

You whipped around to face him, nearly knocking into his chest. “Do you enjoy watching me slowly lose my mind? Is that it? Is this fun for you?”

Jay blinked at you, clearly trying not to laugh. “Kind of.”

“Unbelievable,” you huffed, arms flailing a little as the rant bubbled up. “I’m starting to think you only won on purpose just to torture me—like some twisted revenge arc. What kind of narcissist actually makes someone fetch their charger—”

And then he kissed you.

Mid-rant. Mid-gesture. Mid-sentence.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was bold and sudden and shut you up instantly, your breath caught between the syllable you were about to say and the warmth of his mouth on yours.

You froze, hands still hovering stupidly in the air.

Jay pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips, “God, you talk so much.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed, cheeks flushed.

And he just stood there—completely unaffected—like kissing you in the middle of a hallway was totally normal. Like your heart wasn’t pounding loud enough to drown out every rational thought.

“You—” You opened your mouth.

Jay grinned. “Still talking.”

You almost shoved him.

Almost.

Sunghoon wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. He never was.

But he had a way of being in the right place at the right time, or maybe the wrong place, depending on how you looked at it. And when he turned the corner of the hallway that afternoon, a quiet observer like always, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you—mouth still pressed to Jay’s, your fingers curled in surprise around the strap of your bag.

He blinked once. Then twice.

Then, without a word, he turned and walked the other way.

Fifteen minutes later, he found his girlfriend standing outside the campus café, talking animatedly to her friend Stella about nail polish or hair gloss or something equally detailed. They barely noticed him until he slipped in beside them, calm as ever.

“Y/N and Jay kissed,” he said, like he was stating the weather.

Both girls gasped so loud half the quad probably heard.

His girlfriend whipped around to face him, eyes wide. “What?! Since when were you into gossip?”

He just shrugged, gaze flickering toward the library. “I saw it. Just now.”

Stella smacked his girlfriend’s arm. “Didn’t you say she hated him?”

“I did,” she breathed, already pulling out her phone like it would give her the rest of the story. “What the hell—?”

But Sunghoon leaned forward, kissed her cheek gently, and started walking away.

“Wait—where are you going?” she called after him.

“Library,” he said over his shoulder.

Because of course he was. Of course Sunghoon dropped a bomb and just casually strolled off to study like he hadn’t just flipped your entire social circle upside down.

Sunghoon was already at his usual study spot in the library when you arrived, clutching your bag a little too tightly as you scanned the rows of bookshelves like you were on some sort of secret mission.

He raised an eyebrow as you walked in, obviously distracted, your eyes darting around the room. You were definitely not here to study. The fact that you had only been in the library for a few seconds and your gaze had already flitted past the tables where students were hard at work said it all.

You weren’t here for Heeseung. Not at all.

Sunghoon didn’t miss a beat. He leaned back in his chair, watching you for a second, before sliding his glasses down his nose slightly and giving you a small smirk. “Hey, Y/N. What’s up?”

You jolted slightly, surprised to see him so casually lounging there. You shot him an awkward smile and then immediately tried to cover it up with a defensive shrug. “Oh, nothing. I’m just… uh, here to give Heeseung something,” you said, voice a little too high-pitched, almost like you were trying to convince yourself of your own words.

Sunghoon didn’t look convinced. He tilted his head slightly, studying you with a small, knowing smile. “Are you sure you’re here for Heeseung?”

Your heart skipped. “Yeah, of course,” you said too quickly, glancing nervously around the library again. “I mean, I just… I need to give him this thing and—”

“You sure?” Sunghoon interrupted, pushing his chair back just a little, his tone shifting slightly to something almost teasing. He didn’t buy it. “Because Jay’s in the cafeteria. Right now. Just thought you’d want to know.”

You froze. For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped. Your eyes widened before you quickly looked away, trying to hide the obvious flustered blush creeping up your neck. “I—” You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to straighten up. “I wasn’t looking for him,” you muttered, biting your lip.

Sunghoon didn’t say much after that, just shrugged casually and hummed a little tune under his breath as he pushed his chair back and stood up. His expression was unreadable, his quiet demeanor leaving you with an uneasy feeling in your stomach. Without another word, he simply smiled, offering a half-hearted wave as he walked past you.

You watched him go, unsure of what to make of the interaction. It was classic Sunghoon—quiet, observant, and always somehow getting under your skin without even trying.

You couldn’t stand how he could so easily see through you.

With a frustrated sigh, you picked up your bag and made your way out of the library, heading toward the cafeteria where you knew Jay would be. Even though your heart was pounding and your mind was spinning with confusion, you couldn’t stop yourself. You had to see him.

The thought of Heeseung’s warning echoed in your mind, but you pushed it aside. Sunghoon was right about one thing—things were already chaotic. Maybe this was the only way to make sense of it all.

You tried to calm your nerves as you walked to the cafeteria, but the closer you got, the harder it became to shake the doubt gnawing at you. Would you find the answers you were looking for, or would this just be another mess to clean up later?

When you stepped into the cafeteria, the noise hit you immediately—students chatting, trays clattering, the low hum of conversation filling the air. But despite all the noise, your eyes immediately zeroed in on Jay, sitting at one of the tables by the window, his usual carefree smile on his face as he joked around with his friends.

Your stomach flipped.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you were both relieved and anxious at the same time. He looked just as he always did—easygoing, confident, and annoyingly charming. The problem was, now you knew him differently. The things you’d heard, the things you’d seen—it was hard to look at him the same way.

You took a deep breath and walked towards him, trying to shake off the tension in your shoulders. As you got closer, you saw Jay’s head turn just as he noticed you.

His eyes lit up when he saw you, and despite the complicated mess you two had become, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth at the sight of him. He gave you a lazy grin, pushing his chair back and standing up in one smooth motion.

“Y/N,” he greeted, his voice low and smooth, like he wasn’t the least bit phased by the tension hanging between you two. “What’s up?”

You barely kept your expression neutral. “I need to talk to you.”

Jay raised an eyebrow, glancing at the empty seat across from him, then back at you. “Come on, sit down. You don’t look like you’re here to discuss world peace. I’m guessing you’re looking for something else.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. It felt weird being this close to him again, feeling the electricity between you like it was the first time you’d ever been in his orbit. Everything about this felt wrong. But you had to do it.

Sitting down, you met his gaze directly. “I’m not here to cause any more trouble. I just… need to know what’s going on between us.”

Jay tilted his head, his easygoing expression faltering slightly. He leaned forward, one arm on the table as if he was genuinely interested. “What do you mean? Between us?” His voice softened, and for a second, you could see the shift in him. It was subtle, but it was there.

You clenched your hands together on the table, trying to steady yourself. “You know what I mean, Jay. All of this—the bet, the confusion… what’s real and what’s not?”

Jay leaned back in his chair, the carefree smile from earlier slipping away, replaced by something more serious. “You still don’t trust me, huh?”

You swallowed, the words catching in your throat. “It’s not that. It’s just… I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

He was quiet for a long moment, his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that made your breath catch. When he finally spoke, his tone was different—he was no longer the cocky guy you used to know, but someone who seemed oddly vulnerable.

“Look,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I get it. Everything I did, everything I said—it was wrong. But I’m not that guy anymore, Y/N. I’ve changed. I care about you. I don’t want to mess this up.”

Your heart raced in your chest. You wanted to believe him. You really did. But the part of you that was still holding on to the past, to the version of Jay that Heeseung had painted, kept pushing those thoughts aside.

“I don’t know, Jay. It’s just… hard. You and I? We don’t mix well,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jay’s expression flickered. “I’m not asking for things to be perfect. I just want a chance, Y/N. A real one.”

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air between you, and for a split second, it felt like you were both on the same page—like everything that had happened before didn’t matter. But then, like a flash of lightning, the reminder of everything that had happened came rushing back.

You shook your head, pulling yourself back. “I can’t just forget all of it, Jay. It’s not that simple.”

Jay leaned in closer, his gaze intense. “I’m not asking you to forget. Just… don’t hold me to who I was.”

Your chest tightened. You were torn between everything you wanted and everything you feared.

“I’m still figuring it out,” you admitted, the vulnerability in your voice surprising even yourself. “But I’m not sure I’m ready for this… whatever this is.”

Jay didn’t respond right away. He just nodded slowly, like he understood, but there was a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. “I get it. But I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. When you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

You wanted to say more, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you just stood up, trying to make your voice steady again.

“I’ll… think about it,” you said, but your tone didn’t sound as sure as you wanted it to. You didn’t know if you were ready for this, but you couldn’t just walk away.

Jay gave you one last look, his smile returning, though it was softer this time. “Take your time.”

As you walked away, your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. What did this all mean? What would Heeseung say? Would Jay really change, or was this just another game to him? You didn’t have the answers. Not yet. But for the first time in a long time, you weren’t sure who you were supposed to be angry at anymore.

The days that followed were a whirlwind. You and Jay decided to keep things under wraps—something about the secrecy added a layer of excitement, even though it made everything feel a little more complicated. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell Heeseung, not yet. The thought of his reaction made your stomach twist in knots. But with Jay, it was easy. Easier than you expected. He was surprisingly attentive when you needed him to be, remembering little details about you that Heeseung and others had long forgotten.

Jay was still Jay, cocky and smooth-talking, but there were moments where he’d let his guard down. The way he’d walk you to class, his hand brushing against yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The way he’d drop a joke here and there, making you laugh when you needed it most. You never thought you’d say it, but Jay wasn’t the player you thought he was—well, not all the time anyway.

Of course, he was still a bit of a show-off. You could never really take him seriously when he’d lean against the doorframe of your dorm, smirking, saying things like, “You know, I’m way too good-looking to be keeping this a secret.”

You would roll your eyes, trying to suppress your grin. “Yeah, you’re such a mystery.”

He’d chuckle, that cocky smirk still glued to his face. “I know, I know. You’re welcome.”

But underneath the bravado, he was kind, listening to you vent about your day, cracking jokes just to make you smile. For the first time, you felt like maybe this whole secret thing wasn’t so bad. But that didn’t mean you didn’t have doubts. It was all so new, and despite everything, there was still a little voice in the back of your mind reminding you of how messy things could get.

You weren’t the only one who had doubts, though. Your first real step in sharing this secret came one night when you were sitting in your dorm room, staring at your phone. Sunoo, always seemed to know everything before anyone else, had been eyeing you strangely all week. He’d been quiet, his teasing always bordering on serious.

“Sunoo,” you started, hesitating as he sprawled out on your bed, scrolling through his phone, “I need to tell you something.”

His head snapped up immediately. “Oh?” He raised a brow. “Spill.”

You took a deep breath. “I’m… I’m seeing someone. But it’s secret. And I know it’s weird because—” you paused, running a hand through your hair. “It’s Jay.”

The look on Sunoo’s face was one you’d never seen before. His eyes went wide, his mouth falling open as he blinked rapidly. For a second, he just stared at you, completely silent. Then, as if he couldn’t contain himself any longer, he exploded.

“What?!” he half-yelled, half-laughed, scrambling off your bed and pacing around the room in disbelief. “Hold up, hold up. You’re dating Jay? Jay. The same Jay who—”

“Sunoo, please—” you interrupted, raising a hand to stop him from getting too carried away.

“—the same Jay who practically ruined Heeseung’s life?” He flung his hands up in the air dramatically. “The one you’ve been bashing to me for weeks? And now you’re secretly dating him?”

You sighed, running a hand down your face. “Yes. But it’s not like that, okay? I know what you’re thinking, but things are… different with him. He’s not like he used to be. It’s just—complicated.”

Sunoo was still pacing, clearly trying to wrap his head around it. “Complicated? This is beyond complicated, Y/N! Do you know how much drama this is going to cause? Heeseung is gonna flip. I’m not even talking about how Jay’s gonna react when he finds out that you were hiding this from him. You’re already tangled up in all of this and now you’re—oh my god, why is everything in your life like this?”

You slumped back into your chair, feeling the weight of your decision. “I don’t want to deal with drama. But I like him, Sunoo. And I think he likes me, too. And… honestly, I don’t care what people think. I just wanted to tell you because I can’t keep this to myself anymore.”

Sunoo stopped pacing and stared at you with an intensity that made you shift in your seat. “You really like him, huh?”

You nodded, trying to hold his gaze. “Yeah. It’s… it’s stupid, but I do.”

There was a long pause. Sunoo looked like he was about to explode again, but then he let out a slow breath, sitting down beside you. “Okay. Fine. I’ll let it slide. But seriously—if you get caught, I’m not helping you out of this mess. You’re on your own.” He raised a finger and wagged it at you. “And I’m keeping my distance from all of this. I didn’t sign up for this chaos, alright?”

You chuckled, relieved by the fact that Sunoo wasn’t completely flipping out. “Thanks, Sunoo. I appreciate it. I promise I’ll figure this out.”

He leaned back against the bed with a dramatic sigh. “You’re lucky I’m your best friend. If anyone else tried to pull this, I’d roast them for the rest of their life.”

“Well, I’m lucky to have you, then,” you said with a grin.

Sunoo shot you a look of mock disbelief. “Just promise me one thing,” he said, raising a brow. “If Heeseung finds out and loses his mind, I’m not helping you clean up the mess. You’re on your own with that one.”

You laughed, feeling the stress of it all lighten a little. “Deal.”

Sunoo was known for two things: his impeccable gossip radar and his inability to keep a secret for more than 24 hours. And, of course, the fact that he loved to stir the pot. As soon as you had finished telling him about you and Jay, Sunoo’s mind started racing. He was already formulating what he would tell Heeseung the moment he saw him. He wasn’t going to be able to keep this juicy tidbit to himself, no matter how much you trusted him to stay quiet.

The next day, Heeseung was sitting in the courtyard, casually talking to some friends, but Sunoo could see it—the slightest shift in Heeseung’s posture when he noticed him coming. Heeseung raised an eyebrow as Sunoo approached, a mischievous grin forming on his face.

“You’re looking like you’ve got something to spill, Sunoo,” Heeseung said, his voice light but clearly curious.

Sunoo couldn’t help himself. He sat down next to Heeseung, his eyes practically gleaming with the excitement of what he was about to drop.

“You wouldn’t believe it, man,” Sunoo started, looking around as if to make sure no one else was listening in. “You know how you’ve been all worried about Y/N and Jay, right?”

Heeseung’s expression darkened, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What about them?”

Sunoo leaned in, lowering his voice as if he were telling a state secret. “Well, turns out… they’ve been secretly dating. For, like, a while now.”

Heeseung froze for a second, the weight of Sunoo’s words sinking in. His jaw clenched, and he quickly glanced around, as if making sure no one had overheard the conversation.

“Wait, what?” Heeseung’s voice was quieter, almost a whisper, as if he couldn’t believe it. “How do you know?”

Sunoo, unable to hold back the excitement bubbling inside him, leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms, like he was watching a drama unfold. “I’ve got my sources,” he said, winking. “And it’s not just a rumor, Heeseung. They’re actually seeing each other. Y/N told me everything.”

Heeseung stared at him for a moment, his expression unreadable, but it was clear the news hit him like a punch to the gut. His face twisted in a mix of disbelief and frustration,and for a moment, it seemed like he might say something, but he stopped himself.

“Y/N would never—” Heeseung started, his voice shaking with a mix of anger and hurt.

“Oh, she would,” Sunoo cut in, nonchalantly. “She’s just keeping it under wraps, like some big secret. But honestly, it makes sense, right? All that tension, all that back and forth between them, it was bound to happen.”

Heeseung stood up abruptly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered, more to himself than to Sunoo. “After everything, she goes behind my back like this?”

Sunoo could feel the anger radiating off Heeseung, and it made him feel a little guilty, but not enough to hold his tongue. “Yeah, it’s a mess, isn’t it? I mean, she’s been going on about how much she hates Jay, but clearly, something changed. Who knows? Maybe it was all that tension, or maybe she just got tired of waiting around. But whatever the case, it’s real. And if you ask me, I think you should be a little more worried about what’s coming next.”

Heeseung looked like he was about to explode. His fists clenched at his sides, and his face was flushed with a mix of confusion and rage. “I—I have to talk to her,” he said, his voice raw.

Sunoo shrugged, not caring that Heeseung was clearly on the verge of losing his cool. “I’m just saying, you might want to figure things out with her before she starts making it official with Jay. Things are already messy enough.”

As Sunoo stood up to leave, he turned to give Heeseung one last look. “You know where to find me if you need more tea,” he teased, before walking away, leaving Heeseung standing there, seething with emotions that were rapidly spiraling out of control.

Sunoo had done his part. Now, it was Heeseung’s turn to deal with the consequences. But something told him this was only the beginning.

You didn’t have to guess who was at the door. The feeling in your stomach told you everything you needed to know. Heeseung.

You stood frozen for a moment before you opened the door slowly, trying to act casual, though the nervous energy in your body betrayed you. There he was, standing at your door, his expression tight with something that looked like anger—and disappointment.

Heeseung glanced at you, then around your room, like he was trying to piece everything together. “What’s going on, Y/N?” His voice was strained, the usual warmth gone. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? Why didn’t you tell me about Jay?”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. You weren’t sure how to answer. You could feel the weight of everything pressing down on you. The truth? Would he even believe you if you told him everything? Or would he just think it was another betrayal?

“Heeseung, I—” You began, but he cut you off, his voice sharp.

“Why, Y/N?” His voice cracked through the tension. “Why did you have to keep this a secret? Why with Jay? After everything?”

You could feel the guilt tearing at you, but you didn’t know what to say. The words were tangled up in your chest, but you knew you couldn’t hold back anymore. “I never meant to hurt you,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You stepped back, leaning against your desk. “But… I don’t know. Things just happened with Jay, and I didn’t know how to handle it. You and I… we’ve always been so complicated, Heeseung. I never wanted to hurt you, I swear. But Jay and I… we’ve been spending time together. It just happened.”

Heeseung’s face hardened, his eyes narrowing at you. “So that’s it, then? You’ve been sneaking around behind my back with him?”

“No, that’s not it at all,” you snapped, finally feeling the frustration bubble to the surface. “I wasn’t sneaking around with anyone. It just… happened, Heeseung. We’ve both been playing these games for so long. And you—” You stopped yourself, realizing you were about to say something you might regret. “And you, you were always going back to her, your girlfriend, every time you fought with her. It was always me picking up the pieces for you. But no matter how much I helped, nothing changed. So… I stopped waiting.”

Heeseung’s face flickered with hurt, but it quickly morphed back into anger. “So you think I’m the one to blame here? You think I made you do this?”

Your voice cracked as you spoke, the frustration you’d been holding onto for so long finally breaking free. “I didn’t say that. But I’m tired, Heeseung. I’m tired of always being the one who’s there when you need someone to pick up the pieces. And I’m tired of holding onto something that’s not there anymore.”

Heeseung didn’t say anything for a long moment. He just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to say to you right now, Y/N.” His voice was low, almost defeated. “You know… I don’t even know if I can forgive you for this. Not right now.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. Your heart sank as you blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears. “I don’t need your forgiveness, Heeseung. I’m just trying to do what’s best for me, for once.”

Silence fell between the two of you, thick and suffocating. You wanted to say something, anything to fix it, but you knew deep down that there was nothing you could do. Heeseung turned to leave, but then stopped, his back still to you.

“Do me a favor,” he said, his voice soft, barely audible. “Don’t do something you’ll regret, Y/N. You don’t have to do this. You’ve been so important to me for so long. Please… don’t lose yourself in all of this.”

You stood there, unable to respond. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do. You were already losing yourself, weren’t you? But maybe I’ve already lost him, you thought as you watched him walk away.

The door clicked shut behind him, but the echo of his words rang louder than anything else. You stood there in your room, motionless, heart racing and chest tight like it was wrapped in barbed wire. You hated how he still had that power over you—how a few words, a stare, and the sound of your name in his voice could unravel everything you’d built for yourself.

He was wrong, wasn’t he?

You weren’t losing yourself. You were just… figuring things out. You weren’t the same girl who used to drop everything the second he called. You weren’t the one patching him up anymore after every fight with his girlfriend. You were your own person now. Someone who laughed too loud at Jay’s dumb jokes. Someone who liked the way he challenged you. Who liked the way he looked at you like you were the only one in the room, even when you were surrounded by people.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t feel like shit.

You paced your room, emotions swirling inside you like a storm you couldn’t control. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. You weren’t supposed to feel this confused. Jay made things easy, simple. You bickered, you competed, you flirted, and—somewhere in between—you found something that felt a lot like peace. Even if it was messy. Even if it was sudden. But Heeseung’s words… they lingered like a bruise under your skin.

Don’t do something you’ll regret.

God. Heeseung always made things feel heavier than they had to be.

You collapsed onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling, and after a long moment, you grabbed your phone. Your fingers hovered over Jay’s name. You were supposed to call him tonight. To talk about this. To maybe make it official, if you were both ready.

But suddenly, you didn’t know if you were.

Not because of Heeseung. Not just because of him.

But because you didn’t trust yourself not to break the same way again. To fall into old habits. To blur the lines between right and wrong. You’d spent so long being someone else’s lifeline, you weren’t sure how to be your own.

Still, your thumb pressed down, and the phone started ringing.

If there was one thing you did know—it was this: whether it ended in a smile or a disaster, you were too far in to back out now.

Jay picked up on the third ring.

“Hey,” he said, voice soft, almost hesitant. Like he could sense the storm brewing behind your silence.

You swallowed. “Hi.”

There was a pause—long enough for you to hear the faint music in the background on his end. Then, “You okay?”

You almost laughed. Was that a question anymore?

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, curling your fingers into your bedsheets. “Heeseung knows. Sunoo told him.”

Jay sighed, like he already expected that. “Yeah. I figured.”

That made you sit up. “You did?”

“I mean,” he murmured, “I didn’t think Sunoo would keep it to himself for long. He kind of looked like he was gonna explode when you told him. I saw him bolt across campus like he was on a mission.”

You let out a breathy laugh, the edge of panic softening just a little. “God, I should’ve known.”

“Hey,” Jay said gently, “are you okay? Like really okay?”

You hesitated. “Heeseung said I’m losing myself.”

Jay didn’t say anything at first. Then his voice came, steady and careful: “Do you think you are?”

You looked down at your lap, tracing a pattern over your comforter with your nail. “I don’t know. Maybe. I just… I feel like I’ve always been someone to someone. Heeseung’s best friend. The girl who fights Jay in every class. The toxic ex. The girl who makes reckless decisions and kisses people to shut them up.”

Jay let out a quiet, amused breath at that one.

You went on, “I don’t know how to just… be. Without people talking. Without feeling like I owe someone something. Even you. I keep thinking—maybe I don’t deserve to want this.”

There was silence again. Then Jay said, “You do.”

Your heart caught.

“I know you think I’m still that guy from a year ago,” he continued. “The guy who played stupid games and made stupid bets. And maybe part of me still is. But the part of me that matters now? The part that looks at you and wants more than some stupid competition? That part’s real. And it’s yours, if you want it.”

Your throat felt thick.

“I want it,” you whispered.

He didn’t answer right away. But then he said, “Then screw what Heeseung says. Screw the rumors. Screw everything that came before. Let’s make our own version of this.”

You smiled faintly, tears pricking your eyes for no good reason.

“Okay,” you whispered.

“Okay,” he echoed.

And for once, it felt like the world might finally let you breathe.

Heeseung sat slouched on the campus lawn, fingers tugging idly at the blades of grass beneath him, lips pressed into a thin line as his girlfriend rubbed slow circles into his back. Jake and his girlfriend were sprawled out nearby, half-listening, half-whispering to each other in the shade.

“I just—don’t know, babe,” Heeseung muttered finally, eyes locked on nothing in particular. “He’s supposed to be my best friend.”

Jake’s girlfriend sighed, straightening up. “And he still is, Heeseung. You’re just being stubborn.”

He rolled his eyes and leaned back on his hands, scoffing. “So now I’m the bad guy for not being thrilled that my so-called best friend is sneaking around with her?”

Jake’s girlfriend exchanged a look with Heeseung’s. “It’s not like they planned it to hurt you. You said it yourself—YN never even liked him. And now she does. What, she’s not allowed to fall for someone unless you approve?”

Heeseung didn’t answer, jaw tightening.

His girlfriend turned to him, her voice softer. “I’m serious, Hee. Jay’s not perfect, but he’s always been there for you. You’re being an idiot if you can’t see how much this means to them. Especially YN. She’s finally… happy. Can’t you just show up for her the way she always showed up for you?”

Heeseung’s eyes flickered up to meet hers, conflicted and clouded.

Then she added, “Also… for the record? I kissed Jay. Not the other way around.”

Heeseung’s head snapped toward her. “Wait, what?”

She nodded, expression calm. “You’ve been holding a grudge over something you only knew half the story of. I kissed him. He was surprised. And yeah, fine, he kissed me back the second time. But we weren’t dating the first time it happened—you just never wanted to believe that.”

Heeseung’s brows furrowed. “And the second time?”

“That one was on both of us,” she admitted, leaning back. “We were technically together, sure. But you wanna talk about betrayal? Don’t forget you kissed Ina.”

The silence that followed was thick. Jake’s girlfriend blinked. Heeseung’s shoulders tensed.

“Okay,” he muttered after a beat. “Low blow.”

“Is it?” a familiar voice chimed in as you approached the group, arms crossed and a raised brow. “Because if I remember correctly, that was while we were still close. And Ina was my best friend.”

Heeseung shifted uncomfortably, eyes flickering toward you.

You smiled, tight and sharp. “But hey, let’s keep talking about betrayal.”

He didn’t have a comeback. And for once, neither did you.

The silence this time was yours.

You were leaning into Jay’s shoulder, fingers tangled with his under the table while the two of you quietly scrolled through your phones, pretending not to notice the tension that still lingered in the air after the whole fallout. Things had gotten messy—too messy—but somehow, here you were. Still side by side.

You almost didn’t notice Heeseung walk up until a familiar paper cup was set down in front of you with a gentle thud. You looked up, brows furrowed, ready to snap at whoever was interrupting—until your gaze landed on him.

Heeseung stood there, holding out another cup toward Jay.

“Regular milk tea. No boba. Less ice,” he said, almost grumbling it, eyes flicking away like the words tasted sour in his mouth. “Still your favorite?”

Jay blinked, clearly caught off guard. He didn’t move to take it right away. “…Yeah.”

You sat up a little straighter, eyes darting between them as Jay slowly took the drink from Heeseung’s hand. Heeseung scratched the back of his neck and looked everywhere but at the two of you.

“I figured if I was gonna try not being a dick about this, bubble tea was a decent start.”

Jay gave a short laugh, like he didn’t know if he was supposed to be amused or suspicious. “Thanks, man.”

Heeseung just gave a tight nod and finally looked at you—his expression unreadable. You couldn’t tell if he was annoyed, resigned, or genuinely trying. Maybe all three.

You offered a small smile anyway. “Thanks for mine too.”

He didn’t say anything, just gave a shrug like it was no big deal and walked off, hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets.

Jay glanced at you, then back at the drink in his hand. “Didn’t expect that today.”

“Me neither,” you muttered, leaning into him again.

But even as you rested your head against his shoulder, you felt a pang in your chest. Because Heeseung still remembered.

You took a slow sip of your drink, the sweetness of the milk tea doing very little to wash away the bitter taste in your mouth. Your eyes were narrowed, staring at the cup like it had personally wronged you.

“I’m still pissed at Sunoo for telling Heeseung,” you muttered, voice low but sharp.

Jay chuckled beside you, leaning back in his seat. “Come on,” he said, nudging your leg with his. “You know Sunoo can’t keep his mouth shut for more than twenty-four hours.”

“That’s not an excuse,” you snapped, looking at him now. “He promised he wouldn’t say anything. And the second he had the chance to stir the pot, he dumped the whole damn thing.”

Jay shrugged, still smiling a little. “It’s Sunoo. He lives for drama. Honestly, I’m surprised he lasted that long.”

You rolled your eyes, annoyed that Jay was taking this so lightly, but you couldn’t deny he had a point. Sunoo was like a walking group chat—loud, animated, and incapable of holding in a juicy secret. Still, it stung.

“I just wanted to tell Heeseung myself,” you muttered. “I wanted to do it the right way.”

Jay softened, tilting his head. “I know. But maybe… it worked out for the better? He doesn’t look like he’s plotting my murder anymore. That’s gotta mean something.”

You huffed, leaning your head on his shoulder again. “Barely.”

“Hey,” he said, brushing his thumb against your hand, “he brought me milk tea. That’s, like, Heeseung-speak for I’m trying.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Whatever. I’m still mad at Sunoo.”

Jay laughed. “Yeah, well, good luck staying mad. He’ll probably show up at our door with a glitter apology card and a fruit tray in, like, an hour.”

You snorted. “Don’t tempt me. I’ll slam the door in his face.”

“No, you won’t.”

“…Yeah, I won’t.”

A couple of weeks passed, and despite the underlying tension, things had gradually settled into an uneasy but workable rhythm. You and Jay were still keeping things mostly under wraps—well, for the most part. Sunoo had already spilled the beans to Heeseung, though. You knew it was only a matter of time before the rest of the group caught wind of it.

So, after a bit of back and forth, everyone finally agreed to a “peace offering.” Heeseung, Jay, and even Sunghoon (with his usual reserved demeanor) had agreed to meet for a casual garden picnic—something to bridge the gap. The only catch? It was going to be a quadruple date. Your best friends and their girlfriends were invited too, making it a bit of a group outing.

The picnic spot was serene, surrounded by the soft hum of the city just beyond the park. The weather was perfect—bright and sunny with a slight breeze. It felt like the universe was giving everyone a little break from the chaos. You sat next to Jay on the checkered blanket, his hand casually resting on your knee. You both helped set up, keeping your movements natural and easy. But as soon as your eyes met Heeseung’s, you couldn’t shake the awkwardness that lingered in the air. He was sitting next to his girlfriend, shooting occasional glances at Jay. You could tell he was trying to keep it together, but the tension was still there, unspoken and heavy.

“Do you think it’s going to work?” you asked Jay, glancing at Heeseung and Ina from the corner of your eye.

Jay shrugged, not missing a beat. “We’ll see. It’s not like we can change everything in one day.” His voice was quiet but certain. His eyes were warm, though, focused on you as he squeezed your hand gently. “Don’t worry. It’s not a big deal.”

As the others arrived, Jake and his girlfriend came over, immediately cracking jokes and setting up a game of volleyball. Sunghoon and his girlfriend, too, joined in—Sunghoon, as usual, staying relatively silent while his girlfriend bubbled with excitement. She looked at him with a playful smirk, nudging him with her elbow.

“Babe, are you actually going to talk today, or are you just going to sit there being a statue?” she teased.

Sunghoon just shrugged, not bothering to respond. But there was a tiny, amused glint in his eyes. His girlfriend rolled her eyes and turned to you.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Jay? You two are still keeping things hush-hush?” she asked, her voice a little too curious.

You shot her a quick glance, unsure of what to say, but Jay was already speaking up. “What’s the point of making things complicated, right? Sometimes it’s better to keep things simple.”

But the laughter from the others couldn’t entirely hide the tension between Heeseung and Jay. You could feel the unspoken rivalry simmering beneath the surface. Heeseung, ever the protector, was giving Jay an occasional hard stare, especially as Jake cracked more jokes.

“Come on, Heeseung. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” Jake teased, nudging Heeseung’s shoulder. “We’re all just here to relax.”

Heeseung forced a tight smile but didn’t say anything. He took a deep breath and muttered under his breath, “Still don’t like him.”

Jay smirked. “Yeah, I can tell.”

“Awkward,” Sunghoon’s girlfriend chimed in from the other side of the picnic blanket, dramatically glancing between the two boys. “Is this how it’s going to be? You two have known each other for years, but now it’s this… weird?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. “I don’t know why everyone’s pretending this isn’t a little messy. It’s been weird from the start.”

But just as the tension began to settle back into that uncomfortable silence, Sunghoon—silent as ever—tapped his water bottle against the ground, glancing at you with a look that could only be described as amused. “So… when’s the wedding?”

You couldn’t help the blush that spread across your cheeks. “Shut up, Sunghoon.”

He just shrugged. “I’m just saying, if you two are going to be all secretive, you might as well just get married already.”

The laughter that followed made the air feel lighter, and for a moment, it almost felt like things could go back to how they used to be. The group chattered, eating, and playing games. Sunghoon’s quiet but steady presence made you feel like everything would somehow work itself out.

But you couldn’t deny the awkwardness still lingering between Heeseung and Jay. It wasn’t something that could be fixed overnight, and you knew that. Still, there was a small part of you that hoped, maybe hoped, this would be the start of something different—something better.

As the sun dipped lower, the golden light casting long shadows across the grass, Jay leaned closer, his arm resting around your shoulders. You let your head rest on his, the familiar warmth comforting in a way it hadn’t been in a long time.

He whispered, “It’s going to be fine. Just give it time.”

You nodded, grateful that at least for now, things felt right between you two.

It was messy, sure. But it was yours. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to make it work.

The sound of laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the chatter of your friends filled the air, and for once, it didn’t feel like anything was about to fall apart.

Everything was still awkward. But maybe… that was just the start of something new.

enhypen campus series

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dilf-hunter-fantasies · 5 months ago

Text

[900 words of fluff, smut, and breeding kink]

Daydreaming about...

Husband!Joel Miller and the first time it slipped from your lips.

You hadn’t meant for it to happen.

It was a sultry summer evening, the kind where the air still clung to you even after the sun dipped below the horizon. You’d both been a little buzzed, the walk home from the neighborhood block party filled with laughter and teasing touches.

Joel had barely managed to close the front door before his lips were on yours, his hands greedy and warm as they wandered under your sundress.

It had been the kind of night where everything felt heightened—the taste of his tongue against yours, the way his calloused palms felt against your skin, and how his every touch seemed to unravel you. He’d taken you to bed with that intense, unfiltered adoration in his eyes, the kind that always left you weak in the knees.

He was almost too much, murmuring worshipful praises into your ear, and against every inch of your skin. He had that sparkle in his eyes that made you melt. Everything was a pleasant blur, the way your bodies fit together, your giggles as he nearly growled, trying to pull you closer.

The haze of his tender, overwhelming love, was more intoxicating than the warmth of the sun and the last hints of alcohol buzzing in your veins. He was pure devotion, attuned to every part of your body, every thought you might have, and coaxing you into a state of euphoria.

You didn’t even realize you were talking, rambling softly between gasping breaths as he rocked into you, filling you to the brim until your eyes rolled back. But you’d been singing sweet praises right back to him.

“So good,” you whispered. “Just like that, fuck.”

And he did exactly as you said, hitting that perfect angle that had you floating away, lost in the bliss.

And then it happened.

Slipping free, soft and breathy between moans. “Oh, fuck,” your brows scrunching together in that way they always did when you were close. “Cum deep, baby, I need it.” Another moan rolled through you as he thrust his cock so deep it kissed the end of you. “That’s it. I want to carry it inside me, always. Fill me up until it takes, Joel.”

Joel had frozen for a moment, his gaze locking on yours with an intensity that stole your breath. His cock twitched inside of you like he was somehow even harder than he’d ever been. Something primal flickered in his dark eyes, his jaw tightening before he let out a deep, guttural groan.

Whatever switch you’d flipped in him sent him spiraling into something wild, feral. He’d pumped into you like it was his sole purpose, whispering filth and adoration in equal measure, his body relentless against yours until you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. A tangled vine of limbs.

Now, a couple of years into your marriage, that same insatiable energy has returned. But this time it’s real. Tangible. The decision to start trying for a baby had been an exciting one, but you hadn’t anticipated how it would unleash a new, unstoppable side of your husband.

Joel’s been radiating pure, unadulterated want for weeks now. It’s in the way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing that matters in the entire universe. It’s in his hands, which can’t seem to stay off you, whether he’s tugging you into his lap on the couch, pressing against you in the kitchen, or pulling you into the shower under the guise of saving water.

You’re attempting to finish making dinner when you feel him behind you. His strong arms slide around your waist, his chest pressing firmly against your back. His hands find their way to your hips first, then drift upward, cupping your breasts as his thumbs tease over the sensitive peaks through the thin fabric of your shirt.

“Sweetheart,” he drawls, his voice rough and low, sending shivers down your spine. “How am I s’posed to keep my hands off ya when you look like this?”

“Joel,” you protest weakly, though the way your breath catches betrays you. “I’m trying to cook.”

“Don’t care,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Need you, darlin’. Right here, right now.” His hands trail lower, his fingers slipping under the waistband of your leggings, and you’re gone, dinner long forgotten as he husks into your ear about how he’s gotta keep you filled up. Spouting off nonsense like how he can hear your pussy beggin’ for him, how she’s feelin’ empty and needs him too.

And somehow, no matter how filthy and feral he gets for you, it’s endearing. Wrapped in love and yearning for the idea of a family. Of more to love.

The rest of your days—and nights—follow the same pattern.

You find yourself pinned against the kitchen counter, bent over the couch, tangled in the sheets. He’s unstoppable, each touch, kiss, and thrust carrying a purpose that leaves you trembling and breathless.

Even at work, he’s insatiable. A quick trip to his job site to drop off his lunch turns into a heated, stolen moment in the back of your car. His kisses are ravenous, his hands rough but loving as he pulls you into his lap, his gruff voice murmuring, “Can’t wait, baby. Need you now.”

Every touch feels like a vow, every whispered word a promise. Joel loves you with his whole being, and now, with the thought of building a family together, that love has taken on an obsessive edge that leaves you dizzy and utterly devoted to him.

Late one night, as you lie together in the afterglow, his hand splayed possessively over your lower belly, he looks at you with those hearts in his eyes.

“This time,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. “I feel it.”

And you believe him.

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throttleheart · 3 months ago

Text

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

The Cold Night

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: <1k

Summary: Sharing warmth with Lando, in unique ways.

⸻

The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional sound of Lando’s restless shifting beside you. You were warm, snug under the thick covers, blissfully unaware of the slight chill in the room. It was the kind of night that made you want to melt into the sheets and forget the world outside.

But apparently, Lando wasn’t feeling quite as comfortable. You could hear him grumbling softly, a low murmur that grew louder as he shifted again.

“Y/N,” he complained, his voice muffled by the pillow as he half-turned towards you. “It’s freezing in here.”

You blinked lazily, stretching out a little as you tried to sink deeper into the warmth of the blankets, blissfully ignorant of his discomfort. “It’s not cold, Lando. You’re just not sharing the blankets,” you teased, barely opening your eyes.

He groaned in frustration, the sound of him tugging at the sheets making you grin. “I’m going to freeze to death,” he muttered, his voice laced with mock despair. “You know, we could’ve just turned up the heat.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his dramatic tone, but you knew he was right. You had definitely claimed more than your fair share of the covers. The blanket was nearly over your head, leaving him shivering from the cold air.

Turning toward him, you finally gave him your attention, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Oh? You’re cold?” you asked teasingly, propping yourself up on one elbow to look at him.

Lando sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. “I’m freezing, and you’re hogging all the warmth. What kind of partner does that?”

You bit back a smile, looking at him thoughtfully. The situation was admittedly a little funny, but you couldn’t deny the way he was looking at you with those big, pleading eyes. The temptation to tease him further was strong, but you figured it was time to show him a little mercy.

“Well, Lando,” you said with a wicked grin, “since you’re so cold… maybe we can do something about that.”

His brows furrowed, clearly curious but not quite sure where you were going with this. “What are you suggesting?”

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you stretched out beside him, the covers still tangled around you like a cocoon, and extended your hand toward him. He hesitated, eyeing your outstretched fingers as if trying to gauge your intentions. You only smiled, offering him a soft, inviting look. “Take my hand.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, a hint of suspicion in his gaze. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” you said innocently, though there was definitely a glint of mischief in your eyes. “Just trust me.”

After a moment’s pause, he gave in, his fingers intertwining with yours as he let you guide his hand beneath the covers. You both shifted so that you were facing each other, the bed creaking slightly as you moved. Your hearts beat a little faster in the quiet of the room.

The warmth from your body was almost tangible, and as you led his hand lower, you could feel the tension in his fingers as he realized where you were taking him, in between your thighs. He paused for just a second, clearly surprised, but didn’t pull away. Instead, he gave you a teasing, curious smile. “So… this is your solution?”

You chuckled softly. “I mean, you said you were cold. Now, you’re warm, aren’t you?”

Lando’s lips curled into a grin, and he let out a soft laugh, but there was something more in his eyes now—something that told you he wasn’t complaining anymore. “I guess you’ve got a point,” he said, his voice softer than before.

You held his gaze, the playful teasing between you fading into something deeper. You could feel the warmth radiating from him now, not just from the physical touch but from the way his presence seemed to settle over you like a comforting blanket.

There was a shift in the air between you, the earlier banter turning into something more intimate. Lando’s hand lingered between your legs, the connection between you both growing stronger with every beat of your hearts.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low, almost reverent now. “You know, I think I’m going to hold onto the covers from now on.”

You laughed softly, your breath hitching just slightly as you met his gaze. “Deal,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around him to pull him closer.

Lando didn’t hesitate. His arms found their way around you, pulling you into the warmth of his chest as he buried his face in your hair. You could feel his breath against your skin, warm and steady as he held you.

“Next time,” Lando whispered, breaking the silence, his voice full of that familiar mischievous tone, “I’m making sure I get the covers first.”

You smiled, nuzzling into him. “I’ll let you have them,” you murmured, your eyes fluttering shut. “But only if you promise to keep me this warm.”

Lando’s fingers brushed against your back in a soft, reassuring motion. “It’s a deal.”

And with that, you both drifted off into a peaceful sleep, the warmth of each other’s presence more than enough to ward off any lingering chill in the air.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

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vunblr · 3 months ago

Text

Foundations (#8)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+. Slight Angst. Fluff. Neurological Damage. Depiction of Symptoms. (Bucky). Smut.

Summary: Bucky is doing his best to build a stable life for his newfound son, rescued from the guts of a Hydra facility. As he struggles with unexpected fatherhood and his own circumstances, he meets someone who slowly becomes part of their lives, establishing a connection he never saw coming.

Word Count: 7.4.k.

note: And we have reached the end. Thank you so much for reading, commenting, and accompanying me through the story.

Previous chapter

Her mouth went dry.

His body was a masterpiece of muscle and scar tissue, broad shoulders tapering down to a defined waist, and taut skin covering a sculpted chest. The light caught on the hard lines of his abdomen, and the faint trail of hair leading below the waistband of his sweats.

But it was the contrast that stole her breath.

The way flesh met metal at his shoulder, how his arm caught the light of the room, gleaming with every slight movement. The way his muscles flexed and tensed as he rolled his neck, adjusting to the loss of fabric. He was solid, real, and beautiful in a way that was both raw and devastating.

And he was looking at her like he could see every thought running wild through her head. Like he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

“I take you like what you see?” he asked, a disarming half-smile tugging at his lips.

She didn’t answer right away. Didn’t need to. Her parted lips, the slow, deliberate drag of her gaze over his body, he saw it all.

But inside, something in him diminished the way she was looking at him.

He wasn’t the cocky bastard who knew the effect he had on a dame, who could throw a wink and have a girl melting in his hands.

He was… this. The patchwork of scars, the jagged edges of skin fused back together, the gleaming vibranium where flesh used to be. Someone once told him he had body dysmorphia or something like that. He didn’t know. Didn’t care. As a man of his time, he only believed in what he could see, and the image the mirror returned to him every day wasn't exactly the one of a charmer.

But, right now, she was looking at him like he was something worth wanting. Patchwork or not, she had chosen him.

He crawled up her on the bed and her nightdress bunched up around her thighs as his hands roamed, rough and warm against her skin. He groaned softly, gripping the fabric, trailing upward with deliberate slowness.

“You got no idea how long I’ve been wanting this,” he muttered, voice thick with hunger.

She swallowed hard, as he pushed the nightdress higher. His fingers brushed along her sides, tracing her waist before sliding up, skimming just beneath the fabric.

He gave her a look, one last moment for her to stop him. She didn’t.

Instead, she lifted her hips, arching her back to help him pull it off completely. The gown slipped over her head and onto the floor, forgotten.

Bucky bit his lip slightly at the sight of her naked body, waiting beneath him in just a pair of panties.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, settling his hands on her thighs.

The cool air of the room pebbled her nipples, drawing his piercing gaze like a magnet. She could feel the heat of his stare, almost tangible and her thighs trembled slightly under his large, calloused hands as they kneaded the soft flesh. She parted them instinctively, inviting him closer, silently begging for more. The damp patch on her underwear darkened as the slick flooded her pussy.

He leaned down, ghosting his lips along the column of her throat, feeling her pulse jump beneath his mouth. One hand slid up her side to cup her breast, thumbing the stiff peak of her nipple. “Look at you, he growled appreciatively, so fucking beautiful like this. All spread out for me.”

His other hand dipped between her thighs, grazing over the damp lace covering her sex. He could feel the heat, and smell her arousal. It made his cock throb insistently against the confines of his sweatpants.

Bucky nipped at her earlobe, fanning his hot breath across her skin as he whispered huskily, “Tell me what you want, doll.”

She could feel herself growing slicker by the second, the damp lace clinging obscenely to her folds. She finally found her voice. "Please, Bucky," she whimpered, "I want your hands on me. Y-your mouth. I want you inside me." Emboldened by desire, she reached out to palm his cock, straining against his pants. She could feel him, so big and hard already, and it made her clench with anticipation. She bit her lip and rubbed intently his neglected tent.

He hissed, and his hips jerked involuntarily into her hand. He cursed and grabbed her wrist, stopping her movements with a firm grip. “Not yet. Wanna taste you, sweetheart, I'm fucking drunk with the scent of that sweet pussy of yours” His Brooklyn accent rolled out, thick with desire. “Spend all my mission’s nights remembering it, recalling how close I was to dip my fingers inside your underwear on that fucking couch and then pull ‘em off and suck them dry.”

She felt the heat invade her face. It was the first time she had heard him talk dirty like that… and she liked it. A lot. So she nodded, shyly.

He groaned, releasing her wrist only to grab her hips with both hands, yanking her to the edge of the bed. He kneeled between her thighs, and hooked his fingers in her soaked panties, dragging them down her legs, and carelessly tossing them aside. Then, he pushed her thighs further apart to expose her to his hungry gaze. “Spread wider for me, doll. Wanna see all of you. Wanna see what’s mine.” His accent thickened again with arousal as he spread her further.

Without more preamble he leaned in, dragging the flat of his tongue through her slick folds in one slow, savoring lick. She moaned, tangling her fingers in his hair. “Shh don’t wanna wake up Thomas, don’t ya?” Bucky growled against her thigh before diving back in, sealing his lips around her clit and suckling hard.

She bit her hand, muffling her reaction as Bucky's tongue worked on her sensitive flesh. Her thighs quaked on either side of his head as he fucked her with his tongue to then suckle on her swollen bundle of nerves again. “Oh god, Bucky!” she gasped out in a harsh whisper, grinding herself shamelessly against his face. “Don't stop!” Her nails raked down his scalp, urging him on. She could feel herself hurtling towards the edge embarrassingly fast, a result of weeks of pent-up tension and dirty fantasies starring this very scenario.

He growled against her slick heat, and the vibrations sent shockwaves of pleasure through her pussy. He doubled his efforts, delving his tongue deep to lap at her inner walls before flicking rapidly over her clit. His hands gripped her ass, spreading her wider, holding her open for his oral assault.

“That's it darlin’, let go for me”, he urged, muffled and rough. “Wanna taste that sweet cream.” He sealed his lips around her clit once more, sucking hard as he thrust two fingers knuckle-deep inside her. Curling them just right, he found the spot inside her that made her mewl, as he flicked his tongue rapidly over her sensitive bud.

Bucky could feel her trembling, hear the desperate little sounds she tried to stifle. He knew she was close, teetering on the brink.

Her entire body tensed, and her back arched off the bed as her orgasm crashed over her body. She had to shove a pillow over her face to muffle her cries of ecstasy, bucking her hips against Bucky's mouth as he relentlessly worked her through it. Her inner muscles clenched rhythmically around his plunging fingers, trying to draw him deeper and she was acutely aware of every point where their bodies touched, the rasp of his stubble against her inner thighs, the firm grip of his hand on her ass, the heat of his breath on her oversensitive flesh, his fingers still inside her.

With a final kiss to her mound, he withdrew his hand and sat back on his heels, drinking in the debauched sight of her sprawled out on the sheets. The evidence of her release glistened on her thighs. “You're fucking gorgeous like this,” Bucky rasped. He brought his coated fingers to his mouth, making a show of licking them clean as his heated gaze locked with hers. “Delicious too.”

She watched through hooded eyes as he cleaned her slick from his fingers, and the erotic sight sent a fresh gush of heat through her body.

When he was done, he moved to straddle her hips. The thick ridge of his erection nestled against her stomach as he loomed over her. His large hands cupped the undersides of her breasts, lifting them slightly as if presenting them to him. He swiped his thumbs over the stiff nipples, teasing them into even tighter buds. He rolled and pinched the sensitive flesh, alternating between light caresses and firmer squeezes, gauging her reactions.

“Like this, doll?” he rumbled as he leaned down and latched his mouth on one aching nipple, alternating between deep pulls and feather-light flicks of his tongue.

Her hands fly to his hair, pulling him closer as she shamelessly rubbed herself against his throbbing cock. “So, so much. But- I want you inside, Bucky.” her whisper was breathy and desperate.

He groaned against her breast, and his hips rocked reflexively into her touch. He let go of her nipple, dragging his lips up to her jaw, then her cheek, nuzzling her as he tried to calm himself against her bare, needy pussy. The friction of her soft body against his aching cock was maddening.

“Wanna take care of you,” he murmured, nearly pleading. “It’s been so long, doll. It’s pathetic, I-” His throat closed, and shame curled in his gut.

He couldn’t look at her.

He wanted this -oh, how he wanted this- but deep down, he was worried at the thought that he was about to fall apart in her arms like some desperate, touch-starved boy. Because that’s what he was, wasn’t he? It had been so fucking long since he’d had anything close to this willingly, and he knew himself. Knew his body. He wasn’t going to last.

His fingers pressed on her breasts, and he exhaled shakily. “I know I’m not gonna last once I’m inside you.” His voice was barely above a whisper now, thick with something raw.

She cradled his stubbled face, brushing her thumbs over the tension on his cheekbones. Gently, insistently, she tilted his head up, forcing him to meet her gaze.

“Look at me.”

He hesitated but obeyed.

Her expression was soft, so damn understanding it made something in his chest ache. No judgment, no pity.

“There’s nothing pathetic here,” she murmured, tracing slow, soothing circles with her thumbs. “You’ve been through so much, carried so many burdens alone, Bucky. But you don’t have to do that with me. I don’t give a damn if you come just now.”

He let out a slow, shuddering breath, pressing his forehead to hers. “You sure about this, doll?”

She smiled, tilting her hips up, teasing him with just the slightest roll against his clothed length. “What do you think?”

That was all he needed.

He pulled back, rising from the bed in one fluid motion, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, and shoving them down in one swift motion. His cock sprang free, thick and aching. He didn’t bother with theatrics, just kicked the fabric aside with one foot, letting it land somewhere near the desk. His focus was entirely on her, sprawled out before him, waiting and wanting.

For a second, he just stood there, looking at her, with his chest rising and falling with deep, controlled breaths. Then, unable to resist any longer, he crawled back onto the bed, settling between her thighs.

She reached for him, sliding her hands over the planes of his chest, feeling the heat of his skin, the flex of muscle beneath. Her fingertips traced the lines of his scars, and when her hands reached his shoulders, she pulled him down, guiding him to hover over her. Their faces were mere inches apart, breaths mingling in the charged space between them.

"I want you," she whispered, "Don't hold back, Bucky. Please."

A ragged groan tore from his throat as he sank into her, inch by inch, the tight, wet heat of her stealing the air from his lungs. His hands gripped the sheets on either side of her head, trembling with restraint as he fought to go slow, to savor the moment.

“Jesus,” he choked out, his forehead dropping to her shoulder. His breath was hot against her skin, ragged as he tried to calm himself. “You feel- fuck.”

Her hands were everywhere, gripping his shoulders, sliding down his back, her nails pressing into his skin as she adjusted to the stretch of his size. She tilted her hips, urging him deeper, and he felt himself unraveling, the restraint slipping like sand through his fingers.

Bucky lifted his head, finding her gaze, pupils blown wide, lips parted as she let out a soft, breathy moan. That sound alone nearly did him in.

"You okay?" he rasped, voice rough with effort.

She nodded, biting her lip, then whispered, "Move, Bucky."

His hips rolled forward, slow at first, savoring every inch of her warmth, and the way her body yielded to him so perfectly. A shudder wracked through his body as he pulled back, only to thrust in again, deeper this time.

Her breath hitched, fingers gripping his back, nails digging in just enough to make him groan. The feeling, the tight drag of her pussy around him, the way she clenched with every movement, it was too good, too much.

"Fuck, doll," he rasped. She let out a soft whimper, wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper.

He tried to pace himself, tried to hold back, but she met him thrust for thrust, and it was intoxicating, overwhelming.

Her lips brushed against his, her breath hot as she whispered, “More.”

“Fuck, darlin’” He groaned, gripping her thighs and yanking her flush against him, and a sharp gasp left her lips as he drove into her with a force that had her back arching off the mattress. His hands dug into her flesh, holding her in place as he set a relentless pace, each thrust deep and demanding than before.

"Fuck," he gritted out, his voice was rough, almost ragged. "You feel too good- too fuckin’ good, doll."

Her nails raked down his back, desperate to hold onto something as he wrecked her, her body bowing under each hard snap of his hips. She gasped, trying to say his name, but the force of his movements kept stealing her breath.

"You wanted this," he growled, pressing her thighs further apart, angling deeper until she cried out behind clamped hands. "Begged for it, now take it."

Her head fell back against the pillow, and he was beyond gone. His mouth found her throat, grazing sensitive skin with his teeth before latching on, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. His hands were everywhere: gripping, kneading, holding her under her ass, tilting her hips to take him even deeper as he lost himself in her.

Her barely concealed moans were a sweet symphony. Every gasp, every shudder, every little whimper sent him spiraling further, deeper into the abyss of need he’d been drowning in for so long.

His pace stuttered for a moment, and he knew he didn’t have much time left before his touch-starved body succumbed to the pleasure.

“Sweetheart, gonna come. Can't- fuck, can't hold it.” His voice was ragged, almost desperate. He changed the angle of his thrusts, grinding against her clit with each snap of his hips, as his thumb rubbed tight circles around it while he drove into her harder, deeper. He could feel his balls tightening, and the base of his shaft starting to pulse with impending release.

“Don’t hold back,” she whispered, needy. “Give it to me, Bucky.”

“Please, please, please, wanna feel you squeeze my cock when I fill you up.” The filthy words fell from his lips like a prayer, punctuated by the slap of skin on skin and the creak of the bed frame.

“You don’t have to- oh! Oh fuck!” His fingers pinched her clit and combined with the relentless drag of his cock against that perfect spot inside her, he pushed her right to another orgasm.

Bucky threw his head back with a guttural moan as her spasming heat pushed him irremediably over the edge. His hips stuttered, losing rhythm as he emptied himself inside her with a few more erratic thrusts.

He stayed close, bracketing her with his arms, unwilling to lose the warmth of her body against his. His chest heaved against hers, and his heart hammered so loud he swore she could hear it.

For a long moment, neither of them moved, caught in the haze of pleasure. Then, with a soft hum, Bucky pressed a slow, tender kiss to her temple.

She was wrecked, her body felt boneless against his, and he could feel the faint tremors in her limbs as she tried to catch her breath.

Guilt curled in his chest, even as the satisfaction warmed his bones. He had been so desperate, so fucking unhinged. Carefully, he shifted onto his back, dragging her with him, tucking her against his chest. His vibranium arm slid beneath her, curling protectively around her waist, while his other hand found its way to her hair stroking it absently.

She let out a contented sigh, melting into his embrace, dragging her leg over his hip, and tracing idly patterns over the ridges of his pectorals with her fingers. "I'm sure you have listened to this a thousand times, but you are so damn handsome." she said, kissing his chest, just on a bullet scar.

"I used to hear it, yeah, a lifetime ago," he murmured, a little uncomfortable. "Now I'm- this is the first time after-"

"Oh, I have no problem reminding you every day," she interrupted softly, pressing another kiss in the scarred tissue that joined with the prosthesis, like she was trying to erase the past with tenderness alone.

Bucky let out a shaky breath. "Fuck. Don’t say those kinds of things."

"Why?" she murmured against his skin, her breath warm. "It’s the truth."

It was a truth he had spent years rejecting, drowning in guilt and self-loathing. He couldn't reconcile the idea that someone like her -bright, warm, whole- could want someone like him. Letting aside the arm, the scars, the patchwork of a body that didn’t feel like his own, there was all that neurological shit, the PTSD, the weight of a past he would never fully escape.

But… as he’d admitted to himself days before, he was a selfish bastard.

And he was done relegating himself to the shadows.

So he did the only thing that made sense, he rolled her beneath him again, caging her in with his body, and captured her lips in a kiss that left no room for doubt.

----

Bucky was leaning against the counter, with his fingers curled around a steaming mug of coffee, while she stood by the stove, mindlessly stirring a pan of eggs. He had already offered to cook, but she had swatted him away with a teasing “You did enough last night.” That had earned her a low chuckle and a smirk, but now, as he watched her move around his kitchen, it hit him just how much had changed in less than twenty-four hours.

Thomas was still asleep, blissfully unaware of that shift between them. And maybe that was for the best. They had talked about it before bed, about whether to sit him down and explain everything or let things unfold naturally. They had landed somewhere in the middle. No grand announcements, no life-altering conversations just yet. Just small changes. Small moments.

Like now.

She moved to pour herself some coffee, and when she reached for the sugar, his hand shot out, effortlessly taking the jar from the shelf above her head, leaning against her body, and passing it to her without a word. A small, natural thing. Familiar.

She looked at him for a second, a small smile playing at her lips, before murmuring, “Thanks, babe.”

His fingers twitched against his mug. That was new.

His eyes flicked to her, trying to picture if she had said it absentmindedly or if she was testing the waters. But she just went back to stirring her coffee, as if she had always called him that, as if it wasn’t unraveling something tight in his chest.

Bucky exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “You tryna kill me first thing in the morning?”

She grinned. “Just seeing how it feels.”

It felt good. Dangerous, maybe. But good.

Before he could say anything, a sleepy shuffle sounded from the hallway, followed by a groggy voice. “Mornin’.”

Thomas padded into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes,. His hair was a complete mess, sticking up in every direction. He yawned, clambering onto a chair at the table, blinking at the plate of food already waiting for him.

Bucky reached over and ruffled his son’s hair. “You slept late, bud.”

Thomas blinked up at her. Then, as if remembering something, he perked up. “You’re stayed over again?”

She hesitated, but Bucky answered before she had to. “Yeah.”

Thomas seemed to consider that for a second before shrugging and reaching for his toast. “Cool.”

She and Bucky exchanged a glance. Small changes. Small steps.

----

There was something different about Bucky.

Steve had known him for a long time, long enough to recognize that the man wasn’t the same as he had been just a month ago. Not that Bucky had ever been miserable -okay, maybe he had-, but it was a soft kind of miserable, the kind he carried in his shoulders and the downward cast of his eyes.

That weight? It had lifted. Not entirely, but enough.

Enough that he didn’t immediately say no when Sam suggested grabbing a beer. Enough that he had started showing up to training sessions without needing to be dragged in. Enough that when Clint had shoved a dumb little bobblehead figurine in his face last week, instead of an unimpressed glare, Bucky had smirked and said, "That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen."

Which, by Bucky standards, was practically a compliment.

But the real kicker?

The thing that had set off every alarm bell in Steve’s head?

Bucky had called Natasha’s keychain cute.

So, yeah. It was time for an intervention.

This was why Steve, Sam, Clint, and Natasha were currently loitering in the gym, watching Bucky put a reinforced training dummy through hell. They were subtle about it, standing just far enough apart to seem casual, arms crossed or hands on hips, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Sam was the first to break the silence. “So, Tinman. You seem... cheerful lately.”

Bucky didn’t pause his assault on the dummy, but Steve caught the way his jaw clenched just slightly.

“I seem normal,” Bucky corrected, landing a sharp jab. “Which apparently is a crime now.”

Clint snorted. “Nah, normal would be you scowling while beating the hell out of that thing. But you? You’re smiling these days, man. It’s weird. It’s unnatural.”

Bucky finally stopped, exhaling sharply as he wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist. “Maybe I’m just in a good mood. You ever consider that?”

Steve exchanged glances with the others before looking back at Bucky. “And what, exactly, put you in such a good mood?”

Bucky almost got away with brushing them off. Almost.

But then Natasha smirked, tilting her head just so, and said, “Yeah, Barnes. What’s got you all domesticated lately?”

Bucky huffed, reaching for his water bottle and taking a long sip, dragging out the pause like it would somehow make them drop the subject. It didn’t.

Steve stood firm, with his arms crossed, wearing that all-knowing, annoying-as-hell look he always got when Bucky was trying to bullshit his way out of something. Sam had a smirk that screamed I’m about to make this worse for you, and Clint was practically vibrating with the need to say something inappropriate. Natasha, meanwhile, just looked amused.

“Come on, Buck,” Sam drawled, tilting his head. “What’s got you walking around like you just discovered life’s not a raging dumpster fire?”

“Maybe I just don’t hate people as much as I used to,” Bucky shot back, tossing his empty bottle toward the bin. It bounced off the rim. He scowled.

Clint snorted. “Yeah, no. Something’s up. Spill.”

“Nothing’s up,” Bucky said, grabbing a towel to wipe his face. “I’ve just-” He hesitated, just for a second, but it was enough.

Sam’s smirk widened. “You’ve just what, Buck?”

Bucky sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I’m seeing someone.”

There was a brief pause. Then Clint and Sam turned to each other, grinning like idiots.

“Naughty nanny,” they said in unison.

Bucky’s expression darkened instantly. He dropped the towel and turned toward them with a sharp look. “Don’t call her that.”

His voice wasn’t raised, but there was something in the way he said it, that made both of them shut it. Even Clint, who usually had no sense of self-preservation, put his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright. Relax, man,” Sam said quickly, clearly realizing they’d struck a nerve.

Steve cleared his throat and stepped in, changing the subject with a smirk. “Her, huh?” He nudged Bucky’s shoulder. “Who would have thought, right? You owe me, punk.”

Bucky groaned. “Shut it, Steve. You almost ruined everything.”

Steve scoffed, shaking his head. “There wasn’t anything to ruin before I set you two up, jerk.”

Bucky muttered something under his breath and ran a hand through his hair.

Natasha, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke, eyes glinting with amusement. “I’m gonna need some details.”

----

That so-called intervention quickly spiraled into something else entirely, and he couldn't even pinpoint the exact moment he'd walked into their damn trap. One second, he was deflecting, the next, he was somehow agreeing to a casual get-together at the Tower so they could meet her.

And vice versa.

It had to be while Thomas was at kindergarten, Clint had insisted, because, well, she was his naughty nanny.

“I told you not to call her that!” Bucky had snapped, throwing a half-hearted punch at Clint’s shoulder.

----

That afternoon, when he got home, the irritation from their relentless teasing melted away as soon as he stepped through the door.

She and Thomas were at the coffee table, surrounded by a mess of paper scraps, glue sticks, and colorful cutouts. She was laughing softly as Thomas showed off a questionable-looking collage, waving a star-shaped paper cutter in the air like it was some great artistic tool.

Bucky leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed, watching them for a moment. He finally broke the silence, eyeing the scattered paper cutters warily. “Should I be worried about all the sharp objects?”

She arched a brow, unimpressed. “You are the least qualified person in this house to comment on sharp objects.”

Before he could fire back, Thomas shoved a moon-shaped cutter into her hands. “Sweetheart, do more of these!”

Bucky blinked, zeroing his gaze on the kid. “Where did that come from?”

She winced, giving him an apologetic grimace.

“She bought it for me,” Thomas explained, waving the cutter.

“No, kiddo… why did you call her that?” Bucky corrected, feeling a sudden need to sit down. “You can’t just-”

“But you call her that all the time,” Thomas interrupted, as if Bucky were the one saying something ridiculous.

Damn.

Bucky opened his mouth, then hesitated. “Because… it’s a name only adults use with each other.”

Thomas squinted. “You never call that to Uncle Steve or Uncle Clint.”

“Because Uncle Steve- because he-” Bucky scrambled, searching for an out.

Thomas just stared, waiting.

Bucky sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Because he ain’t my sweetheart, that’s why.”

“Why?”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, already regretting this conversation. “Because Uncle Steve and Uncle Clint are my friends.”

Thomas frowned. “But Daddy! She’s your friend too! Not just Uncle Steve and Uncle-”

“Alright, alright,” he cut in, hands raised in surrender. “She’s just... another kind of friend.”

Thomas tilted his head, considering. “Better than best friend?”

Bucky’s throat went dry. It was time to man up and find out if this was going to be fine, or if his heart was about to get wrecked.

He shifted his weight, glancing briefly at her before looking back at Thomas. “Kiddo, what would you say if I told you she’s my girlfriend?”

Thomas barely blinked before shrugging. “Oh, I know that.”

Bucky’s mouth opened, then closed. He and she exchanged a look, hers somewhere between amusement and curiosity, and his caught between disbelief and something dangerously close to panic.

“How- why do you know?” Bucky finally asked, trying not to sound as floored as he felt. His brain attempted to reboot from the emotional haymaker he’d just been dealt. Beside him, she bit back a laugh, clearly failing, her hand over her mouth and her eyes wide with amusement.

Thomas, completely unbothered, went on in that matter-of-fact tone only small children and truth-tellers dared to wield.

“Because you touch her,” he said, waving a glue-covered hand like it was obvious. “Like, a lot. And you don’t touch other people, Daddy.”

Bucky blinked. “That’s... fair.”

“And you smile a lot to her,” Thomas added, glancing up from the glittery moon he was carefully pasting to the paper. “And the other day, Flora told me her mommy saw you kissing in the street.”

Bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Damn Flora,” he muttered. Then, remembering himself, “-not Flora, just-” her mommy. Damn Flora’s mommy.”

She stifled a snort beside him.

Thomas wasn’t done. “Also, I saw you too.”

Bucky’s heart stopped. “W–where?” he asked, hearing his voice going thin with panic. What had he seen? God, one of those ‘quick moments’ in the kitchen when he thought Thomas was in the bathroom too long-

“At the building’s entrance,” Thomas said, not even looking up. “I always see you through the window. You kiss when she leaves.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, slumping his shoulders in relief. Thank God. He covered it with a gruff cough and tried not to look like he just dodged a missile.

“That’s... alright,” he said, eyes flicking to her with a sheepish smile.

“See?” Thomas said proudly, like he’d just solved a puzzle. “I already knew she was your girlfriend.”

“Yeah, buddy. She is,” he stated gently. “And… and what do you think about it?”

Thomas didn’t even look up from his crooked glittery sun. “It’s cool,” the boy said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Because I like her a lot.”

Bucky’s heart gave a relieved little thud. But then-

“And if you get married…” Thomas’s voice dropped, hesitant now, uncertain. His small eyes flicked sideways, landing shyly on her. “She’s going to be my mom.”

Silence fell for a moment, thick.

Bucky’s throat worked, but no words came out. That hit deeper than anything had in a long time.

Thomas didn’t talk much about his mom, and hadn’t asked many questions since they'd started building this life together. Bucky had told him the basics. That she was in heaven. That she’d loved him very much. What else could he have said?

But this -this little wish- was something else. It carved a sharp line through his chest. Thomas needed more than a father who kept his ghosts locked in the back of his mind. He needed comfort. Nurturing. Things Bucky gave the best he could, but… the truth was, he didn’t know if it had ever been enough. Not all the way.

And it wasn’t fair to her either. Their relationship was still new, still tender. Too early for this kind of pressure, this kind of longing to be dropped at her feet.

She didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to.

Instead, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around the little boy, pulling him gently into her chest. She kissed the top of his head and held him there, just letting him be safe, for a moment, in the circle of her arms.

Bucky watched it happen with a tight ache in his chest. The sight of his son cradled against the woman he cared for, with her eyes closed as she held him, was almost too much.

He looked away, blinking hard. Then cleared his throat.

“You want to order pizza tonight, buddy?” he asked, his voice a little rough but stable. “We can eat, the three of us.”

Thomas looked up from her embrace, and his face lit up instantly. “Yeah!”

Then, with all the gravity of a very important host, he turned to her. “If you want to stay longer.”

She smiled, and her heart caught a little at how hopeful he sounded. “I’d love to.”

Thomas nodded like that settled the matter, then went right back to picking glitter out of his glue-covered fingers.

----

Eventually, with all the shapes cut and only the final collage touches left, Bucky slid a look her way and tilted his head toward the kitchen. She caught the silent invitation and followed, wiping her hands on a napkin.

Once they were out of earshot, he leaned close. “Hey, I- uh. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, really… but maybe I’ve been ambushed into accepting a meet-up with the guys.”

Her brow lifted. “With Steve and the others?”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “They kind of want to meet the person who apparently made me less-” He winced slightly, then pushed on, flicking his eyes to hers. “The person who makes me happy.”

She blinked, caught off guard by the honesty in his tone. His cheeks flushed pink under the kitchen light, and she felt her stomach flutter at how soft he looked at that moment. Tall, scarred, hardened Bucky Barnes, suddenly unsure.

Her voice was gentle. “Did they really ambush you?”

“It was brutal, they attacked me as a pack,” he said dryly.

She chuckled and touched his hand lightly. “Then I guess I better make a good impression.”

“You will,” he said, already certain.

----

So here they were, the two of them stepping into the compound on a Friday just past noon, walking straight into what had been dubbed a casual lunch.

A casual lunch with the fucking Avengers.

She tried not to fidget, though her nerves had her fingers twitching against the strap of her bag. Sure, she had met Sam and Clint briefly at the kindergarten event, and Steve when he came to pick up Thomas when Bucky couldn’t, and during that very questionable not-a-set-up hiring. But this? This was different.

These were her boyfriend’s friends. His team. People who’d gone to war together, and who’d known him through all the complicated layers he tried so hard to keep from the world. Super soldiers. Ex-spies. God-tier chaos agents.

What if they thought she was boring? What if they thought she didn’t belong? What if-

"For fuck’s sake, man, stop eating all the damn chips! I already refilled that thing twice!" someone shouted, clearly audible even from down the hallway.

"Hey! Gimme that!" came Clint’s unmistakable squawk in response.

Bucky just pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled through it, like this was a common occurrence. It probably was. He kept his other hand pressed against the small of her back as they walked toward the chaos masquerading as lunch.

As they reached the sleek, modern-furnished dining area, the chatter died down, and suddenly, every set of eyes in the room was on her.

Oh, God.

She swallowed. “Um… h-hi.”

----

She had to admit… this was not how she imagined them to be.

On TV, in interviews, and even in all those articles dissecting their every move, they always appeared so composed. Imposing. Untouchable. Like living legends.

But in reality?

They were a family. A very dysfunctional, loud, and chaotic one.

Sam and Clint had somehow turned lunch into a competition over who could make the worst hamburger, with Steve acting as the referee. Natasha, who she had expected to be distant -intimidating, even- was currently stealing fries from everyone’s plates with an expression so impassive that no one dared to call her out.

And then there was Bucky. Sitting next to her, subtly keeping her close, idly tracing circles against her thigh with his fingers beneath the table. Like he could sense every flicker of tension in her muscles.

“So-” Natasha drawled, in a far too casual to be innocent tone, as she perched against the edge of the table, plucking another fry from Clint’s plate with surgical precision. “We have a very vague idea, but how exactly did you two meet?”

She tilted her head, smirking, while Clint sighed dramatically and gave up on defending his lunch.

“Well, I was… Thomas’ teacher,” she said, smiling a little as she glanced at Bucky. “So, we met at the kindergarten.”

“He asked me for a dress shirt, you know?” Steve piped up suddenly, muffled behind a huge bite of his burger. “For your first interview?” He added quickly, ducking just in time to avoid the death glare Bucky shot him.

“Aww, Buck,” Sam teased, grinning like the damn Cheshire Cat. “You got it bad from day one.”

Bucky scowled. “I wasn’t- I thought I had to dress formally for a teacher-parent meeting. It’s not my fault things changed that much.”

“Well,” she cut in with a soft laugh, “if it makes you feel better, you looked so handsome that day. I felt completely underdressed and had to remind myself to be professional and not just… keep staring at you.”

Bucky blinked, caught off guard. “…R-really?”

She nodded, biting back a more obvious smile. “Yeah.”

Before anyone else could tease him into a full-on blush, Natasha steered the conversation expertly. “Anyway,” she said, casually kicking her feet against the table. “We do know that Captain Rogers here set you up for the nanny job. But when did you actually start dating? How did he propose?”

The table went silent for half a beat. Even Steve lowered his burger again, turning his curious eyes toward the couple.

Bucky exhaled and dragged a hand down his face, already bracing himself for the incoming storm of teasing. “Um… I kind of didn’t,” he admitted, flicking his eyes toward her with a helpless shrug.

She turned to the group with a small smile. “I did.”

“What?” Sam leaned forward with a loud laugh. “You asked him?”

She tilted her head, lips twitching like she was holding back laughter. “Yeah. I did,” she confirmed, stealing a sip from her drink.

Sam let out a bark of laughter, slapping the table

Bucky groaned, rubbing his temples. “Can we not-”

“I mean, come on,” Clint cut in. “How does that even happen?”

She hummed, feigning deep thought. “Well… there was an elevator involved. Then a couch. Then the kitchen counter.”

A collective groan erupted around the table.

“Jesus Christ, Barnes,” Natasha muttered, shaking her head.

Sam clutched his chest dramatically. “Not the counter, people eat there!”

“You’ve all done worse things in here,” Bucky muttered darkly.

“Yeah, but we weren’t all repressed as hell before it happened,” Clint shot back.

Steve, watching the scene unfold with barely restrained amusement, leaned forward. “So let me get this straight,” he said, directing the question at her. “After finally getting him to make a move, you were the one who asked him out?”

She grinned. “Yeah.”

Bucky just grumbled something under his breath, but his hand still found hers under the table, curling his fingers around hers.

----

They slipped out of the common room once everyone was distracted arguing over dessert. Steve insisting on pie, Clint on ice cream, and Sam advocating for both. Bucky led her down a quieter hallway, with their fingers still loosely linked. He stopped at a small balcony overlooking the city skyline. Needed a breather?” she asked, leaning on the railing.

“Yeah.” He exhaled through his nose, bracing his hands beside hers. “They’re a lot.”

“They are.” She smiled gently. “But they love you, and they are happy for you. That much is clear.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared ahead, with his jaw tight like he was wrestling with the words.

Then, slowly, like the words weighed more than he could carry, Bucky spoke, “I never thought I’d ever have this.” He looked at her, raw and exposed. “Someone who could still want me, knowing… everything.”

His throat closed. Even now, saying it out loud felt impossible, like naming the damage might make her reconsider.

She turned toward him, reaching up to gently brush a strand of hair off his forehead. “You’re a good man, Bucky. Attentive. Caring. A great dad. And let’s not forget the ‘handsome as hell’ part. Who wouldn’t want you?”

He huffed a low laugh, dropping his gaze. “I still think you’re crazy for choosing me.”

“Well, I am crazy,” she replied with a teasing smile. “Crazy about you.”

Then she kissed his cheek, soft and warm and a little smug. “Look at that. You’ve got me saying cheesy stuff I’d normally cringe at if I heard it from someone else.”

That earned her one of his rare, softer grins, the kind that still felt new like he hadn’t quite gotten used to letting it happen. He leaned in, resting his forehead against hers, gliding his hands to her waist, pulling her close.

She curled her fingers into the hem of his shirt.

“I don’t know how I lived before you.” He murmured.

“Grumpy and brooding,” she teased gently.

“Still am,” he smirked.

She shrugged. “Yeah, but now you’re my grumpy and brooding.”

He laughed under his breath, then pulled her close, chest to chest, snugging his arms around her like he was afraid she’d slip away if he didn’t hold on.

They stayed like that for a moment, breathing the same air, with her hands gently rubbing up and down his back. He closed his eyes.

It crept up on him, memories he usually kept buried under steel and silence. Cold tiles beneath his spine. Straps digging into his flesh. The weight of decades that had stolen everything soft from him.

He didn’t mean to tighten his grip, but he did, holding her just a little closer, basking in the warmth of her body, and the beat of her heart. She just pressed a kiss to his jaw and wrapped her arms tighter around his shoulders.

He let out a shaky breath, brushing his lips against hers, not with hunger this time, but with reverence. A silent thank-you for everything she was giving him just by staying.

He didn’t pull back, just stayed there with their foreheads touching. The moment stretched, soft, and he wished he could press himself into it and stay there forever.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He swallowed hard. “Sometimes I just get… hit with stuff.”

She didn’t ask what kind of stuff. She didn’t need to.

His fingers skimmed the curve of her back, needing to feel her warmth under his hands. He wasn’t in a lab anymore, or some holding cell with his mind half-shattered and a muzzle over his mouth. He was here. With her.

She gave a small hum, tracing lazy shapes across the back of his neck, patiently. No pressure to speak. No need to explain.

He cleared his throat softly, feeling the weight in his chest lifting enough to let a breath out. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s see if those vultures decided on dessert.”

She chuckled against his shoulder, sliding her hand into his as they turned back to go inside. Then she grinned, bumping her hip gently into his. “I don’t know… I might skip dessert.”

He raised a brow, side-eyeing her with mock suspicion. “Yeah?”

“Mmhm.” She tiptoed just enough to brush her lips near his ear, teasing. “I already know what I want later.”

Bucky choked on a breath, and his steps faltered just for a second. She was already walking ahead, with her hand still nestled in his. The picture of innocence.

He caught up, with a soft laugh and a look that promised payback.

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Dividers by: /@strangergraphics

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #the winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x female reader #winter soldier fanfiction #bucky barnes x curvy!reader

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whoreforsexymen · 7 months ago

Text

Hidden In Plain Sight | Viktor

Pairings: Viktor x GN!Reader

Pronouns: None used for reader 🤍

Rating: NSFW, 18+, MDNI !! You WILL be blocked!

Word Count: 2.5k

Tags: Blowjob, Unknown/Unintentional Voyeurism

Summary: You aren’t going to let a conversation stop you from relieving your lover of his frustrations.

Notes: Heyyy!! So. I’m working on requests. But this idea popped into my head when I was rewatching S1 to prepare for S2!!

This is based on S1 E5, the conversation Viktor has with Sky Young. I loved the idea that, since Viktor was so clearly uninterested in her, I should make the reason for the uninterest be you. 🥵🤍 Enjoy, my loves.

I SWEAR PT. 2 of The Cuck Fic is COMING SOON!!!!

Viktor threw his hands to his sides in a sharp, exaggerated motion, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He leaned back in his chair, tilting his head back against the top of it as he tried to counteract the heaviness that had settled over him. The weight of his thoughts was more palpable than any tangible burden. His eyes drifted briefly to the clutter of papers scattered on the desk, but nothing held his focus for long.

Viktor’s mind drifted, momentarily pulling him away from the weight of his work. He wondered where you were, why you weren’t here with him now. In moments like this, when the pressure of it all became too much, he often needed you to hold him, to ground him in a way only you could. He could almost feel the comfort of your presence, the warmth of your touch, and it left a deep ache in him. It wasn’t just the physical relief he craved—it was the calm, the quiet reassurance that you always provided. Without you there, the room felt colder, emptier.

He exhaled sharply, a deep sigh that seemed to carry more than just exhaustion. The silence of the room hung in the air, thick and unyielding, until it was broken by a soft, almost hesitant voice from behind him.

“It’s beautiful.”

Viktor tensed up at the sudden intrusive voice.

The words felt distant, like they belonged to another world entirely, one that wasn’t caught in the weight of Viktor’s own spiraling thoughts. He didn’t need to look to know who it was—he could picture her there, standing a little too close, her voice trembling at the edges.

Sky. Always Sky.

Viktor didn’t turn. There was no need to. She had said enough with those few words. He inhaled again, slower this time, trying to keep his “irritation” from surfacing.

He sighed, the sound low and heavy.

“I can’t figure out why it’s not working…” Viktor muttered, his voice flat, as he rubbed his hands over his face, trying to maintain a simple composure. It wasn’t just “frustration”—there was something else lurking beneath it. Something quieter that gnawed at the edges of his mind.

“You will…” Sky’s voice was soft, almost soothing, as though she had said those words a thousand times before, to herself or to him, or perhaps to both. Viktor didn’t acknowledge the comment, his gaze still fixed on “nothing” as he looked down into his lap.

Sky shifted, an anxious movement that Viktor could feel even without seeing it. He imagined her wringing her hands, pushing her glasses up her nose, trying to find the right thing to say.

“Are you… headed home soon?” Her voice was tinged with hope, though it faltered as she continued, as if she already knew the answer.

“I thought we could walk together…”

Her words hung there, like a delicate thread pulling at the edge of his attention. But Viktor wasn’t interested. He didn’t hate her, but his mind was somewhere else—too far away to grasp her meaning.

He almost rolled his eyes, but he stifled it. Instead, he answered with an aloofness that was more instinct than deliberate cruelty.

“I’m, uh… probably going to sleep here tonight,” he said, his voice distant, distracted. The words were a gentle deflection, but the disinterest was clear. His fingers tapped absently on the desk, the motion more automatic than purposeful.

Sky’s voice softened, like a fading echo.

“Again? You know there’s always tomorrow, right?” The words stung, though she tried to mask it with a forced cheer. Viktor didn’t respond right away, but he knew what she was trying to do.

“Goodnight, Miss Young,” he said, his tone a little more clipped now, though he didn’t intend for it to sound harsh. He didn’t need to look at her to know she was still there, standing in the doorway, hoping for something—anything—that would make him look at her the way she looked at him. But he didn’t.

She hesitated for a moment, her presence lingering in the room like a shadow, before she stepped back. The silence stretched on in her absence, but Viktor remained frozen in place, his thoughts elsewhere, far away from the quiet, expectant gaze he knew she had been offering.

With a soft exhale, Sky left. And the room was quiet once more.

As the door clicked shut behind her, replacing the silence, Viktor let out a long breath, as though he had been holding every one of the previous ones far too long.

The room fell into an uneasy stillness, broken only by the mechanical hum of surrounding equipment, his own steady breathing, and the faint sound of wet, sloppy, suckling.

He looks down into his lap once more, where you were, your head bobbing between his legs like a buoy in water.

Viktor felt his stomach churn at the sight of it, a wave of pleasure pooling inside him. A low, involuntary groan slipped from his lips, the sound escaping after he’d spent too long stifling it.

It was deep, slow, and rich, a reflex of the sensation that tightened in his chest and spread through his body. His breath hitched slightly as the pleasure took control, a warmth spreading through him as he fought to stay composed in case anyone else were to pop into the room.

Your lips were wrapped tightly around his needy cock, maintaining a seal around it as you sucked and licked at it.

Viktor, truthfully, hadn’t been frustrated at all during his exchange with his assistant.

In fact, he had been struggling to conceal the pleasure slowly building within him—pleasure he had worked hard to keep hidden from Sky.

Earlier, you had offered to help ease his tensions, but Viktor had turned you down, citing the risk of someone walking by at any moment. You couldn’t deny he had a point—-which felt ironic, now. But you weren’t one to be easily deterred.

You couldn’t help but pity Viktor, watching him struggle with the frustration that clung to him like a second skin. The weight of his work seemed to suffocate him—trying to stabilize and control the intricate combinations of runes for the new version of Hextech he and Jayce had launched. The constant pressure, the endless tinkering and problem-solving, had a way of wearing him down.

No matter how often you reminded him how brilliant, how capable, how wonderful he was, it never seemed to quiet that relentless inner voice of doubt. He always carried that burden, that self-imposed expectation of perfection, even when he had already accomplished so much.

You knew there was only one real way to relieve his aggravation apart from the simpler comforts you’d provide.

And so, as Viktor bent over his work, eyes fixed on the sprawling notes before him, you slipped under his desk. He didn’t notice at first, too lost in his thoughts, as you moved quietly and carefully, prowling and crawling to him like a tiger stalking a gazelle.

What you didn’t realize, though, was that Sky had arrived and was now looming behind Viktor in the annoyingly often way she did. The chair Viktor occupied, wide and heavy, combined with you on your knees, faithfully hid you from her eyes. Leaving Sky unaware of your proximity, just as Viktor remained blissfully unaware of her presence.

Your hands were beyond eager as they worked to unbutton his clothes, the fabric of his pants slipping easily beneath your fingers. You could feel him tense, stiff as a statue as you pulled his cock out right after she had said her first sentence.

You knew Viktor was stunned, and it amused you to imagine the expression on his face as he tried to conceal what was happening outside of Sky’s awareness.

You only had to wait, feeling the tension in him shift, his body responding to your touch in ways he was trying hard to ignore, while also trying desperately hard to maintain an unsuspecting tone as he talked.

You had begun lapping, sucking, and hollowing out your cheeks to accommodate his size and length. You greedily slid down until his cock reached the back of your throat, almost laughing at the sound of the sharp inhale that garnered from him.

A part of you almost wished Sky could see you—see how easily you could reduce this man to a babbling mess, unlike anyone else. It wasn’t as if you and he were some secret, hidden item, but maybe if she knew, really knew, what you often did to him, and how he crumbled, she’d finally back off.

Maybe then, and only then, would she relinquish her pathetic attempts to encroach on what was yours. The thought of her realizing that she’d never compare, never measure up to the desire Viktor had for you, gave you a twisted air of satisfaction.

You heavily considered the idea.

Your amusement remained bold, even as Viktor’s attention finally drifted down to where you were hidden beneath his desk. It was almost as if he had sensed your devious train of thought.

He shot you a look, one that said more than words ever could. There was a trace of minor disappointment in the way his brow furrowed, confusion flickering in his eyes as he tried to reconcile what was happening beneath the table with the ongoing conversation. But beneath it all, you saw the unmistakably familiar glimmer of pleasure, one he couldn’t quite suppress, despite his attempt to maintain control.

It was a mix of surprise and something deeper, something he didn’t always allow himself to acknowledge. His eyes lingered just long enough for you to sense it, the tension between his desire to focus on his work and the undeniable pull of the moment.

Several painstakingly long moments passed before Viktor finally managed to rid the room of the unwanted third presence. As Sky exited, Viktor released a deep, almost aching sigh—one that resonated with a relief so intense, it sent a shiver of arousal down your spine. The tension that had been weighing on him seemed to melt away in an instant, and the air between you thickened with the shift in his attitude.

Without hesitation, his hand slipped into your hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as he gently tugged you closer. His gaze met yours, dark and heavy, as though he had been waiting for this moment, for the silence to settle between you both. The way he looked at you now was unmistakable, that mix of pleasure and need, the kind of intensity that made your pulse quicken.

“You really need to learn patience, my love.” He breathes, his other hand coming up to caress your cheek as he uses his grip on your hair to help guide your movement.

He hisses as he pushes your head down far enough to lightly rut his cock into the very back of your throat.

“What if she had seen you?” He asks, not really expecting a reply considering your current state.

You hum lightly as he slowly but surely flicks his hips up into your mouth, gagging around him as he did so. Viktor’s string of moans in response to your gags were filthy, needy, and whiny. You always drove him crazy, and this was no exception.

“Mmf…” he groans, biting his lip as a last ditch effort to keep himself from moaning too loud—-quickening the pace with which he began bobbing your head to meet his tiny thrusts.

“Mmm.. like that, my love.” He instructs softly—reassuring that the new way you had started licking up and down the length of his cock was simply divine.

Viktor was cursing himself inside due to the speed at which his orgasm was approaching. You’d barely been down there six minutes when he recognized the familiar tightening in his stomach nearing the edge of snapping.

“My love, I— I’m going to—“ he tried to warn you before his hot cum began spewing onto the inner walls of your mouth. It shot directly into the back of your throat, splattering off the tissues and trickling down your esophagus. The tepid, viscous substance slid further and further down as you swallowed around his twitching cock.

Viktor had cum with the unholiest of moans leaping out of his throat to invade your ears. It sent an unforgiving wave of arousal through you, singeing your skin and shocking your bones. He had gripped your face with an automatic force, pushing you down as far as you could possibly go, his eyes clamping shut as the thick strings of cum practically drowned you on land.

You gagged against the mindless way he jerked his hips into your mouth as he chased his orgasm seemingly halfway to your stomach.

Viktor practically whimpered at the sensation of you mercilessly swallowing around him—-now sensitive beyond measure from the sheer might of his climax. You had been correct—-he really needed that—arguably more than anything else.

When the pressure in your throat became unbearable, you squeezed his leg, silently pleading for him to loosen his grip.

Viktor’s eyes snapped open, the clarity that followed his release allowing him to regain his focus. He immediately uncoupled his hands from your head.

“I—I’m sorry, my love… I guess I got carried away,” he muttered, his voice tinged with sheepish regret.

You gasped as you pulled away, strands of saliva trailing down your chin in a delicate cascade—-like a miniature waterfall against your skin.

You hum softly in response to his apology, the hum dancing along the edge of a gentle laugh.

“Guess I did, too,” you murmur, wiping your mouth clean as you meet his gaze with silent affection.

Viktor gently cups your face once more, his thumb sweeping over the apple of your cheek as a soft smile tugs at his lips.

“Thank you…” he whispers, his voice rich with adoration, gratitude, and love for you. He tilts his head, aligning it with yours as his intent becomes clear.

He presses his lips to yours in a tender, silent show of his affection. Viktor shudders as a result of tasting himself all over your lips and tongue. The fact that you had eagerly swallowed every last drop sent a jolt through him, making his hair stand on end—-as it always did. He was downright obsessed with your greedy thirst for his cock and his seed.

The passion and tenderness with which Viktor kisses you never fail to set your heart racing, the gentle yet intense pressure of his lips stirring a swarm of butterflies in your stomach.

After several tender, passionate moments, your lips still lingering in a dance of their own, Viktor pulls away, his mind swirling with the renewed flames of longing sparked by what just transpired.

“My love… Why don’t we move… on top of the table?” he suggests, a playful gleam lighting up his eyes as he gazes into yours once more.

At his suggestion, you feel the butterflies in your stomach morph into something far more intense—fighter jets soaring through the cavern of your core. You meet his playful gaze with one of eager anticipation.

You nod, shifting to rise from your knees.

“I’ll lock the door,” you mutter softly.

#arcane smut #arcane x reader #arcane #arcane imagine #arcane x reader smut #Viktor x reader #Viktor x reader smut #Viktor arcane #viktor x gn!reader #Viktor x fem!reader #Viktor x male!reader #Viktor x f!reader #Viktor x m!reader

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sweetimmoral · 9 months ago

Text

the gentle shuffling beneath the sheets distracts tom from his reading. he turns to look at the bed. no, stare at the bed, as if his concentration is going to make your sleepy head visible to him like magic.

"tom?" he hears your tiny, sleepy voice call out.

"oh, i'm here" he calls out reassuringly, trying to sound a bit more reassured than how he feels himself. you hummed in response, a smile on your face evident in the tune.

it made his heart skip a beat.

he had never let anyone sleep over in his dingy apartment above burke's. it was more of a cupboard with creaky floors that smelt like old paper and a bit of earl grey. it smelled like tom. you liked that, you told him, and that he needn't be ashamed. the economy is in shambles after the great war, you said as you cupped his face. he could only manage half a smile to respond to that.

in the morning he'd expected you to disappear from his bed. to be gone. and never return.

as he held your face the night before, he was almost reciting his disappointment. ever since he'd met you he'd been waiting for you to leave him. waiting. anxiously. not hoping, no, never hoping. it's just that you're too good, to sweet for someone so cruel and unlovable.

in some twisted metaphor, he felt his cold, long fingers warm up as they soaked some of the warmth of your pretty face. he let himself feel it. the heat. the fact that you were so real, as real as the blood flowing through your body, as real as the part of you he kissed with his tip just moments before. he let his fingers wander down south to feel just how and where he had ruined you. caressing your swollen parts with his dexterous fingers, holding his breath a little when he found his cum there. actual. tangible. there you were. and it was all real.

his hand settled comfortably on your waist after its restless roaming. he didnt want to wake up and witness the guilt he'd feel for going against every principle of his. the giant wall he'd been making around himself had no entrance, then how did you manage to comfortably reside in the broken castle ruins it protected – his heart? at least he could be assured that you would never leave. never.

and he'd resent you for this cruel trespassing forever.

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writeriguess · 5 months ago

Note

Heya! May i have a Mandalorian x fem!reader? She's like his mechanic or something but she's also very attached to Grogu and is very caring towards them both. Maybe they're out somewhere and are attacked and reader gets hurt protecting Grogu and Din realizes how much he cares for her?

author's note: Thank you so much for requesting <3

A Home Among the Stars

The hiss of pressurized air filled the workshop as you carefully adjusted the hydrospanner in your hand. Your fingers danced over the controls, tightening bolts along the Razor Crest’s engine panel. Despite the old ship’s wear and tear, it had a charm that only a mechanic could appreciate—or someone who spent hours trying to keep it in the sky.

And that someone was you.

“Din,” you called out, wiping your grease-covered hands on your pants. You didn’t care about appearances when it came to your work. “When’s the last time you actually replaced the heat shielding? This thing’s held together with spit and hope.”

Din Djarin, the Mandalorian clad in his beskar armor, leaned against the entryway, arms crossed. His helmet tilted slightly, and though you couldn’t see his face, you could almost feel his sheepishness.

“It works,” he said simply, voice smooth and modulated.

You rolled your eyes, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Yeah, well, it won’t for long if you keep running it into blaster fire and letting Jawas ‘fix’ it with spare parts.”

A soft coo interrupted your lecture, and you glanced to the side to find Grogu perched on a crate, watching you intently. His big eyes sparkled with curiosity as his tiny hands fiddled with a stray bolt you’d left lying around.

“And you,” you said, smiling warmly as you crouched in front of him. “That’s not a toy, little guy.”

Grogu tilted his head, holding the bolt up as if in protest.

“Don’t encourage him,” Din muttered, stepping closer.

Ignoring the bounty hunter, you gently took the bolt from Grogu’s hands, replacing it with a small, smooth rock you kept in your pocket. It was something you’d found on one of your countless scavenging trips—a perfect fit for tiny hands.

“There,” you said softly, brushing your thumb over Grogu’s cheek. “Much better.”

The child made a happy sound, clutching the rock tightly. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, your chest warming with a tenderness you hadn’t felt in years.

“You spoil him,” Din said, though his tone lacked any real bite.

You straightened, shooting him a look. “And you don’t?”

Din shrugged. “He’s—”

“Special,” you finished for him. “I know. And he deserves to be treated that way.”

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the hum of the ship and Grogu’s contented babbling filling the air.

“You’re good with him,” Din said eventually, his voice quieter than usual.

Your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected compliment. “He’s easy to love,” you replied, glancing at Grogu. “Both of you are.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you immediately busied yourself with your tools, pretending you hadn’t just bared your soul in the middle of an engine repair.

Din didn’t respond right away, and the weight of his gaze felt almost tangible. You wondered what thoughts were running through his mind behind that expressionless helmet.

“Thank you,” he said finally, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You looked up, surprised. His stance had relaxed slightly, and though you couldn’t see his face, you felt the sincerity in his words.

“Anytime,” you said, giving him a small smile.

The planet was quiet, almost too quiet, as you followed Din through the narrow, winding paths of the market. It was the kind of place that seemed like it had more shadows than people, where eyes lingered too long and conversations hushed when strangers passed. Din walked ahead, his hand resting lightly on the blaster at his hip, while Grogu cooed softly from his floating pod beside you.

“Stick close,” Din said, his voice low but firm. He didn’t turn to look at you, but you could tell from the slight tilt of his helmet that he was checking on you regardless.

“I always do,” you replied, scanning the area. The market stalls were packed with all sorts of strange goods: glowing crystals, exotic fruits, scraps of tech you couldn’t identify. Despite the eerie atmosphere, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of curiosity.

Grogu made a delighted sound as you passed a stall selling shiny trinkets, his little hands reaching out toward the wares.

“No,” Din said immediately, his tone that of a long-suffering parent.

“Oh, come on,” you said, smiling as you reached into your pocket. “It’s just a little shiny thing. Let him have it.”

Din sighed, but he didn’t stop you as you handed over a few credits to the vendor and picked up a small metal orb. You placed it in Grogu’s hands, and his wide eyes sparkled with joy as he turned it over, inspecting it like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re going to spoil him rotten,” Din muttered.

“That’s the goal,” you shot back, grinning.

The Mandalorian shook his head, but you could see the faintest tilt of his helmet that suggested amusement.

The moment of levity didn’t last long. A sharp noise—a blaster bolt cutting through the air—shattered the peace of the market. Din moved before you even processed what was happening, his blaster drawn and his body positioned protectively in front of you and Grogu.

“Get to cover,” he barked, his voice tense.

You didn’t argue. Scooping Grogu’s pod closer to you, you ducked behind a stack of crates, your heart pounding in your chest.

The attackers came into view a moment later—three figures clad in mismatched armor, their weapons raised. You didn’t recognize them, but their intent was clear.

“Hand over the kid,” one of them growled, his voice distorted by a crude helmet.

“Not happening,” Din replied coldly.

Blaster fire erupted, the sound deafening in the confined space. Din moved with precision, returning fire and taking down one of the attackers in seconds. But the others were quick, flanking him and forcing him to retreat closer to your position.

Your hands trembled as you reached for the small blaster Din had insisted you carry. You weren’t a fighter, not like him, but you weren’t about to sit idly by while he and Grogu were in danger.

Grogu whimpered, clutching the shiny orb you’d given him, and your resolve hardened. You shifted to shield his pod with your body, your eyes scanning for an opening.

One of the attackers broke away, heading straight for you.

“Din!” you shouted, but he was too occupied with the other assailant to intervene.

You didn’t think. You didn’t have time to. As the attacker raised his weapon, you lunged forward, firing your blaster. The shot went wide, but it was enough to throw him off. He snarled, swinging his rifle like a club. The impact caught you in the side, and pain exploded through your ribs as you hit the ground hard.

“Stay away from him!” you gasped, struggling to your feet.

The attacker ignored you, his focus locked on Grogu. Adrenaline surged through you, overriding the pain, and you threw yourself between them just as he raised his rifle again. The butt of the weapon struck your shoulder, sending you sprawling.

“Hey!” Din’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and furious.

Before the attacker could land another blow, Din was there. His blaster fired point-blank, dropping the man instantly.

The last assailant, realizing he was outmatched, fled, leaving the market eerily quiet once more.

Din turned to you, his helmet tilting as he took in your crumpled form.

“You’re hurt,” he said, his voice tight.

“I’m fine,” you lied, wincing as you tried to sit up.

“You’re not fine.” He was already kneeling beside you, his gloved hands hovering uncertainly before settling on your arm. “Why didn’t you stay behind cover?”

You glanced at Grogu, who was peering out of his pod with a worried expression. “I couldn’t let them hurt him,” you said simply.

Din was silent for a moment, his grip on your arm tightening slightly. Then, without a word, he scooped you up, carrying you as if you weighed nothing.

“Din—”

“Quiet,” he interrupted, his voice softer now but still firm. “We’re leaving.”

Grogu’s pod floated along beside him as he carried you back toward the Razor Crest, his stride purposeful.

Back on the ship, Din set you down carefully on the small cot in the corner of the hull. He moved with an efficiency that spoke of experience, pulling out a medkit and sitting beside you.

“Let me see,” he said, gesturing to your side.

“I told you, I’m fine—”

“Let me see,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You sighed, relenting as you pulled up your shirt to reveal the bruises blooming across your ribs. Din’s hands stilled for a moment before he reached out, his touch surprisingly gentle as he examined the injury.

“You’re reckless,” he said quietly, though there was no anger in his voice—only something softer, something you couldn’t quite name.

“You’re one to talk,” you muttered, earning a faint huff of amusement from him.

His gloved fingers lingered on your skin for a moment longer than necessary before he pulled away, reaching for a bacta patch. As he applied it, you noticed how careful he was, as if he was afraid of hurting you.

“Why would you do that?” he asked suddenly, his voice low.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Do what?”

“Put yourself in danger like that.”

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “Because I care about him. About both of you.”

Din stilled, his helmet tilted down toward you. You couldn’t see his face, but you felt the intensity of his gaze all the same.

“You didn’t have to,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

“I did,” you said softly. “I’d do it again if I had to.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then, slowly, Din reached up and rested his gloved hand on top of yours.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice filled with a depth of emotion you hadn’t heard before.

Later, you sat on the cot in the hull, your back pressed against the cool metal wall, a blanket wrapped loosely around your shoulders. The dull ache in your ribs had subsided slightly thanks to the bacta patch Din applied earlier, but the events of the day lingered like a storm cloud in your mind.

Grogu sat beside you on the cot, cooing softly as he fiddled with the shiny orb you'd given him earlier. Every now and then, he glanced up at you, his wide, soulful eyes filled with concern. You stroked the soft fuzz on his head absentmindedly, letting his quiet presence soothe you.

The sound of heavy footsteps broke your reverie. Din emerged from the cockpit, his armor catching the dim light as he made his way toward you. He stopped a few paces away, his helmet tilted slightly downward, as if he were unsure how to approach.

“You should be resting,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

“I’m fine,” you replied, though you knew the strain in your voice betrayed you.

“You’re not,” he said, taking another step closer. He gestured to the bruises on your side. “That’s going to take time to heal. You should stay off your feet for a while.”

“And what about you?” you countered, raising an eyebrow. “When’s the last time you rested?”

He didn’t answer, his helmet tilting slightly as if to avoid your gaze.

“Exactly,” you said, shaking your head. “Don’t lecture me about rest when you’re just as bad at it.”

Din sighed, the sound soft but unmistakable. He stepped closer, lowering himself onto the bench across from you. For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the hum of the ship filling the space between you.

“Why did you do it?” he asked suddenly, breaking the quiet. His voice was steady, but there was something beneath it—something raw.

“Do what?” you asked, though you already knew the answer.

“Put yourself in danger for him. For us.”

You glanced down at Grogu, who was now chewing on the edge of the blanket draped over your lap. “Because I care,” you said simply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Din didn’t respond right away. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His helmet was angled toward the floor, but you could feel the weight of his gaze even if you couldn’t see his eyes.

“I’ve seen people do reckless things for credits, for revenge, for power,” he said slowly. “But you… You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t even think about yourself.”

“I thought about Grogu,” you said, your tone firmer now. “And about you. I couldn’t just sit back and let something happen to either of you.”

His shoulders stiffened slightly, and you wondered if you’d said too much. But then he spoke again, his voice softer this time.

“You could’ve been killed.”

“I know.”

“And you’d do it again.”

It wasn’t a question, but you nodded anyway. “I would.”

Din leaned back against the wall, his gloved hands resting on his thighs. He stayed silent for a long moment, the tension in the air thick enough to cut.

“You shouldn’t have to,” he said finally, his voice barely audible.

You frowned, tilting your head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“It’s my job to protect him,” he said, his tone almost bitter. “And you. I should’ve been faster, better. You shouldn’t have had to step in.”

The guilt in his voice was palpable, and it twisted something in your chest. You leaned forward, reaching out to rest a hand on his arm.

“Din, you can’t be everywhere at once,” you said gently. “You did everything you could. You always do.”

He didn’t pull away from your touch, but his posture remained rigid. “It’s not enough,” he murmured.

“It is,” you insisted. “And even if it wasn’t, we’re a team, aren’t we? You don’t have to do everything on your own.”

He finally turned his helmet toward you, the reflective surface catching the faint light of the hull. “A team,” he repeated, as if testing the word.

“Yes,” you said firmly. “And a team watches out for each other. That’s what I was doing. Watching out for you and Grogu.”

Grogu chose that moment to coo softly, reaching out with his tiny hands to touch Din’s armored knee. The gesture seemed to break through some of the tension, and Din let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

“You spoil him,” he said, though his tone lacked any real admonishment.

“Someone has to,” you replied with a grin.

Din fell quiet again, but this time the silence felt different—less heavy, more contemplative. He reached out, gently brushing his gloved fingers over Grogu’s ear, eliciting a delighted squeal from the child.

“He cares about you,” Din said, his voice warm. “More than I’ve seen him care about anyone else.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, and you swallowed hard before answering. “I care about him, too. And you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavier than you intended. Din’s helmet tilted slightly, as if he were studying you, and your heart raced under his scrutiny.

“I know,” he said finally, his voice quiet but certain.

You blinked, unsure how to respond. Before you could say anything, Din rose to his feet, his movements fluid and deliberate. He reached out, resting a hand on your shoulder—a brief, almost hesitant gesture, but one that sent warmth spreading through you.

“Get some rest,” he said, his voice soft. “I’ll take first watch.”

“Din—”

“Please,” he added, cutting you off.

The word caught you off guard. You nodded slowly, leaning back against the cot as Grogu snuggled closer to your side. Din lingered for a moment longer before turning and walking back toward the cockpit, his steps heavy but purposeful.

As the door hissed shut behind him, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Grogu made a soft, contented sound, and you stroked his head absently, your thoughts spinning.

Din’s words echoed in your mind, mingling with the unspoken emotions you’d seen in his actions. There was something there—something deeper than duty, something neither of you were ready to name.

For now, you let it be.

Feel free to request <3

#din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin oneshot #din djarin fanfic #din djarin x reader fanfiction #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian fluff #mandalorian imagine

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mephisto-reporting · 7 months ago

Text

I Love You: Rafayel Edition

Premise:

Trope: Pure fluff Pairing: Reader x Rafayel Note: Reader and the men are NOT in a relationship. but there is implied mutual attraction.My inbox is open for prompts and requests :)

Sylus Edition | Rafayel Edition | Xavier Edition | Zayne Edition | Caleb Edition

The door to Rafayel’s art studio creaked open with a low groan, revealing the delightful chaos you’d come to expect from him. The smell of turpentine and drying paint hung in the air, mingling with the faint trace of his cologne, still clinging to the fabric of his draped coats scattered across the furniture. Brushes were strewn across the floor like forgotten soldiers, and streaks of bright reds, blues, and golds marred every surface they could reach. His easel stood near the large bay window, bathed in the warm light of the setting sun, but the canvas was blank—typical.

Your lips curved into a fond smile as you carefully balanced the takeaway bag in your hands, its fragrant contents filling the room with the rich aroma of saffron butter lobster, a delicacy Rafayel adored. You'd made the extra effort to get it from his favorite little corner bistro across town, knowing how particular he was about its preparation. You could almost taste it yourself, though you knew the real joy would come when you saw his face light up in surprise. The food was just the excuse; it was your way of showing you cared, in the only way you knew how.

Everything about this place felt so distinctly him: vibrant, alive, chaotic—and somehow, it always made your heart feel at ease. On days when the world seemed too heavy, when exhaustion clung to your bones like a second skin, or even on days when your heart was full to bursting with happiness, this was where you found yourself.

“Rafayel!” you called, your voice carrying through the disarray.

There was no response at first, just the faint rustling of papers somewhere deeper in the studio. Then, a muffled voice, drowsy and half-hearted: “Mmm… what is it? Just leave it on the counter…”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped you. “You know, one of these days, I’m going to walk in and find you buried under all this paint,” you muttered, mostly to yourself, as you set the bag on the counter in the tiny kitchen space, careful not to knock over an open jar of brushes.

You made your way toward his bedroom, following the source of his sleepy mumblings. The door was slightly ajar, and when you pushed it open, your heart stuttered in your chest.

There he was, curled up under a rumpled duvet, his face half-buried in the pillow, soft wavy locks falling haphazardly across his forehead. He looked peaceful, his usual sharp edges smoothed out in the quiet vulnerability of sleep. The rise and fall of his chest was steady, rhythmic, lulling you into a moment of stillness. Your heart gave a little lurch, and your fingers twitched with the need to touch him, to just feel close to him for a second. You slowly crossed the room, the soft creak of the floorboards under your feet the only sound in the otherwise silent room. Rafayel didn’t stir, still lost in the depths of his sleep.

“Rafayel,” you whispered gently, your voice barely above a breath, not wanting to disturb the peaceful moment too harshly. He didn’t respond. Not even a slight shift in his posture. He was deep in sleep, completely oblivious to the world around him.

You crouched beside the bed, your hand hovering above his arm, hesitating for just a moment before you placed it gently on his shoulder. The warmth of his skin radiated beneath the fabric of his shirt, and your heart skipped a beat at the feel of him—so close, so tangible. Your touch was soft, just a light shake, meant to wake him without startling him too much.

But still, he didn’t wake. He just shifted slightly, mumbling something incoherent, his voice thick with sleep. You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips as you watched him, your heart swelling in your chest. This was him. Carefree, a little bratty, but so easy to fall for. Even when he was asleep, you could see that side of him that you adored so much—the part of him that no one else saw.

“Rafayel,” you repeated, a little more insistently this time, brushing a strand of his hair away from his face as you leaned down slightly. His features softened in his sleep, and for a moment, you simply watched him, breathing in the quiet, wishing you could keep him here, in this moment, forever.

He remained blissfully unaware, sinking deeper into his cocoon of blankets, a faint sigh escaping his lips. You huffed a quiet laugh, feeling the corners of your eyes prickle with emotion. The intimacy of the scene, the quiet domesticity of it, filled you with an aching sort of joy and longing.

You really were in love with him.

And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. The words tangled themselves in your throat, caught between fear and hope. What if he dismissed it with one of his trademark teasing quips? Or worse, what if he didn’t feel the same way?

But as you sat there, watching him sleep so peacefully, you couldn’t help but wonder—what if he did?

Sighing lightly, you shifted closer and sat at the edge of the bed, carefully brushing your fingers along his cheek. The familiar feeling of his soft skin, the heat of his presence even in sleep, made your chest tighten. You found yourself gazing at him, heart aching with the truth you hadn’t yet dared to voice.

This was it, wasn’t it? This was the moment. The moment you had been waiting for, even though it scared you.

You hadn’t planned for it. The words hadn’t been rehearsed in your mind, but they slipped out anyway, so natural and so real, as if they had always been waiting to be said.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice barely audible, yet full of every emotion you had kept hidden for so long.

The words hung in the air, soft as the warm glow of the setting sun that filtered through the cracks in the blinds. I love you. The phrase had slipped from your lips almost without thinking, like it was always meant to be said in that moment. But as soon as they left you, your heart thudded in your chest, as if it recognized the enormity of the confession you had just made.

Your breath caught in your throat as a wave of panic washed over you. Had he heard? Had you really just said it out loud? The room suddenly felt too small, too intimate, as if the walls were pressing in, waiting for him to react.

You stood up quickly, a quiet flush creeping up your neck as you considered leaving the room before he could tease you about it—before the reality of your feelings could settle in. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but the last thing you anticipated was the sudden, sharp tug on your wrist.

With a startled yelp, you were pulled back onto the bed, landing softly on the plush duvet. A laugh—half playful, half lazy—escaped from Rafayel’s lips as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you snugly against him. His warmth enveloped you instantly, and his body pressed close behind you as he spooned you, his breath hot against your neck.

Your heart raced in your chest, pounding like a drum as your mind scrambled to catch up. He heard.

“I heard that,” he said, his voice low and controlled, a smirk lacing his words. There was no teasing, no mockery, just the barest trace of something... softer. “You… love me.”

You tried to pull away, your chest tightening, but his arm was an unyielding weight, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. His fingers tightened around your wrist, holding you gently but firmly against him.

You froze, your heartbeat echoing in your ears as your skin prickled with both warmth and nervousness. You hadn’t thought he had heard it, not with how quiet it had been, how small your voice had been. You swallowed, unsure of what to say.

"Y-you were dreaming," you muttered, though it didn’t sound convincing even to your own ears.

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent shivers through you. The next words that left his mouth were not teasing, not playful, but serious—intentional. "Then why does your heart feel like a fish swimming away in a current?"

The question was simple, but it made you freeze, your breath hitching as the truth of your feelings settled like a heavy weight in your chest. You couldn’t deny it. Not to him. Not anymore.

Before you could respond, his arm wrapped around you more tightly, pulling you closer until you could feel the steady beat of his heart against your back. His face pressed into your hair, his breath warm against your scalp as he inhaled deeply, as if memorizing your scent.

He stayed there for a long moment, his body a comforting, grounding presence behind you. Then, with a soft, almost playful command, he spoke again.

“Say it again,” he whispered, his voice a little rough. “Say it again. I want to be sure.”

Your pulse raced. This was real now. There was no going back. His words, his presence, made the room feel smaller, but somehow safer, as if the world outside didn’t matter at this very moment.

You inhaled shakily, turning your head slightly to meet the fabric of the pillow, and in a breathless whisper, you said it again.

“I love you.”

The words felt different this time—stronger, more sure. As soon as they left your lips, you felt his arms tighten around you, pulling you into his chest as if he never wanted to let go. He buried his face in your hair once more, his lips brushing against your ear.

"It took you long enough to admit it,” he teased, his voice laced with a bratty affection. “I’ve been waiting to hear that, you know."

You laughed softly, a nervous, relieved sound that trembled at the edges, but his tone shifted, the playfulness slipping away. His voice dropped to something much softer, much deeper, as he whispered against your ear. "But I've been waiting to hear that... for so long. Waiting to hear you."

Your chest tightened, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, his heart steady and strong beneath you. “I love you too, so so much. You have no idea the things I would do for you... to keep you like this., in my arms.” he said, so quietly, as though he hadn’t said it out loud for fear of it being taken away, yet there was no doubt in his voice, no hesitation.

You didn’t know how long the silence stretched between you, but it felt like time itself had slowed to a crawl. The only sound in the room was the rhythm of your breathing, and the sound of your two hearts beating in perfect harmony, as if they had always been meant to beat together.

But you shifted, just a little, as if instinctively trying to move, to pull away—something in you telling you to give him space, even though you didn’t want to. He wasn’t having it.

"I’m not letting you go anywhere, cutie…" Rafayel murmured, his voice low and possessive. You were about to protest, to say something, but before you could, he tugged you even closer, trapping you against him, his arm locking around you like a vice. You felt a surge of warmth sweep through you, a sudden softness, and his voice came again, teasing, but this time with a gentle, almost adoring lilt.

"You can be my plushie for tonight," he said, a playful, lazy grin creeping into his tone, even though the words were laced with the kind of affection you rarely saw from him. "And the next night...and the night after...and forever more."

You didn’t argue. You didn’t want to. For tonight, for as long as this moment lasted, you could stay here, wrapped in his warmth, his scent, his arms.

And as you settled back against his chest, your heart still fluttering, you knew, with complete certainty, that this was exactly where you were supposed to be.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Sylus Edition | Rafayel Edition | Xavier Edition | Zayne Edition | Caleb Edition

#love and deepspace #lads #lads rafayel #lnds rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #lads drabble #l&ds rafayel #l&ds #rafayel #oneshotswithlina #rafayel l&ds #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x you #rafayel oneshot #rafayel fluff #rafayel fanfic #reader x rafayel

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svt-luna · 4 months ago

Text

𝜗℘ MOONSTRUCK

❛ 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘬. 𝘰𝘩, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘨𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺. 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦, 𝘧𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯, 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺. 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸— 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘤𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘺. ❜

timeline: 2022

synopsis: Jeonghan’s life had always been filled with quiet realizations about Luna— the way he loved her, the way she changed him— but nothing struck him harder than the moment he knew, with unwavering certainty, that he wanted to marry her.

wc: 5.2k

warnings: heavy narrations!, cursing, fluff, slight angst?, established relationship, slight suggestiveness, pda, flirting, lovey dovey type shit, Jeonghan the simp, Jeonghan’s pov, realizations, fluff, fluffiness galore, Luna through Jeonghan’s eyes, tooth-rotting fluff, prepare to feel single

there will be references to my one-shots If Only, Can I Be Him?, Talking To The Moon & His English Love Affair. so if you haven’t read those yet, i advice you do so in that order to understand certain references. just a heads up, this one-shot in general is narration heavy— so if you are not into that then this is not for you. happy reading, my loves 💛

wrote this in a plane btw so i was lowkey out of it 😖 anywho… i am currently in nyc with the fam for a little vacay moment!! (where are all my nyc babies?). but do not worry i will still be updating you, my lovelies 💕💕💕

also— Moonstruck has to be one of my favorite enhypen song, so please listen to it whilst reading 😩

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

Yoon Jeonghan had a lot of realizations in his life.

Some came quietly, like the way water gradually soaks into dry earth— soft, subtle, and almost imperceptible. Others hit him with the force of a summer storm, striking through him like lightning until he was left with no choice but to accept whatever truth had settled into his bones.

And as he looked back over the years, he realized that most of these moments, these slow burns and sudden epiphanies, had something to do with her.

Luna.

Or perhaps he should say Bae Jiyeon, the name he had first known her by, the girl who had once been nothing more than a fleeting, half-formed thought in his mind, an image that lingered for days on end, until it somehow grew into something far more potent than he could have ever anticipated.

He could still remember that first day, as if he were sixteen again and stepping into the PLEDIS practice room. It was the place where dreams were shaped and shattered, where sweat and sore muscles were the only constants in a world of shifting goals and ambitions.

He’d barely been a trainee himself for long, only beginning to understand the rigor and relentlessness that defined their lives. But then, she walked in— young, pale, her figure petite yet carrying an unexpected intensity that captured his attention before he even realized he’d been looking.

At first glance, she seemed worlds apart from everyone else.

The other trainees around him had a raw eagerness, a nervous energy that crackled in the air, almost tangible as they lined up, shuffled from one end of the room to the other, and followed orders.

But she…she was different.

She wore all black, from her fitted pants to the leather jacket draped over her shoulders like armor. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, catching the light as it swayed with her every movement, and her gaze was fixed straight ahead, cool and detached.

There was something fierce in the way she held herself, head high and shoulders squared, as though she were bracing against an invisible force. She looked strong, resilient, like she had already fought battles the rest of them couldn’t even imagine.

But there was something else, too— something Jeonghan noticed as he studied her face more closely.

Beneath that hardened exterior, there was a glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes, a subtle flicker of doubt that softened the edges of her seemingly unbreakable facade.

It was a vulnerability he hadn’t expected, and somehow, it made her even more striking.

Jeonghan remembered feeling oddly compelled, even captivated, by the sight of her. He didn’t know her name, didn’t know anything about her, but there was something about her presence that lingered with him throughout the day, like the haunting melody of a song he couldn’t quite remember.

Later, as he stood off to the side with Joshua, he found himself mentioning her in an offhanded way, trying to sound casual, even though his mind had been drifting back to her constantly since she’d arrived. “I met a pretty girl today,” he’d said, almost as if the words slipped out before he could hold them back.

He remembered the slight grin Joshua gave him, the amused raise of his eyebrow, the way he nudged him teasingly. But Jeonghan had only shrugged, though his heart beat a little faster just thinking about her.

“I still don’t know her name. I’ve seen her a few times… she’s really pretty,” he admitted, not even fully understanding what that meant yet.

He didn’t know her name, her story, or anything that made up the person she was, but he felt an unexplainable urge to be near her, to talk to her, to unravel the mystery she seemed to embody. He’d even mentioned wanting to sing a song for her— an impulsive thought, one that made Joshua laugh, but Jeonghan had meant it.

It was as if his heart had started composing its own melody, one that was meant just for her, even though he barely knew her.

Looking back, Jeonghan realized he had a crush.

Something innocent and admiring, a quiet kind of admiration that made him feel like he was sixteen and stumbling over emotions he hadn’t quite figured out yet. He wasn’t sure if it was her strength or that flicker of vulnerability she tried so hard to hide, but something about her had him captivated from the very first day.

She had an aura of defiance, a spark that made him want to get to know her, to be the one who could see past her armor and find the person beneath.

That day, he remembered mustering up the courage to approach her. It wasn’t like him to be shy, but something about her made his pulse race, his heart hammering in his chest as he rehearsed a casual greeting over and over in his head.

Jeonghan remembered telling himself it was no big deal, that he just wanted to be friendly, but he couldn’t ignore the way his hands felt a little clammy or the way his stomach twisted in anticipation. He walked up to her, each step making him feel strangely vulnerable, and when she looked up, her eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting anyone to approach her, least of all him.

“Hi,” he’d said, his voice somehow steady despite the nerves buzzing under his skin as he extended his hand to her. "I'm Jeonghan. What's your name?"

She looked at him, still wide-eyed, and for a brief moment, he thought she might brush him off or walk away. But then she spoke, her voice low and soft, and it was the first time he heard her name slip from her lips— Jiyeon.

"I... I'm Jiyeon," she had managed to say, her voice uncharacteristically small but she added, almost as an afterthought, “Or Luna... you can also call me Luna."

"Jiyeon or Luna," Jeonghan repeated, his smile widening. "Welcome. If you need anything, just let me know."

And with that, she became more than just a pretty girl in black.

She was Luna.

Jeonghan had never forgotten that first meeting.

There was something about it that had lodged itself deep in his memory, a tiny fragment of time that somehow held more weight than it should have.

And from that moment on, Jeonghan knew he wanted her as a friend.

It wasn’t just a fleeting infatuation or a passing interest. He wanted to get to know her, to unravel the layers she hid behind, to be the one who could make her smile, who could coax out that side of her that didn’t need to be so guarded.

She intrigued him in a way he couldn’t quite understand, but he was certain of one thing— he wanted her in his life, and he remembered wanting to do whatever it took to make that happen.

Then years later came Luna’s drunken confession.

Jeonghan remembered that night with a clarity that was almost painful, the kind of memory that stuck to the walls of his mind, refusing to fade even as the years slipped by.

He’d never thought that a single night could shift the axis of his world, could take everything he thought he understood about himself and turn it upside down. But there it was— a confession, raw and unguarded, slipping from her lips in a haze of intoxicated vulnerability.

Luna, now his best friend, his closest confidante, the girl who had once been a stranger in a leather jacket with her chin held high, had confessed her feelings for him, and it had felt like a bolt of lightning splitting the sky.

His heart had leapt in his chest, a sudden surge of warmth spreading through him, leaving him feeling almost weightless in the moment. It was as though every small, quiet feeling he’d harbored for her over the years was suddenly brought to the surface, illuminated by her words in a way he could no longer deny.

She wanted him.

Her— Luna, fierce and proud, the girl who held her own in every room she walked into, the girl who was now his bandmate, his partner in this shared dream that they were slowly but surely achieving.

The joy he felt was electric, sharp and consuming, wrapping around him like a second heartbeat. He’d wanted her for so long, in ways he’d never fully let himself acknowledge. She was his best friend, yes, but she had become something more, slipping past every defense he’d tried to put up.

Yet, beneath that happiness, there was a clawing fear, an insidious weight pressing down on him, trying to bring him back to reality.

This was dangerous— they were dangerous.

They weren’t just Jeonghan and Luna anymore, two kids fumbling through their feelings. They were bandmates, members of the same group striving for the same goals, reaching heights together that they had once only dreamed about.

Everything they had worked for, everything they had sacrificed, was now intricately bound up in one another, in the success of the team, the harmony of the group.

If Jeonghan let himself want her, if he gave in to the feelings he had, it wasn’t just his heart at stake— it was all of them. It was the future they were building.

And the thought of jeopardizing that for his own selfish desire felt almost reckless.

Jeonghan remembered the way she’d looked at him that night, her expression raw and open, her guard completely down. He’d never seen her like that before, vulnerable in a way that made his chest ache.

And then, as the days passed, he noticed her pulling back, withdrawing in a way that felt almost calculated.

At every music show, every practice session, she managed to dodge him, carefully positioning herself on the opposite side of the room, turning her focus to anyone but him. She laughed with the others, exchanged inside jokes and friendly nudges, but when it came to him, there was a distance, a wall he could almost see growing between them. Her laughter never quite reached him, her gaze skimming over him as though he were nothing more than an afterthought.

It tore at him, that silence, the sudden shift from the closeness they’d shared to this careful, almost surgical separation. And it was in those quiet, lonely moments, watching her slip further away from him, that he realized he was willing to wait for her.

Jeonghan didn’t know how long it would take, or what it would mean for them, but he understood then that he couldn’t let her go completely. She had become too much a part of him, ingrained in his life in ways he couldn’t easily unravel.

So he held back, giving her the space she seemed to need, hoping that, in time, they would find their way back to each other.

Then came that night in the elevator, a memory that felt like a scar, a moment he would come to regret.

It was just the two of them, the air thick with an unspoken tension, the weight of their silence pressing in from all sides. He had wanted to tell her everything, to let her know that he felt it too, that he cared for her in ways that went beyond friendship, beyond the boundaries they’d so carefully constructed.

But the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, Jeonghan remembered hearing himself politely turning her down, saying things he didn’t fully believe but felt obligated to voice for the sake of professionalism, for the team, for the dream they were all chasing together.

He remembered watching as her expression shifted, her eyes widening in hurt before she blinked it away, forcing herself to remain composed.

In that small, confined space, he remembered seeing the walls going up around her, the protective armor slipping back into place.

Luna’s face was calm, expressionless, but he could see the way she clenched her fists, the slight tremor in her jaw as she forced herself to act unaffected. She gave him a nod, brushed it off as though it meant nothing, but he could see the effort it took her to hold it together. And then, as the elevator doors slid open, she bolted out, practically running down the hallway to her apartment, which was just next to his.

Jeonghan remembered standing there, frozen, watching her go, his heart sinking as he realized the magnitude of what he’d done.

Jeonghan remembered hurting her, far deeper than he’d intended, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

The next day, her eyes were red and swollen, the evidence of a night spent crying she tried to brush off with a smile, claiming it was the result of an emotional book she’d been reading. She laughed it off with the members, shrugging away their concern, but Jeonghan could see the truth in her gaze, the shadow of the pain he’d inflicted.

She avoided looking at him, her smile never quite reaching her eyes, and he felt a cold, sickening guilt settle in his chest. He had wanted to protect her, to keep their friendship intact, but instead, he’d left her hurt and alone.

It took Jeonghan a year to come to terms with it, a year of distance and polite indifference, a year of watching her laugh and live her life without him. But in that time, he realized something profound, something that had been there all along, buried under fear and caution.

Jeonghan realized he didn’t want this.

He didn’t want to keep pretending, to continue living his life as though she hadn’t become an irreplaceable part of him. She was there in his thoughts, his dreams, lingering in every quiet moment, every small ache that reminded him of what he’d let slip away.

He was done holding back, done letting his fears dictate the course of his life. He wanted her, wanted her laughter and her fire, her strength and her vulnerability. He wanted all of it, and for once, he didn’t care about the risks.

In that moment, he made a decision, one that felt as inevitable as the pull of the moon itself. He was going to make it right. He was going to show her that the feelings she had confessed, the feelings he’d once denied, were mutual.

Jeonghan was done pretending.

And with that realization, as clear and unyielding as the moonlight spilling through his window, Jeonghan realized that he loved her.

He was in love with her.

It was as simple, and as complicated, as that.

Jeonghan remembered the night they both finally snapped.

Jeonghan could remember every detail of that night, as though it had been etched into his memory with a fine-pointed needle.

The air had carried an electric charge from the start, a spark that simmered quietly beneath the laughter and celebration at Wonwoo’s birthday party. All fourteen of them were there, gathered together, lost in the rare joy of unwinding without the pressures of rehearsals, schedules, or the carefully curated masks they wore in public.

It was just them, SEVENTEEN, each one a distinct voice in a familiar chorus, but Jeonghan’s focus that night was singular— anchored on Luna.

He remembered watching her from across the room, how she moved in and out of conversations, her laughter ringing out like music against the low hum of the party.

There was something mesmerizing about the way she threw herself into the moment, like she could forget everything except the happiness of right then and there. She sang with a carefree abandon when the music started playing, her voice dipping into laughter as she pretended to hold a microphone, her eyes shining under the dim, warm glow of the lights.

Jeonghan watched her dance, free and unrestrained, her body swaying to the beat as though she were in her own world. She had this undeniable energy about her, something that seemed to draw everyone in and hold them captive, but for him, it was more than admiration.

It was longing— a deep, aching pull that seemed to only grow with each glance.

Jeonghan felt the tension winding tight in his chest as he watched her that night. She looked carefree, radiant in a way that made his heart clench, as if reminding him of every moment he’d denied himself the luxury of wanting her.

And as the night stretched on, as the party began to wind down and the others drifted off in groups or pairs, he found himself stepping forward, offering to take her home.

It wasn’t unusual— he was used to looking after her in little ways, making sure she got back safely, but this time, something felt different.

Jeonghan remembered how the air between them was charged, thick with a tension neither of them acknowledged but both seemed acutely aware of.

The car ride was quiet at first, the city lights flashing by as he drove, illuminating her face in quick bursts of neon and streetlamp glow. But beneath the silence, there was a simmering intensity, an unspoken anticipation hanging in the air.

Luna was close— closer than she’d been in what felt like an eternity, and he could feel her gaze flicking toward him, the barest hint of a smile playing on her lips. He matched her look, his eyes glinting with the same spark, the teasing edge of banter slipping naturally between them.

There was a flirtation in the air, a playful exchange that held layers beneath the surface, words that hinted at things they’d left unsaid for too long.

Jeonghan remembered feeling his restraint slipping, his usual control fraying with each passing moment. He’d spent so long keeping his feelings locked away, buried beneath friendship and professionalism, but now, sitting beside her with only the hum of the car engine and the quiet pulse of her presence, he could feel himself unraveling.

Luna was right there, just a breath away, her eyes daring him to cross the line they’d both been dancing around. His heart hammered in his chest, a steady, insistent rhythm urging him forward, and before he knew it, he was leaning in, drawn by a magnetic pull he could no longer resist.

Jeonghan remembered when their lips met, it was like a spark igniting a fuse. He remembered the sensation vividly— the warmth of her mouth against his, the softness of her lips, the way she tasted like a mixture of the wine she’d sipped, the lollipop she had been toying in her mouth, and something indescribably, unmistakably her.

It was dizzying, the kiss slow and lingering at first, each second stretching into something that felt endless.

But then, something shifted, a hunger building between them that neither seemed able to hold back. It was as if every emotion they’d kept bottled up over the years was spilling out in that one kiss, a flood of passion and longing that overwhelmed them both.

Jeonghan could feel his heart pounding, a fierce, wild beat that echoed in his ears as he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss with a desperation he hadn’t known he possessed. He felt as though he were finally breathing after holding his breath for too long, each touch, each press of her lips grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected.

In that moment, he knew, with a clarity that was almost frightening, that he never wanted this to end. He wanted to kiss her for the rest of his life, to keep her close, to feel her warmth and the undeniable spark that existed between them.

The night unfolded in a blur of whispered confessions and stolen touches, the passion between them growing with every passing moment.

They barely made it inside his apartment before they were caught up in each other again, tangled in an embrace that felt both exhilarating and terrifying in its intensity. Every touch, every look, was charged, as if they were rediscovering each other in a new, profound way.

The barriers they’d once built crumbled, leaving only raw emotion in their wake. That night, Jeonghan felt something shift within him, a realization settling deep in his chest as they finally allowed themselves to be honest about the feelings they’d both been hiding.

He remembered the way her fingers trailed along his skin, the warmth of her breath against his neck, the softness of her voice in the darkened room as they shared secrets, hopes, and fears that had once been too frightening to voice. And with each passing hour, as the night gave way to the first hints of dawn, he felt his heart bind itself to hers in a way that felt irrevocable.

By the time they fell asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms, Jeonghan knew that this wasn’t something he could ever let go of.

She was his, and he was hers.

The line had been crossed, and there was no going back.

In the quiet morning light, as he lay beside her, watching her breathe, Jeonghan felt the weight of his feelings settle over him with a certainty that was both comforting and terrifying.

Jeonghan realized, in that stillness, that he was irrevocably in love with her.

Bae Jiyeon.

Luna.

The girl who had been his best friend, his confidante, the one he’d fought so hard to deny, had become everything to him. And as he looked at her, peaceful and unguarded beside him, he knew with absolute certainty that he wanted this— wanted her.

Jeonghan had always been a man of quiet revelations, but none had struck him so powerfully as the realization that he was irrevocably in love with Luna.

It was a truth that hit him like a bolt of lightning— sudden, fierce, and undeniable.

In that instant, he understood that every fleeting moment spent admiring her, every stolen glance and every silent wish, had been building toward this overwhelming desire.

For years, he had found himself captivated by the way Luna existed in her own world, lost in thought or immersed in the simple pleasures of life, and he had admired her fiercely. He had admired her since the day they met, a silent observer of her unguarded moments, and in each one he discovered something new that only deepened his affection. Her presence was like a soft melody that played constantly in the background of his life, familiar yet always capable of stirring his soul.

That realization, though, was only the beginning.

Jeonghan recalled a night that had forever changed the course of his heart— it wasn’t a grand, orchestrated moment in a fancy setting that had brought this realization upon him— it was something far simpler and infinitely more… them.

It was in the quiet hours of the early morning, when the world was hushed and the only sounds were the occasional murmur of a movie and the soft clatter of utensils. Jeonghan remembered admiring Luna in her pajamas, not adorned in the usual splendor of stage makeup and designer outfits, but in her most natural state— bare-faced, her long black hair loosely cascading over her shoulders, and her features soft with sleep. She sat on the edge of the sofa, her eyebrows furrowed slightly and her lips puckered in a habitual pout as she muttered under her breath something about the movie they were watching.

Luna was absorbed in her own world, minding her business and enjoying a late-night snack as they watched a movie together at around three in the morning.

As Luna reached for a dumpling she’d made— a small, humble morsel meant to satisfy a midnight craving— Jeonghan, true to his mischievous nature, swooped in and took the dumpling for himself.

The act was playful, yet in that unexpected moment, as Luna paused mid-bite and glared at him with a look that combined exasperation with an undeniable hint of affection, he felt something surge within him.

Her pouted expression, the slight scrunch of her nose, the way her eyes flickered with both annoyance and longing— it was all etched into his heart like a sacred memory.

Jeonghan watched as she scolded him silently with her gaze, and even though he could not hear her words clearly over the soft hum of the TV, he knew exactly what she was saying. Luna never minded sharing food as long as she was asked; it was the abrupt, uninvited gesture that annoyed her. And yet, even as he delighted in her feigned irritation, he was overwhelmed by the sudden clarity that these simple, everyday moments— these playful battles over a single dumpling— were the very things that made him want to spend his life with her.

In that instant, as he saw the fierce, protective spark in her eyes and felt the soft pressure of her hands as she retorted silently with her gaze, Jeonghan’s heart pounded harder than ever before. He felt both physically and emotionally electrified— his pulse racing, his thoughts spiraling into a realization he could no longer ignore.

Yoon Jeonghan wanted to marry Bae Jiyeon.

Not because they were in a fancy date or a glamorous event, but because in that quiet, unguarded moment, as he watched Luna in her most authentic state, he recognized that her presence was his anchor. Her very existence, with all its flaws and beauty, was something he wanted to cherish forever.

The realization was as sudden as it was profound, a mixture of joy and a hint of self-mockery at his own spontaneity. He chuckled inwardly, marveling at how unexpectedly his heart had leaped from one simple, unadorned moment to the clarity of knowing he loved her.

It was in those vulnerable, ordinary moments— when she was just Luna, not the dazzling idol on stage— that he saw the raw truth of their bond. He knew then, unequivocally, that her soft, pouted expressions, her effortless ways of being both strong and delicate, were everything to him.

That night, as the movie played on in the background, long forgotten, Jeonghan lay with Luna curled up against his chest, her body rising and falling in the rhythm of deep, peaceful sleep. The dim glow of the television cast soft shadows across the room, flickering faintly over her face.

Even in slumber, she was breathtaking.

His arms were wrapped around her, his fingers tracing idle patterns against the fabric of her oversized pajama top, and his heart— still hammering from the realization that had struck him like a tidal wave only hours before— was struggling to calm itself.

He felt warm.

Not just in the physical sense, from the way her body pressed into his, but in the way that reached down into his very soul.

The kind of warmth that settled in his chest and refused to leave.

The kind that whispered of forever.

His thoughts were relentless, swirling around in a fervent, chaotic mess of emotions, excitement, and impatience.

He wanted to marry her.

He wanted to slip a ring onto her finger and promise her forever.

The notion should have been terrifying— the weight of such a commitment, the irreversible nature of it— but it wasn’t.

It was the easiest decision he’d ever made.

He had never been so sure of anything in his entire life. And now that he had acknowledged it, truly let it sink into his bones, he felt almost foolish for not realizing it sooner.

Of course, it had always been Luna.

Carefully, so as not to wake her, Jeonghan shifted slightly, reaching out to grab his phone from the coffee table. His movements were slow, practiced, barely disrupting the cocoon of warmth they had created together.

The screen lit up, the brightness making his eyes squint momentarily as he adjusted to the harsh glow. Without hesitation, he opened his messages, his fingers flying across the screen with a sense of urgency that had his heart racing all over again.

He created a new group chat with the members, ensuring that Luna was not included. A smirk played on his lips as he stared at the name he had given the group, amused at his own wit, but there was no time to dwell on it. His fingers moved swiftly, typing out the message that would set everything in motion.

The words stared back at him, illuminated in the soft glow of his screen, a simple sentence that carried the weight of his entire future.

There was no turning back now, not that he wanted to.

He pressed send, his heart giving an erratic thump as the message disappeared into the ether.

The thought of what was to come filled him with a strange mix of anticipation and serenity. It was only a matter of time now. A matter of time before he found the perfect ring. Before he planned the perfect moment. Before he knelt before Luna with his heart laid bare and asked the only question that had ever truly mattered.

It was only a matter of time before Jeonghan made her his forever.

Jeonghan, who Luna had once taught to talk to the moon, used to whisper to it about her— about the girl who had turned his world on its axis, about the love that had bloomed in his heart like an unstoppable force.

Night after night, the biggest little thing in the sky had been his silent witness, watching as he reached for the stars, for her. And now, as he lay beside her, his future crystallizing in his mind, he realized the stars had always been reaching back.

Because the moon, in all its quiet brilliance, had given him a piece of its own light— Luna.

His Luna.

The one who had become his universe.

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