#It changed in a way i never expected but really enjoyed

[kunareads]

if i believe you | chapter four

draw me after you

clan head!satoru x reader

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wc: 3.4k

content: i ended up splitting this chapter because i think this amount of fluff needs room to breathe (and reader deserves good things and happy feelings). please enjoy because next chapter will not be nearly as happy and soft as this!

INTERACT HERE FOR TAGLIST!

18+ please <3

your garden feels wild in the evening. leaves spill over a stone pathway as vines climb the trellises, threading through gaps like they want to swallow them whole.

you’re in the grass, legs folded beneath you, hands resting in your lap. satoru found you out here not too long ago and sat across from you, his back pressed against the trunk of a tree, limbs sprawled out and occupying as much space as possible.

“what’s your favorite time of day?” he asks, breaking the quiet.

you glance at him, hesitant, but his expression is expectant. “late at night.”

he quirks a brow in amusement. “didn’t take you for a troublemaker.”

you shake your head lightly. “i just like when everything’s quiet.”

there’s a pause, and then he says, “your turn,” with a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “i asked you a question, now you get to ask me one.”

you hesitate. you certainly have questions, but you’re not sure they fit in this conversation. so you go with the safest one you can find.

“your favorite time of day?”

“sunrise.”

that surprises you. “why?”

he shrugs, still playing with the earth. “feels like i have the whole world to myself.”

you try to picture him that way—alone at dawn, the world still sleeping. maybe it suits him. an hour or two at peace before anyone can demand anything of him.

“i think we’re opposites, then,” you say. “you like the start of things, i like the end.”

his expression softens. “guess that just means we have the whole day covered.”

you smile at that, and the conversation drifts from there. favorite snacks. the worst places you’ve slept. things you could live without forever, and the things you never want to lose.

you don’t know when it happens, but you stop measuring your words. the hesitation is still there, but it’s smaller.

“what’s something you’ve always wanted to try?” he asks.

“travel. i’ve never been anywhere.”

his brows furrow. “not even once?”

“never.”

he hums, thoughtful. “well, we have to change that.”

you glance at him, trying to gauge if he’s joking. but he’s watching you with that same softness, the words hovering like he’s offered you an invitation you’re not sure you can reach for.

“maybe.” your voice is quieter now. “what about you?” you ask.

“scuba diving.”

the response is so immediate and so unexpected that you can’t help but smile. “you don’t seem like a scuba diver.”

he grins, feigning offense. “i can’t be adventurous?”

“i think you might be enough trouble on land.”

his laugh spills out, rich and unrestrained, making your own smile widen.

the conversation shifts again, like neither of you want to linger on anything that requires too much thought. you find yourself telling him about your family. descriptions come slowly, like you’re not even sure what you’re trying to say.

your father, strict but steadfast. a leader in the only way he knew how. discipline over affection, standards over kindness. his love was earned.

your mother, obedient and devoted. loving in the way she was taught to be. her affection was careful, measured—delivered only when you met expectations and rationed to avoid spoiling you.

their approval was the closest thing to love you’ve ever really felt, and you became very good at earning it. good at keeping yourself small and quiet, at doing what you were told, at following rules so well they’d never have to doubt you.

you don’t realize how much you’re saying until you realize how much satoru is listening. it’s almost unnerving, the way he just lets you speak without steering the conversation where he wants it to go. like he’s content to let you lead, to study your words.

“i miss it, sometimes,” you admit quietly. the words feel like they’ll shatter if you say them too loud.

he doesn’t respond right away, but you can feel his attention locked onto you.

“and the parts you don’t miss?”

you go silent.

you’ve never considered it before. never even thought to split your memories into good and bad, wanted and unwanted. you don’t have an answer because you’ve never looked for one.

satoru doesn’t press. he just watches, waiting to see if you’ll find the words or if you still need time to understand it.

“i don’t think i could’ve survived in your house.” he shifts, stretching his arms behind his head. “i used to get in trouble all the time.”

“not surprising,” you reply.

he grins. “i would skip classes with my friends. sneak off, cause way too much destruction on missions—oh, and pissing off the old guys in charge. that was my specialty.”

“sounds irresponsible.”

“that was the point.”

you think he sounds kind of sad. the way he talks about it, all reckless charm and nostalgia, feels unfinished—like he’s trying not to remember something he didn’t mean to miss.

you unfold your legs, stretching them out in front of you. the air is cooling now, and you listen to the sound of the trees, let it fill the silence where words go. satoru’s gaze slides over you, something almost careful in the way he’s watching. like he’s trying to take you in without crowding you.

you swallow. “do you… miss them? your friends?”

the question feels fragile. out of place. he considers you for a moment, and you can’t tell if you’ve overstepped. but he lifts his brows like you’ve just asked him something fascinating. he’s not smiling, but he’s not frowning either.

“yeah. sometimes.” the answer is casual, but there’s rawness there. “one of them still works at the school. maybe you can meet her sometime.”

it’s quiet for a while. he shifts, his leg resting near yours. “what about you?” he asks. “what’s something you miss?”

he’s watching you now, and there’s something in his eyes that makes you feel like the truth is the only acceptable answer.

“i—” your sentence falters as you sort through the increasingly tangled mess in your head. “i miss… feeling sure of myself.”

it feels wrong when you say it. wrong but true, scraping against something raw, bleeding from some unidentified wound.

“i always knew what was expected of me,” you continue. “i knew what i was supposed to be. even if it wasn’t… easy, it made sense.”

“and now?” it’s quiet, not demanding. an invitation to admit something you’ve been trying not to acknowledge. it makes you want to keep talking.

“now…” you draw in a slow breath. “now i don’t know if i’m doing anything right.”

he’s silent for a moment. not because he doesn’t care, but because the admission hits something in him that he can’t understand.

it feels wrong to him that you’re questioning yourself at all. like you’ve been taught to doubt yourself so deeply that the smallest gesture of ease feels like rebellion. it makes him want to fix it, somehow.

“i think you’re doing fine,” he says eventually. the words are so casual, but they leave a warmth in your chest. “more than fine, actually.”

it’s not the kind of reassurance you’re used to. you glance at him, something small and shy curling in your chest. it’s not a compliment, not really. it’s just the way he says it. like a simple, sudden truth.

the coolness of the night settles in as the sky darkens. you feel more aware of the ground beneath you, the roughness of the grass, the warmth that radiates off of satoru.

“what was your favorite part of being a kid?” he asks, his voice lightening again, a lifeline out of the heaviness.

it feels safe, easier than his other questions. your fingers trace absent shapes against your lap, the motion soothing. “being outside. my mother kept a garden, and i would help her sometimes. picking herbs, planting new seeds.”

“your mother taught you to garden?” he asks.

“sort of.” you pause, the memory slipping free. “she taught me to do things properly. but i liked the parts where she wasn’t paying attention. when i could just do everything how i wanted.” it feels like too much, like you’re giving away something intimate. you look away, eyes falling to the tangled mess of greenery. “it was different, the way she did things. her garden was perfect.”

satoru follows your gaze, picking a dandelion near your foot. “and this?” he gestures to the wilderness surrounding you. “this is you doing things how you want?”

“i think so.”

his smile is soft. “good.”

something relaxes in your chest. “what about you?” you ask, trying to pull the attention away from yourself. “what was your favorite part of being a kid?”

he pauses. “getting away with murder. figuratively. mostly.”

you snort before you can stop yourself. the sound bubbles out of you like a hiccup, breaking the quiet in a way that feels almost obscene.

his laugh follows yours, pleased and unrestrained, proud of himself for bringing that out of you. “what? it was fun.”

“i’m sure.” you can’t keep the amusement of your voice. something about him, so shameless and unapologetic, makes your own hesitation feel ridiculous. he grins, and for a moment, there’s nothing between you but the hum of the garden.

but then he says, “you do that a lot,” almost to himself. you wonder if he meant to say it out loud.

“do what?” you ask, already feeling your shoulders stiffen.

“wait before you speak.” his fingers play idly with the dandelion he picked earlier. “like you’re checking to see if you’re allowed to answer.”

the words don’t hit particularly hard, but they find something tender. something you didn’t know was there until he pressed against it. “i…” you stop. inhale. “i didn’t realize i was doing that.”

“lemme guess.” his voice is low, playful, but not fully. “a lady doesn’t interrupt?”

your lips press together, your gaze falling to your hands. the truth feels too obvious. of course he’s right. he usually is, and maybe you’re starting to think it’s a little irritating.

“it’s polite,” you say finally, the words small. brittle.

“yeah?” his voice is soft, the usual teasing smoothed out. “bet i’d give your mother a heart attack.”

the laugh escapes before you can swallow it down. you’re not sure what it says about you, that you’re laughing at something like this. maybe that’s why it feels like something worth hiding, but you can’t.

and satoru’s grin is immediate. broad and satisfied, like he’s won something. like he’s going to keep winning.

he’s proud of himself for making you laugh, you realize. and that’s… comforting? confusing?

you shake your head, but you don’t correct him. because maybe she would hate him. and for the first time ever, you don’t care. it sits in your chest, unfamiliar, like something you shouldn’t touch but reach for anyway.

+++

satoru is the one who suggested snacks, but not because he was hungry. he just wasn’t ready for the closeness to end.

the air outside had felt light, easy. something about you letting your guard down, even a little, made him want to keep the moment going. so he led you inside, playing it off with a careless grin and a lazy stretch of his arms.

“wait here,” he’d said, flashing you a smile before wandering off toward the kitchen. “be back in a second.”

the fact that you didn’t immediately make some polite excuse to leave didn’t go unnoticed. so he gathered whatever snacks he could find, anticipation growing in his chest. he felt like a teenager with a crush.

now, he finds you in the small sitting area off the main hall—a cozy, quiet space that feels far removed from the rest of the house. a low table with cushions around it, the soft glow of lanterns painting the room in amber.

you look less guarded than usual, like something from before still hasn’t settled back into place. it’s something he’d like to see more of.

“i think the staff have been moving things around to mess with me,” he says as he slides down next to you, a tray of fruit and cookies in one hand. “they can’t outsmart me though.”

he’s rewarded with the faintest twitch of your lips.

he sets the tray in front of you and leans back, watching you reach for a piece of fruit with more hesitance than he’d like.

he’s talking just to keep you there, rambling about the kitchen staff and their obsession with organizing things to the point of madness. you respond, sometimes with words, sometimes with a hum of acknowledgement. but you’re not withdrawing.

he bites into a cookie he doesn’t even want, pretending not to notice the way you move, the way your gaze keeps flickering toward him. it’s only when he shifts to make himself more comfortable that his fingers brush yours on the cushions. a light touch, nothing worth noticing—except that you both do.

the words between you taper off until the quiet feels charged. he notices the way you look at him, how your gaze lingers a little too long before you look away, then back again. like you’re searching for something you can’t quite find.

you’re closer now than you were a moment ago. he’s sure of it.

“didn’t think you’d actually wait for me,” he says. it’s meant to sound playful, but it comes out too soft.

you blink, the faintest hint of confusion flitting across your expression. “you told me to.”

“yeah, but—” he pauses, his finger tracing a line over yours on the cushion. “you could’ve just said you were tired and called it a night.”

your eyes lower, like you’re deciding what to say to that. or if you’re supposed to say anything at all.

“maybe i wasn’t ready to say goodnight.”

the words are so quiet he almost thinks he imagined them. but the way you say it, soft and uncertain, makes something in his chest unwind. his gaze fixes on you now with something he’s not sure he wants to name. something that feels tender and reckless and good.

you’re looking at him like you’re waiting for him to do something. maybe you don’t even realize it, but he certainly does.

he leans in, just enough to see if you’ll flinch, if you’ll draw back into the shell you’ve been living in since your wedding. but you don’t. if anything—if his eyes don’t deceive him—you shift a little closer.

“you know,” his voice comes out lower than he intended. “you’re really bad at pretending you’re not looking at me.”

your face immediately heats up. you don’t deny it. he grins, but it feels more like an admission than a joke. “it’s okay. i’m looking at you, too.”

there’s something so simple about the statement. so stupidly honest. it’s like he’s daring himself to say what he’s been circling around for days.

“you gonna let me kiss you, angel?”

it’s only half-serious. satoru expects you to tense up, to blink at him with that same guarded look you always have when he teases you.

but you’re looking at him without a hint of protest.

“yeah?” he whispers.

you nod. just barely, but it’s enough. he leans in before his stomach can do another somersault.

it’s nothing. a brush of his mouth against yours, enough to test the waters, to feel the warmth of your lips before he pulls back to gauge your reaction. your eyes are wide, but your shoulders are relaxed, your breathing steady, even if it’s a little too careful.

he lingers there, trying to make sense of what you’re feeling—and what he’s feeling. he’s more intentional about this than he’s ever been about anything.

but there’s nothing in your expression that tells him you’re afraid, so he leans in again.

it’s deeper this time. still careful, but not hesitant. his lips press more firmly against yours, his head tilting slightly to see how much you’re willing to give. to see if you’ll give him more.

his hand moves on instinct, fingers lifting to cradle your jaw. the touch is gentle, the pressure light, like he’s scared you’ll break if he moves too quickly.

you don’t break. you let him kiss you, mirroring his movements as best you can. like you’re learning what it feels like to want something. realization settles.

this isn’t pressure. it’s not something you have to endure. it’s something you’re allowed to explore.

he pulls back, but only just. he’s close enough to see the way your lips part, like you’re trying to find the right words and coming up empty. you’re looking at him like you’re not sure what happened.

and then your hand moves.

it feels like a second-guess even as you’re doing it, your hand as shaky as your breath. your fingers brush against his jaw and settle on his cheek, the contact so light that it’s almost not there.

he looks at you with fascination, his gaze dropping to your mouth. and then, slowly, your thumb traces over his bottom lip. just once—more curious than anything.

something inside him stutters. for once, you’re asking him for something.

you’re the one who leans in this time.

your mouth presses against his, clumsy but sure. you kiss him with the kind of caution that makes him want to ruin you, just to see what you’d look like with that gentleness stripped away.

but he stays soft, pliant. lets you take what you want, even if you’re not sure what that is.

without meaning to, you notice things. the way his hand feels against your face, the small, idle circles he traces over your skin, the slight part of his lips. he’s careful and patient and it makes you want to thank him. your chest feels tight, your heartbeat skipping. you’re not sure what you’re supposed to feel right now, but you know you don’t want this to end.

the feel of your mouth against his is something satoru knows he won’t be able to forget. he’s already dreading the fact that he doesn’t know when you’ll let him do this again.

he deepens the kiss, just slightly. not aggressive, not demanding. it’s just… more. his fingers move up from your jaw and into your hair, the touch soothing you.

you realize with startling clarity that you want him. that you want him to keep kissing you. and it knocks the air out of you, because wanting something isn’t something you should to do. want feels like an admission of need.

when he breaks the kiss, his lips don’t go far. they trail to the corner of your mouth, tracing a path over your cheek, then lower, grazing along the line of your jaw.

it’s… too much. but not how you’d expected. not in a way that feels wrong, not in a way that hurts. it’s warm, real, and your chest feels like it’s going to collapse.

it’s not until his lips brush against the spot just beneath your jaw, where your pulse flutters a little too fast, that you gasp. it’s small, but it feels raw and unfamiliar. like something stolen from a part of you that you weren’t ready to acknowledge.

he feels it before you do. the way your shoulders go rigid, as if your own reaction is something you need to hide.

then you pull away.

he doesn’t chase you. just watches as you blink, like you’re trying to wake yourself up from a dream you didn’t mean to fall into. your eyes are wide, your breathing shallow, but you’re not scared. you’re just… startled.

he’s bracing for your apology, for you to retreat into reservation. he’s about to say something—anything to break the tension that’s suddenly wrapped itself around you—when you smile.

small at first, a hint of warmth, something shy. then wider, brighter. like you’re trying to convince yourself that this is real and not imagined. it feels like something he’s not supposed to see.

“okay?” he asks.

you shake your head, exhaling like you can’t believe yourself. “that was nice.”

he watches you a moment longer, his lips twitching. the way you’re looking at him makes him feel like he’s finally done something important.

“yeah?”

you nod, hugging your knees. your cheeks are flushed, your hands trembling slightly. but you look happy.

he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. and then he grins, something easy and genuine spilling across his face. “guess i did something right, then.”

you laugh, and the sound is real.

[alexanderlightweight]

Hi Lumine! I’ve always wanted to send a prompt but never had any ideas I liked. But I was thinking about your ‘the bitter trap of truth’ verse and love the concept but then I was like you know what would be fun? if Alec was actually trying to kill him but like more as a way to get his attention? And everyone is like Magnus this shadowhunter just tried to kill you and Magnus is just like *heart eyes* and it was such a good attempt. Wherever you want to go with it really!

Nsfw/sfw

i'm so glad you took the chance and I probably had a little too much fun writing this. in my defense, Magnus is having the best time of his life and that needs to be respected.

i really hope you like it as much as I had fun writing it and enjoy <3

lumine

-

this deadly bouquet of love

”Shouldn’t you be a little more proactive,considering the Clave is actively trying to kill you?”

Ragnor loves Magnus, he truly does but it’s times like this that have him truly questioning Magnus’ lifestyle.  Purposefully baiting Clave assassins is just a bit too much, in Ragnor’s humble opinion.

“It irritates him when I go somewhere obvious, I think he feels as if I’m cheating on his behalf.” Magnus raises his glass into the air, tipping it in obvious salute in a direction that Ragnor once thought empty.  “So I thought a rooftop brunch at a fancy restaurant would be perfect.  I even rented the entire space since as much as I enjoy giving him an obstacle course, fatalities can be the worst distraction and mundanes are so clumsy.” 

“Why?” Ragnor desperately hopes that this isn’t going to go down the road he thinks it does.

“Well he has to prove his sincerity in wanting to go out with me.”  Magnus seems utterly bemused by Ragnor’s slowly increasing ire.  “If he just came up to show off his stately arms and wooed me like that, what could be said of my reputation?”

Ragnor takes a deep inhale of his pipe, refusing to even consider what kind of an answer Magnus expects given they both know exactly what Magnus’ reputation is.

“He’s not a Clave assassin at all, is he?”

Magnus’ titter filled with glee does not encourage Ragnor’s sanity at all.

“How exactly did,” here Ragnor makes a twirling motion with his hand, “whatever this is between you and a shadowhunter turn into him trying to kill you?”

“He’s going for maiming, not killing.” Magnus isn’t even trying to soothe him, the gleam in his eyes proving that he knows exactly what this is doing to Ragnor’s nerves and constitution. “Isn’t that so much better? I tried to convince him I’d take him more seriously the more deadly he tried.  However, apparently the mere idea of aiming something so accurate to my heart made him cry.”

Ragnor deeply regrets asking.

With a truly despairing sigh Magnus stares longingly in the direction of his earlier salute, “he’s so pretty when he cries. I wonder if I don’t dodge his next attack, how beautiful he’ll look after.”

Ragnor coughs and tries very hard to remind himself that while Magnus knows more than most about nephilim society and culture, it’s also outdated by anywhere from two to four hundred years.

“Duckie—” Lowering his pipe with a sigh, Ragnor looks at Magnus with tired eyes, “that kind of courting is considered rare and outdated by current standards.  Even the ones that do try to keep the traditions alive can’t keep them from being changed.  I’m fairly certain, duckie, that instead of assassination attempts they just all out brawl. Or challenge each other to demonstrations of skills.  I’m not sure your paramour quite knows what either of you are doing.  It seems to me like he’s just following your lead.”

Ragnor will later wish that he’d taken the time to keep his gaze on Magnus.  As it is, he was in the middle of re-filling his pipe bowl and missed the look of unholy and terrifying glee that crossed Magnus’ face.

—

Alec hasn’t seen a glimpse of Magnus in what feels like days.

It’s barely been a dozen hours but time apart from Magnus stretches across the divide of reality, making it pass too slowly.

It’s his own fault, however he’s hoping that at least this time, his sincerity will make it through. 

Poems written by warlocks long forgotten have been carved into the rosewood shaft of Alec’s arrows.  Each tip has been personally carved from magical gems, runes changing them from mere trinkets to artifacts.

Hopefully the reaction of passing through Magnus’ wards won’t cause these ones to explode, Magnus had sent him a rather scathing fire message after that.  Something about ‘having to hear about all the work Alec did and then not even getting to enjoy it’.

Magnus had spent seventeen hours tearing apart and relayering his wards, not to make it harder for Alec’s weapons but to keep them ‘intact enough to be saved’.

If Alec had ever been in doubt about Magnus' sincerity, it was hurriedly fed to the rabid flames of Magnus’ prideful obsession in Alec’s abilities. Alec still isn’t sure how Magnus got his number, but he can’t deny how much he enjoys waking up every afternoon to see a new picture of something Alec made on display in Magnus’ lair.  

Apparently — and while Alec is curious about reading it for himself he hasn’t had the time — trophy walls filled with courtship attempts were popular a few centuries ago.  It hadn’t really seemed all that interesting until Magnus sent him a picture, the first arrow Alec shot at him as the gleaming centerpiece of a magical sculpture.

One that Magnus had made by hand and magic, to cradle Alec’s accidental but sincere declaration of interest.

Since then, Alec has tried to be more careful and considerate of the weapons he uses to strike Magnus down with.  If these are supposed to be trophies, proud mementos to memorialize the start of their relationship, then Alec is all for it.

After he makes them perfect of course.

“What are you working on now, Alexander?”  Magnus’ voice is smooth even coming from the bluetooth Alec’s set up.

“If I tell you and they get ruined will you be more upset or less?” Alec actually wants to know, it’s important information that will affect the success and failures of his future projects. 

“Oh, so it’s for me then?”

“I’m not exactly hand-making threat displays for anyone else, Magnus.  Do you know how hard I’ve had to keep this hidden from the Clave? If we’re lucky everyone will just think I have a grudge.  A very deep grudge.” Alec really doesn’t want to be the one to explain that he’s using his personal adamas allotment to create love poems to someone he hasn’t even held hands with yet.

“Oh yes, because while the Clave will dilly-dally about one of their Commander’s trying to assassinate the local High Warlock, they’ll move rather fast when they realize it’s a traditional courtship to said warlock.” Magnus’ voice is as flat and unimpressed as any time they talk about the Clave and Alec nods, forgetting Magnus can’t see him.

“Legal loopholes and subterfuge, it’s the best way to tie them up in their own laws until it’s too late for them to do anything without breaking a bunch of their own laws.  And as you so brilliantly pointed out at me, the Clave raging bias and discrimination means that they didn’t write anything into the laws that doesn’t allow them to be used for and by downworlders.  Now we just need to get that far.”  If Alec sounds huffy then it’s entirely MAgnus’ fault.  They could have been official weeks ago, but as a warlock who hates nephilim and has lived centuries, Magnus often proves that he knows more than Alec about his people's own history. 

And while he doesn’t know much about nephilim culture — he still knows more than most — and most surprising is that Magnus seems to know everything Alec doesn’t about traditional courtships.  It’s a relief because while Alec is now interested enough to look into it someday, he really doesn’t have the time to be hunting down all this information that Magnus conveniently already knows and so helpfully shares.

Still, while he does want to indulge in and respect tradition, Alec finds it harder and harder to hold his patience.

“Most courtships are accepted after the first few tries, Magnus. Among the shadowhunters I know, none of them just get a kiss on the cheek and are given pointers on ‘how to try harder’.”

“Just because I’m most willing to be caught by you doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the chase.” There’s laughter on the line and Alec can imagine how Magnus’ lips would curve in a pleased smirk, how the amusement would brighten his gold eyes.

It really is a pity that Alec can’t be there to see it.

It’s with an agreeing sigh that he  keeps his last thoughts to himself.

He knows full well that this entire venture is just a game to Magnus. It’s not that Magnus is playing with Alec, but they’re both playing with the Clave in a way.  The minute Magnus gets bored Alec will no longer be after Magnus.  

He will just be had.  

By Magnus.

Despite knowing that he’s on the losing side of an unwinnable game, Alec is enjoying the entirety of it. 

Even if he wants to lose a little faster.

It helps that while he may not be able to be with and next to Magnus, they do talk and often.

At the beginning it was Magnus complaining about Alec’s lack of flair, the poor quality of his weapons — not the integrity, but the design — and even the fact that Alec had the perfect opportunity to throw a knife at him and he hadn’t.

— it was because the knife was used for a far more important purpose, actually killing the Circle member behind Magnus — 

Now Magnus creates accolades for Alec’s handiwork, murmurs lilting words of wonder and admiration through the phone, all praising the craftsmanship born of Alec’s hands.

Alec is used to not winning.  

He’s accustomed to fighting as hard as he can but never being good enough even when he’s at the top.

This is different.

Perhaps for the first time in his life he doesn’t mind the looming certainty of failure.

Never before has failure been accompanied by such a sweet reward.  It’s really only Magnus’ utter fascination with nephilim courtship and then insisting he wouldn’t think Alec was serious if he didn’t do the same.

Which again, Alec really wasn’t expecting the man of his interests — a warlock with bad blood between he and Alec’s entire race let alone the tensions between Magnus and Alec’s parents — to be so interested in having Alec try and kill him.

It’s not as common as it used to be, but in some of the more strict families — those based and pledged and bred for the code of a hunter — marriage was dictated by strength even over blood ties.

Alec still isn’t sure how Magnus found out this particular courtship but he’s relieved he knew or accidentally shooting an arrow at Magnus because Alec was so overwhelmed with his beauty could have gone quite differently. 

—

Magnus was in fact playing with alec. He already won his round with the clave.

Magnus and alec are like officially betrothed and practically married just without consummation by nephilim standards and Magnus is just like: wow, being the center of Alexander’s attention and devotion is something i’m not willing to give up yet.

—

Magnus mentally: ... did he just shoot at me???

Alec outloud but thinking mentally: aklejrfklaberlhfb i didn’t mean to propose so suddenly but i have no regrets but fuck i almost hit him

Magnus: ... oh it’s that ritual.... My, my aren’t i flattered. But also if he’s going to do it, he should do it properly (magnus heard about this ritual like in its beginnings and has forgotten that with time comes change. The ritual is a lot more lax than when he learned about it. Alec is like: he’s worth the effort

—

alec: I am tired of trying to kill you to appease your fucked up sense of humor.

magnus: you enjoy my humo, Alexander

alec: NOT WHEN ITS COMPETING WITH CUDDLES. I HAVENT EVEN HELD YOUR HAND YET

magnus without even trying to pretend to be sad: oh... am I not worthy of shadowhunters sincerity, Alec?"

alec: ... i'm polishing my best throwing knives

magnus: good boy. now, I will be taking a walk in Time's Park at dusk tomorrow. Try not to miss this time darling

(the true reason behind this all)

Alec: -apologized for shooting at him because while he doesn’t regrets the intent he’s horrified at the thought of hurting magnus-

Magnus: I will never forgive him for apologizing for his proposal! the audacity of men! regretting something important the moment its done.

[winteringdream]

017. soccer confessions

previous | masterlist | next

synopsis : the girls soccer team hasn’t been doing great since the school year started. when nicholas starts taunting you about it you make a bet with him. will the two of you figure your differences out when your soccer team has to play against his?

AS you exit the changing room, hair still wet from the shower, changed back into normal clothes, you catch sight of Nicholas.

He's on his phone, leaning agains the wall. Unaware of your presence. Only when the door closes with a click does he look up from his phone.

"So, I never got to know what would happen if you won the game." you begin, walking towards him.

"Yeah, you were very confident that your team was going to win." Nicholas says with a chuckle, stuffing his phone inside his pocket. You laugh, recalling the conversation. Maybe the annoyance you had felt when betting made you a little too overconfident.

"You were just as confident," you counter, crossing your arms as you stop in front of him. "So? What is your grand prize going to be?"

Nicholas tilts his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

You roll your eyes. "That's why I asked."

He exhales a soft laugh, pushing off the wall. "Alright, fine. If I won, you’d have to treat me to canteen snacks for a month."

Your mouth falls open. "A month? Are you serious?"

"Hey, snacks are expensive," he says with a smirk. "And besides, you were the one making bold claims about winning."

He rubs the back of his neck, hesitating for a moment before speaking again. "But, you know… I was thinking of changing my prize anyway."

"To what?"

Nicholas exhales, like he’s gathering his courage, then looks at you. "A date with you."

All you can do is stare at him, the words not reaching your head. The usual playful glint in his eyes is replaced with something more serious, something that makes your heart stumble in your chest.

"You-" Your voice falters, caught between surprise. "You’re serious?"

Nicholas lets out a soft chuckle, though he seems almost nervous. "Yeah. I am." He shoves his hands into his pockets, watching you carefully. "I like you."

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears as you try to process it, your lips parting as if to respond, but no words come out.

Nicholas gives you a small, lopsided smile. "You don’t have to answer right now," he says. "But I figured, I might as well take a shot."

Your throat feels dry, your mind scrambling to form a response. Of all the things Nicholas could have said, this was the last thing you expected.

"I—" You stop, exhaling. You’re not sure what you were going to say.

Nicholas watches you. You can see the tension in the way his fingers curl slightly in his pockets, like he’s bracing himself for whatever answer you might give.

Finally, you manage to find your voice. "You really caught me off guard," you admit, letting out a nervous laugh.

Nicholas huffs a soft laugh, shaking his head. "It’s not about the bet." He meets your eyes again, unwavering. "I just… didn’t want to keep waiting for the perfect moment. Figured I’d make one instead."

You chew on your lip, glancing away for a second before meeting his gaze again. "Okay."

His brows lift slightly. "Okay?"

A small smile tugs at your lips. "Okay, I’ll go on a date with you."

For a split second, his eyes widen in surprise like he wasn’t fully expecting you to say yes. But then, a smile spreads across his face, and your stomach flutters at the sight of it.

"Good," he says, his voice softer now. "Guess all the hard work I put into beating you in the game wasn’t so bad after all."

author's note! : dear readers who have followed this smau for more than 2 years (starting date jan 2023) i am sad to say this smau has officially been completed! i hope all of you enjoyed it and please stay tuned for a smau that i’m starting soon for &team's maki. i still have an epilogue and some fun sidestories (like ningning, jo, haerin and hikaru's plan for making the account) but other than that the story has come to an end. once again tysm for reading and i hope to see all of you around sometime!

taglist: @svnoohe4rtsmainblog @trsrina @koishua @renjunba3 @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs @aguamarinee @meginthebuilding27 @kpoprhia @beomgyusonlywife @junhuilvrrr @nichoswag @luvnicho @wwonchii @fae-renjun @meoriapeuda99 @itsthegamemaster @missychief1404 @hyukabean @bbykaixx

[2i1han]

Slowly, Then All at Once

5.2 : finally (choice)

pairing: classmate!leehan x fem!reader│word count: 14k

genre: fluff, slow-burn, young adult, romcom, coming of age

characters mentioned : kim leehan , park sungho , sakai moka , kim minji , bae jinsol , lee jooyeon , jay park (en) , junhan , kim minju , kim woonhak

warnings : no warnings! sfw

summary : you and leehan have known each other for years—classmates since ninth grade, always familiar but never really close due to leehan's indifference. but when his brother enters the picture, everything starts to change. unresolved situation that were once buried begin to surface, and leehan must decide: let go or finally take a chance.

a/n: finally! after a whole week, i've finished this! i ended up deleting and reworking a lot of parts because i wasn't completely satisfied, so i really hope the finale meets your expectations (or at least comes close!).

this series holds a special place in my heart—writing it felt like stepping into its universe and living in it myself. and now, we've reached the finale! i hope you all enjoy it. (making it up to you for the long wait with some extra word count!)

playlist : serenade/boynextdoor , love me like that/sam kim , love, this/las , we're already/kimmuseum , the rose song/rio , our film/rio , dance with me/jiyul , dry flower/jiyul , where am i/jiyul

the warm spring air rushed past as you sped through the streets, the wind tugging at the strands of your hair that had escaped from beneath your helmet. your hands on his shoulders were firm, his occasional grins flashing through the side mirror. his excitement was contagious, and despite the nerves that came with riding a motorcycle, you couldn't help but smile too.

after weaving through the city, the bike finally came to a smooth stop in front of a rental studio. you carefully swung your leg over and stepped down first, adjusting your floral yellow cami top and smoothing out your jeans. with a quick tug, you removed your helmet, handing it back to sungho, who was still seated.

"you're enjoying this too much," you teased, raising an eyebrow.

"of course i am." he laughed, taking the helmet from your hands and setting it on the bike before hopping off.

your attention shifted to the sign above the studio, reading it as sungho came to stand beside you. he nudged your shoulder lightly. "let's go?"

you looked up at him and nodded. "lead the way."

the two of you entered the building, the sound of your footsteps echoing as you ascended the stairs to the second floor. halfway up, sungho turned to you with a grin. "thanks for coming with me today," he said, rubbing the back of his ear—a habit he did when he was a little nervous.

you waved off his gratitude. "it's nothing. i could use a good distraction before drowning in my project later."

he chuckled, pushing open the door to the studio. the room was dimly lit, with black soundproof foam covering the walls. in the center, a drum set and various instruments were neatly arranged, amplifiers lined up. to the side, a couch and coffee table sat occupied by jooyeon, junhan, and jay. at the sound of the door opening, they all turned their heads toward you.

jooyeon smirked as he stood from the couch, stretching lazily. "didn't know you'd be bringing company."

"be nice," sungho shot back, shaking his head.

ignoring him, jooyeon strode up to you, extending a hand. "nice to see you again, junior."

you shook his hand with a polite smile. "nice to see you too, senior."

jay, who had been leaning back, gave you a nod in acknowledgment, while junhan, true to his usual quiet nature—headed straight to his guitar, already preparing.

"i'll be over there," you said, gesturing to the couch. you slipped off your sling bag and set it down before taking a seat. sungho gave you one last glance before joining his bandmates.

"be our audience, and don't hold back on the feedback," he said as he stood by the mic stand.

you leaned back against the couch, crossing your legs. "i doubt there'll be anything to criticize, but sure, i'll pretend to be judgmental."

sungho laughed before focusing, and soon enough, the session began.

they played a mix of songs, some for an upcoming competition on monday, others for local gigs around the city. the energy in the room was electric—sungho, despite his usual frisky vibe, was completely in his element, voice effortlessly smooth through the speaker. jay's drumming was sharp, jooyeon's bass smooth, and junhan glided the notes with his guitar so precisely.

but what made it even better was the atmosphere. the guys were hilarious, cracking jokes in between songs, throwing playful jabs at each other, and making you feel welcome. you found yourself genuinely enjoying the moment, laughing at their gimmicks and nodding along to their music.

however, while you were here having a great time, someone else was most certainly not. because back at your apartment building, leehan sat by his desk, staring into his fish tank like a brooding protagonist in a melodrama. his chin rested on his hand, lips slightly pouted, eyes locked on the little fish swimming aimlessly. behind him, woonhak lay sprawled on leehan's bed, phone in hand, scrolling lazily.

"she went out with sungho," leehan muttered, as if the words tasted bitter.

woonhak, without even looking up, sighed. "that doesn't mean she doesn't like being with you."

leehan's pout deepened. he turned his gaze from his fish to the desk, then spun around dramatically to face woonhak. "then why did she choose to go with him?"

finally, woonhak set his phone down, propping himself up on his elbows. "ever considered that maybe she thinks she'll see you later anyway? and that she just wanted to hang out before getting buried in assignments? college is exhausting, man." he rolled his eyes, flopping back onto the bed.

leehan frowned, thinking it over.

"can't she have fun with me?" he muttered under his breath. "why does it have to be sungho?"

woonhak shot him a deadpan look before grabbing a plushie from the bed and chucking it at him. "you're so selfish."

leehan caught it with ease, glaring.

"you just made a move recently," woonhak continued, crossing his arms. "let it breathe. don't act like y/n's obligated to only hang out with you. sungho hyung is her friend."

leehan scoffed. "yeah, her friend who likes her." he rolled his eyes and turned back to his fish tank, sulking.

woonhak just sighed. "you're hopeless."

leehan didn't respond. instead, he just kept staring at his fish, watching them swim in circles, completely unaware of the ridiculous love triangle drama their owner was caught onto.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

three hours had passed since you first arrived at the studio, and now, at 1 pm, you found yourself sinking into a singular couch, stretching your arms as you sighed in satisfaction. across from you, sungho occupied the other single couch, legs lazily spread out, while jooyeon, junhan, and jay sprawled across the long couch like a pack of hyenas that had just devoured their prey. in the middle, the remains of your takeout meal sat on the table—empty containers, crumpled napkins, and a singular crab leg that nobody dared to claim.

"thank you for lunch, y/n," jooyeon mumbled through a mouthful of food, his cheeks bulging like a chipmunk's.

sungho didn't say anything, but he flashed you a small, grateful smile as he chewed his food calmly, the corners of his lips curling up. it was his silent way of saying thanks.

"the set was really good," you said, popping another piece of kimbap into your mouth. "i'm excited for the competition. i'll be there to watch."

junhan snorted. "don't say that. sungho might get all nervous and end up swallowing the mic whole on stage."

sungho immediately lifted the abandoned crab leg, wielding it like a weapon. "say that again and this is going in your soup next practice," he threatened, his voice muffled by the food in his mouth.

you laughed at the scene—sungho's puffed-out cheeks, junhan dodging as if the crab leg was an actual danger, and jooyeon just shaking his head like an exhausted parent.

"don't listen to him," sungho finally said after swallowing, throwing the crab leg back onto the plate.

you just shook your head, smiling, as the conversation shifted to other things. music, upcoming gigs, and jooyeon's weird theory that the practice room was haunted (it wasn't, he was just scared of the creaky air vents).

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

before you knew it, the morning had slipped away, and it was time for you to head to the university. you had a project to finish with leehan, and the band still had an entire afternoon of practice ahead.

"at least let me drive you back," sungho insisted for the fourth time.

you sighed, hands on your hips. "sungho, i can take the bus—"

"save your money," he cut you off, grinning. "besides, what kind of friend would i be if i let you take public transport when you have a personal chauffeur?"

you narrowed your eyes at him. "so now you're a chauffeur?"

"only for you," he quipped, and jooyeon made a fake gagging noise in the background.

after a few more minutes of arguing (in which sungho made it painfully obvious that he just wanted to spend more time with you), you finally caved in. who were you to turn down free transpo?

"fine," you surrendered.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

as you stepped out of the studio, you turned back to the boys, bowing lightly. "i had fun. i'll see you all at the competition."

"thanks for the food, art kid!" jooyeon waved. "good luck with your project—don't go insane before the exhibit!"

"i'll try," you called back with a laugh, disappearing behind the door as sungho followed you down the stairs.

the two of you walked side by side towards his motorcycle, the air a little lighter. "well, that was fun," you admitted, stretching your arms as you took in a deep breath.

"told you," sungho said with a smile. "hope you got the unwinding you needed."

"i did. thank you," you said sincerely, grabbing the helmet from the motorcycle seat and securing it over your head.

but when you looked up, sungho was just standing there, staring at you—not in a creepy way, but in a way that made you slightly aware.

"what...?" you asked, feeling a little self-conscious.

he exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "no, just, thank you. for spending time with me today."

his voice was softer and, his eyes bright with something. for a moment, you just stood there, unsure of what to say. it was strange, seeing sungho like this. unguarded, open. you realized that ever since that night, when you told him you only saw him as a friend, he had been acting differently. not in a bad way, just different.

before, he used to hold himself back, trying to mask his feelings, but now? now, he was allowing himself to express them, even if he knew nothing would change between you two.

and you—well, you weren't sure how to handle it. you wished you could reciprocate, wished you could force yourself to feel something more, but you couldn't. no matter how much your id told you to at least try, your superego knew the truth: he wasn't the person you liked. and your ego? stuck somewhere in the middle, drowning in guilt.

you cleared your throat, breaking eye contact. "let's go. i already messaged leehan that i'll be there in five minutes."

at the mention of leehan's name, sungho's expression faltered—just for a second. he lowered his head slightly, nodding as he grabbed his own helmet and climbed onto the bike. you got on behind him.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

"take care on your way back, sungho," you said, your voice light as you unclasped the helmet from beneath your chin, handing it back to him. the glossy black helmet almost seemed to absorb the sunlight, its smooth surface reflecting the quiet campus around you. sungho's face was entirely hidden behind the helmet's dark visor, but you could still sense his gaze on you.

"i will. you too, y/n. i'll see you later," his voice came through muffled, but you could still make out the words.

you offered a quick nod, then waved as sungho revved the engine. the motorcycle roared to life, cutting through the silent afternoon air, and he sped off, leaving behind a trail of dust. you stood there for a second, watching the spot where he had been, before you turned toward the university gate.

you scanned the area in front of you—no sign of leehan anywhere. your eyes darted left, then right. the usual crowd of students were milling about, some of them rushing to extracurricular activities, others strolling aimlessly in the sun. no leehan. shrugging to yourself, you figured he was probably just on his way.

you set off toward the art building, the click of your shoes on the pavement tapped. the smell of paint, wood, and graphite that you've grown used to welcomed you as you stepped into the building, the cool air contrasting with the warmth of the sun outside. you moved toward the back hall where the art room was located.

as you entered the studio, you spotted him almost immediately.

leehan stood at the far end of the room, near an abandoned sculpture covered in a dusty tarp, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. he was wearing his denim jacket and a white t-shirt. his blonde hair, as usual, was artfully messy, with dark brown roots beginning to show through in that way that made you wonder if he ever bothered to check if it was still the same shade.

you knocked softly on the doorframe, just enough to make your presence known.

leehan's head turned slowly, like he'd been expecting you but still looked pleasantly surprised. the blank, neutral expression on his face softened almost immediately, his lips curling into a small, welcoming smile. his eyes, always warm and light, brightened even more as they met yours.

"hi," you greeted, raising a hand in a little wave. you couldn't help the small smile curling at your own lips in return.

"hey," he replied, a slight tilt to his head.

"you're early," you commented, still keeping your hands casually behind your back.

leehan took a small step toward you, his smile only widening. "i may be," he said, glancing upward as if mentally checking the time. "i arrived five minutes earlier."

you raised an eyebrow. "you take my words so literally."

leehan chuckled at your reaction, shrugging with a slight smirk. "what can i say? i like to be punctual."

you laughed subtly, placing your bag down beside his on the nearby counter before walking over to your station. you pulled the large canvas out, the edges still slightly curled from being packed away.

for a moment, there was just the sound of you preparing your space, the soft scrape of the canvas against the easel, the rustle of your bag. but then leehan spoke again, his voice quieter this time.

"of course. i take you seriously unless you tell me otherwise."

his words kind of caught you off guard. it wasn't the typical leehan you were used to who's hesitant, and careful. this time, his voice was sure, and steady. and when you looked up, you found his gaze consistent, intense in a way that was almost different.

you blinked, momentarily thrown off by how sincere he sounded. was this the same leehan who used to fumble over his words and shove you aside?

for a moment, you just stared at him. not because you were secretly swooning—okay, maybe just a little—but because there was something so strangely magnetic about how he was looking at you. it was like he was trying to figure you out just as much as you were trying to figure him out.

"what does that even mean?" you asked, your voice slipping into a laugh as you crossed your arms, trying to regain your composure. you tilted your head, squinting at him in playful suspicion.

instead of awkwardly retreating like you half-expected, leehan surprised you by mirroring your posture, crossing his arms and leaning back slightly. he tilted his head, inspecting your face like it was the most fascinating thing in the room. his eyes lingered on you for just a second longer than necessary, making you feel a little more self-conscious than you'd like to admit.

"let's get to work," leehan said firmly as he reached out to place his hands gently on your shoulders.

you blinked, feeling the sudden, surprising warmth of his palms over your clothed skin. he gently nudged you towards your stool, his hands guiding youcarefully, and you couldn't help but feel a small flutter in your chest.

"okay, okay," you muttered, trying to mask the slight surprise with a lighthearted shrug. you sat down and adjusted the canvas, glancing back at him.

leehan lowered himself onto his stool, but instead of immediately straightening up, he just watched you for a second, expectant.

it was almost as if he was waiting for you to say something. and that made you pause. you hadn't realized it until now, but you'd been waiting for him to say something too. but for now, neither of you said anything, and instead, you just sat there in quietly.

as usual, the first 30 minutes of the session are painfully silent, the only sounds in the studio being the soft scratching of your brush against the canvas and the occasional clinking of paint tubes being shuffled around. the air smells faintly of turpentine and acrylics.

but something feels off this time.

you don't know if you're just being hypersensitive, or if leehan is actually staring at you. and not the casual, for project purposes type of stare, but the damn, she's pretty kind.

you do everything to ignore it, keeping your eyes fixed on your work, but it's impossible to shake off the feeling. the weight of his gaze lingers on your face so heavy. and when you finally dare to glance up, you nearly choke on your own breath.

leehan isn't just looking at you. he's admiring you. his dark brown eyes are almost glowing under the studio lights, his pupils slightly blown out, as if he's seeing something mesmerizing. if your friends were here, they'd be violently shaking you by the shoulders, screaming, "told you we're right"

you quickly snap your gaze back down, pretending to be extremely invested in mixing the right shade of ochre, but your hands stumbled. the brush trembles slightly in your grip.

your heart, which had been relatively calm before, suddenly decides it's auditioning for a drum solo. the rapid pounding is so loud in your ears that you're convinced leehan can hear it, too. instinctively, you ball your fist and press it lightly against your chest, as if that'll somehow muffle the deafening thudding.

and then, he smirks. not a small, barely-there smirk. no, this is a full-fledged, i-know-exactly-what-i'm-doing-to-you kind of smirk, with the corner of his lips quirking up just enough to make your stomach drop.

your body tenses as if you've just been caught red-handed in something scandalous. desperate to escape the building tension, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

"hey, focus. stop smiling. you'll ruin the expression," you stammer, shifting in your seat and gripping your brush tighter, trying so hard to sound steady. but the slight tremble in your voice betrays you.

leehan doesn't even try to hide his amusement. instead of wiping the grin off his face, he chuckles.

"you're the one who should focus," he says, leaning forward slightly, propping an elbow on his knee as he tilts his head at you, his lashes fluttering. his expression is taunting.

and suddenly, the room is an oven, and you're melting.

your entire body language goes against you—shoulders slumping, spine curving slightly as if trying to make yourself smaller under his gaze. your fingers twitch slightly over the palette, your grip was unsteady. you swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry, and your eyes flicker up at him before quickly darting away again.

"how could i focus? you're staring. it's... it's distracting," you mutter, rolling your eyes in an attempt to regain some control over the situation. but your movements are stiff, and you don't even realize that your brush is now aimlessly swirling in the palette, mixing colors that definitely weren't supposed to be mixed.

leehan watches you, clearly entertained.

"am i not supposed to look? you know, for the perspective," he says, voice screams faux innocence.

you huff, tightening your jaw. "yeah, but not like that."

his eyebrows lift slightly. "like what?"

the atmosphere shifts. his tone is different now. lower, and softer. not teasing, not mocking, but genuine. you hesitate, gripping the edge of your palette just a little tighter. your heart skips, then starts racing all over again. when you look up at him this time, it's worse. his eyes are closer. his gaze is warmer—yet somehow heavier, and more intense. it makes your chest feel tight, makes your fingertips tingle.

your shoulders tense as you quickly drop your gaze again, this time fixating on the wooden floor, suddenly finding the texture of the planks very interesting.

"like..." your voice is barely above a whisper. "like that."

"look at me," leehan murmurs.

his voice is softer than than you've ever heard it. it's not a command, but it might as well be, because without thinking, without meaning to, you do. hesitantly, you lift your eyes to meet his. and he smiles.

not the teasing smirk from earlier. not the mocking grin.

his gaze flickers downward for a moment, nodding toward the abandoned palette on your lap.

"the paint's drying," he says.

you blink, momentarily confused, before realizing—oh, right. the actual reason you're both here.

"oh, yeah—" you clear your throat, immediately snapping your focus back to your work, adjusting your posture as if that'll somehow reset the past five minutes. the back of your hand brushes your bangs away from your face in a nervous habit, and across from you, leehan does the same, except he looks too satisfied with himself.

"let's be quick," you mutter, picking up your brush again.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

the entire day was a wrap. your piece was finally almost done, and for the next steps, you wouldn't need leehan anymore. when you told him earlier, his face had fallen like you'd just announced the end of the world. he tried to hide it, of course, brushing it off with a casual nod, but you could see through him.

now, the two of you were walking side by side on the way to the bus stop, your steps unconsciously slow, neither of you seeming in a rush to part ways. the sun had already dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in deep shades of violet and blue, streetlights flickering on one by one. the cool evening breeze swept past, rustling the leaves above.

"thank you for having me as your subject," leehan finally spoke, his voice breaking through the quiet hum of the evening. his hands were stuffed into his pockets, his usual reserved demeanor slightly loosened. "when you showed me the semi-finished portrait, i was like, is this really how i look in your perspective? it's unreal." he chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

"i wasn't able to capture you perfectly. that's all i could do," you said, a bit apologetic.

leehan glanced at you, his dark eyes twinkling under the streetlight. "and it's perfect," he assured, nodding at you as if he meant every word.

you hesitated, kicking at a loose pebble on the pavement before speaking. "thanks... also, will you be there on monday? you know, sungho's band competition?"

leehan pondered for a second, his expression thoughtful before he nodded. "yeah, even though he's a pain in the ass, of course i'd be there," he replied with a casual shrug. then, with a small, almost teasing smile, he added, "and it'd be more fun since you'd be there."

something about the way he said that made warmth creep up your neck, but you ignored it, instead letting out a small laugh. "back then, you seemed to be having the worst day possible whenever i was in the same room as you," you mused, side-eyeing him.

leehan tilted his head slightly, waiting for you to finish. "now, what?" he asked.

you thought for a moment, debating whether to say it or not, but you did anyways. "you started to act more like sungho when you're around me."

leehan didn't seem disappointed or defensive like you expected. instead, he merely nodded, his expression is like he was genuinely considering your words.

"i'd assume you're trying to say i'm now more comfortable around you?" he said.

by then, the two of you had reached the bus stop. the old metal shed creaked slightly as the wind passed through. leehan turned to face you, standing directly in front of you now.

"something like that," you smiled. "those three and a half years about you are still the biggest mystery to me."

at your words, leehan's expression shifted. the air between you changed slightly. his gaze lowered—to your hand resting on the strap of your sling bag. he stared at it for a moment, as if debating something. for a second, you thought he might reach for it. but instead, he took a step closer.

the back of your shoe hit the metal pole of the bus stop. the proximity was enough to send a jolt of awareness through you.

leehan exhaled softly, his breath was warm against the cool night air. his usual nonchalant demeanor was gone.

and then, finally, he spoke.

"y/n, whenever you're close..." he started, his voice quieter than before, like he was gathering the courage to lay everything out. "my heart—"

a loud rev of an engine cut him off.

you instinctively turned your head to the right, and leehan did the same. a motorcycle rolled up from the corner, and it was sungho.

one foot planted on the ground, his hand lifted the visor of his helmet, revealing his sharp gaze. even from a distance, you could see the glint in his eyes—not directed at you, but at leehan.

the tension was immediate.

leehan, who had just been on the verge of saying something incredibly important, now stood rigid beside you, his jaw tightening.

then, sungho slowly moved his motorcycle forward, inserting himself between the two of you.

"wanna lift?" he asked casually, a smug grin tugging at his lips. he didn't even acknowledge leehan, acting as if he were just an air between you

you glanced at sungho, but in your peripheral vision, you could see leehan's reaction—his nostrils flaring slightly, his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek, his gaze flickering away toward the trees like he was trying to contain himself.

you let out a small, awkward smile. "me and leehan are taking the bus."

"bus fare is expensive," sungho quipped.

you sighed, already feeling the weight of the atmosphere compressing around you. "i don't think we'll fit on the motorcycle. and also, you only have one spare helmet."

sungho didn't look convinced. "then let leehan take the bus."

that did it. leehan's entire body tensed, and his patience, already hanging by a thread, seemed to snap as he turned sharply toward sungho, his posture radiating pure irritation. he was seconds away from marching straight up to him when you instinctively grabbed his forearm.

the effect was instant. leehan froze. the storm in his eyes settled just slightly. you tightened your grip, your expression serious as you turned to sungho. "sungho, i don't think we can just leave leehan."

something flickered in sungho's gaze as he looked down at your hand still securely wrapped around leehan's arm. the way you held him. the way you defended him. whatever sungho saw in that moment made his smugness falter.

"i understand," he muttered, his tone quieter now, almost defeated. he looked at you one last time, then exhaled sharply.

but when his gaze lifted back to leehan, all softness was gone.

"bring her home safe," sungho warned, his voice sharp as a blade. then, without waiting for a response, he slammed his visor shut and sped off.

for a moment, neither of you moved. leehan, to his credit, had kept his composure the entire time. as sungho finally disappeared down the road, his shoulders relaxed, and he let out a slow breath.

then he glanced down, and realized your hand was still on his forearm.

"what's with that guy acting like you're his wife or something?" leehan muttered under his breath, visibly annoyed. "so freaking annoying."

you couldn't help it. you laughed that made leehan turn to you, startled. "what?"

"nothing..." you held up your hands, trying to suppress your giggles. "it's just...why are you so pressed about it?"

at that, leehan broke into a small, almost reluctant smile. "it's just annoying, isn't it?"

"he's just being nice," you rolled your eyes.

"yeah, by leaving me alone," he scoffed.

"well, that's a different topic for a different day," you said.

"and so is your question," leehan shot back. then, nodding toward the road, he said, "let's go. bus is arriving."

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

the day after that, you hadn't seen much of the brothers, aside from running past leehan in the hallway on your way to the university. you were heading to the art room to finalize your portrait for the upcoming exhibit in two days.

your encounter was quick: a simple exchange of nods and smiles, but leehan still found time to ask, "are you sure you won't need me anymore?"

you chuckled, waving him off casually, but the warmth of the interaction lingered long after he disappeared down the hallway. maybe it was just your imagination, but the blush on your cheeks that you carefully applied this morning seemed to burn a little brighter.

now, inside the empty art room, the silence was almost so loud. it wasn't that you couldn't work alone, you had spent countless hours in this very spot, your focus solely on the strokes of your brush, but something about today felt different. the absence of leehan was more noticeable than you had anticipated.

your gaze flickered to the empty stool in front of you, where leehan had sat everytime. it was strange, how accustomed you had become to having him there, even if it was just for three days. you had enjoyed his company, though you'd rather gouge out your own pride than admit that out loud.

the hours crawled by at an agonizing pace. instead of painting, you found yourself zoning out, your brush hovering uselessly above the canvas as you stared at the vacant seat in front of you. the only sound in the room was the soft ticking of the clock and the occasional grumble of your stomach—a reminder that you had completely skipped lunch.

you sighed, rubbing your temples. the loneliness was starting to sink its teeth in, until suddenly, a burst loud, and familiar voices echoed through the hallway.

the corners of your lips lifted instinctively. even before the door swung open, you already recognized the energy.

"tada!"

moka made the grandest entrance possible, hopping through the doorway like she was stepping onto a stage, arms spread wide as if expecting an applause. behind her, minji and bae followed at a much calmer pace, hands tucked into their pockets.

your shoulders sagged in relief, the tension melting away. the once stifling silence was now chewed up and spat out by your friends.

"you messaged earlier that you'd be alone today," bae said, slinging an arm around moka's shoulders with a smirk. "figured we'd swing by before loneliness physically kills you."

moka nodded enthusiastically, leaning into bae as she grinned at you. "we brought chicken."

minji lifted two plastic bags showing you. "you're welcome." without further ado, she walked over to the table behind you and made herself comfortable.

you tilted your head, your heart warming at their thoughtfulness. "thanks, guys."

"no worries," bae said nonchalantly, dropping down onto the floor and pulling a small box closer. moka followed, the two of them sitting cross-legged in front of you while minji took a seat beside your stool.

as moka tore into the plastic bag, the aroma of garlic-parmesan chicken slipped. your stomach made a noise at the scent, and before you could even reach for a piece, moka had already plucked up a wing, holding it out for you.

without hesitation, you leaned forward past your canvas, opening your mouth as moka extended the chicken towards you. you took a bite, humming in appreciation as the buttery, garlicky flavor melted on your tongue.

"so..." minji started, casually prying open another box. she didn't even glance up as she asked, "where's your art buddy?"

you chewed slowly. after swallowing, you cleared your throat, trying to sound indifferent. "ah... leehan." you straightened your back as if that would somehow make you look less suspicious. "i'm almost done here. just finishing touches, so pretty much it's already unnecessary to have him around." you reached for an oil paint tube, busying yourself with your palette.

moka scoffed, rolling her eyes dramatically. "let's be real. you want him here even though it's 'unnecessary.'"

"it's not like that," you mumbled, but even you didn't sound convinced.

bae arched a brow. "you looked like you were at rock bottom before we got here. now? zero to a hundred, real quick."

you sighed, shifting uncomfortably. "i just... i can't stand being alone, that's all." it was a safe, reasonable excuse. mostly true. but some part of you knew there was another layer to it, one you weren't ready to peel back just yet. even with your best friends here, cracking jokes and lifting the mood, something still felt missing.

minji sneered knowingly, her gaze flicking toward you. "we're not blind, you know." she gestured vaguely at your face. "it's written all over your face."

moka smirked, resting her chin on her palm. "so, tell us—anything special happened? we're waiting for updates, you know."

you hesitated, twisting your lips in thought before finally peeling off your gloves and stepping down from your stool. settling beside minji, you let out a breath before dropping the bomb without hesitation.

"i think leehan's flirting with me."

"this is a moment in history," bae chuckled, shaking her head. "not just because leehan's flirting with you, but because you finally noticed something that's been in plain sight."

moka sneered, "she's finally seen light."

you groaned, rubbing your temples. "but... i don't know. he's just been acting so strange." you frowned slightly, deep in thought.

"we can see that too," minji deadpanned. "what about sungho?"

your expression chamged at the mention of his name. "i think he and leehan aren't doing well."

"clearly," bae muttered.

"they're already fighting over you," minji added bluntly, making you grimace.

you wanted to scoff, say something like 'that's dumb,' but could you? you didn't know if it was because of you that they were mad at each other, or if there was something deeper, something personal between them. either way, they were definitely not on good terms.

"enough of that," you waved your hand, changing the subject "y'all watching the uni band competition tomorrow?"

"duhh, of course we're going," bae said, glancing at minji, who simply nodded.

moka waved a hand. "uh... hi? i would too?"

minji smirked. "no need to ask. you show up to every event anyway."

moka rolled her eyes. "and you already know i'm rooting for dalbit. the band from our uni is rude as hell, how can i support such lowlifes...it's annoying."

you chuckled as their bickering continued. even though the unease about leehan and sungho sat at the back of your mind, for now, you allowed yourself to rest at the moment.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

with a tired but satisfied sigh, you tossed the palette onto the cluttered table behind you, its surface smeared with dried paint from hours of work. pushing back your stool, you stood up, your shoulders stiff from staying in the same position for too long. slowly, you took a few steps back, hands slightly lifted.

a smile tugged at your lips. it was rare for you to feel this level of satisfaction with your own work, but was different. leehan's unrealistically handsome face looked like it had been plucked straight out of a mythology, his sharp features framed perfectly by the soft strokes of your brush. usually, you were overly critical of your paintings, nitpicking every little detail until you convinced yourself they weren't good enough. but not this time. this piece was perfect, perhaps the best one you'd ever done.

leehan's painted eyes were so vivid, so hauntingly lifelike that it felt like they were watching you—like the portrait might start talking at any second. the thought made you jolt a little, but instead of stepping away, you moved closer, drawn in by the illusion. your fingers hovered over the canvas, hesitant at first, before gently grazing the rough texture of the dried paint. the strands of his painted hair looked so real, you almost expected them to slip through your fingers like silk.

for a second, a selfish thought crossed your mind. do i really want to submit this to the exhibit? the idea of keeping it for yourself, hanging it in your room where only you could see it, was tempting. but as soon as the thought formed, you let out a small chuckle, shaking your head.

you chuckled to yourself, shaking your head. god, i'm thinking like an obsessed fan.

snapping out of it, you turned away from the canvas, ready to tidy up. peeling off your paint-stained apron, you neatly folded it before starting to clear the mess on your table. brushes, crumpled tissues, and paint tubes were scattered around as you carefully lifted the canvas, carrying it over to the safest corner of the room. just as you were about to call it a night, a sudden knock echoed from behind.

your heart jumped for a moment before settling into excitement. a smirk crept onto your lips as you confidently turned around, already expecting a certain someone.

"leeha—"

but as soon as your eyes landed on the person standing at the doorway, your face instantly fell.

"oh! sungho..." the name died on your tongue the moment your eyes landed on someone else, the earlier excitement now replaced with mild embarrassment. "didn't expect you to be here."

sungho stood there, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, his smile seconds ago slightly dimmed. he had noticed your slip-up. "you expected leehan, didn't you?"

your gaze dropped in embarrassment. "well... kind of."

a flicker of disappointment crossed sungho's face, but he quickly recovered, a lopsided smile appearing as he stepped inside. "sorry it was me who showed up."

guilt immediately pricked at you. "no! don't be. it's fine, really." you waved your hands dismissively. "i just didn't expect you to be here since i thought you'd be busy. you know, competition is tomorrow."

"fair enough," he nodded, his gaze drifting past you. his eyes landed on the large canvas.

noticing his interest, you turned as well, the two of you now standing side by side, looking at the portrait as if you were already at the exhibit.

"last band practice just ended," sungho finally spoke, still studying the painting. "i checked to see if you were still here so we could go home together. surely enough, you were."

you chuckled. "guess that means i get a free ride."

sungho grinned. "lucky you."

a silence settled between you both as he studied the painting with a thoughtful expression. after a moment, he spoke again. "this is perfect, y/n."

you turned to him, your lips tugging into a small, proud smile. "isn't it?"

"leehan looks amazing here..." sungho mused before glancing at you. "only because you painted it."

you shut your eyes for a second, shaking your head with a laugh. "would you say that if you were the one i picked as a subject?"

"obviously not," he replied, grinning. then, he looked back at the painting with a smirk. "i'm sure leehan would say the same thing if my face were up there. 'sungho looks ugly, but you made him handsome.' i'm already betting on it."

that made you burst into laughter, your head tilting back slightly. sungho grinned at the sight, watching the way your smile crinkled your eyes.

"that's funny," you said, arms crossing over your chest as you calmed down.

"but really though," sungho said, his tone shifting to something more sincere, "it looks amazing. i'm sure you'll do well at the exhibit."

his words caught you off guard, warmth blooming in your chest.

"thank you, sungho," you said.

"always welcome."

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

by the time the two of you reached your apartment complex, it was nearly midnight—later than expected, considering you'd taken a detour to stroll around for a bit. now standing in front of your doors, sungho exhaled before turning to you.

"be there tomorrow," he said, voice unusually calm. "i have something for you."

you tilted your head slightly. "what is it?"

"just be there." his lips curled into a small, knowing smile.

you narrowed your eyes at him but nodded nonetheless. "fine, fine. i'll be there."

"good." he stepped back, shoving his hands into his pockets again. "good night, y/n. get some rest."

"good night." you flashed him a small wave before disappearing behind your door.

sungho watched your door close before sighing and heading into his own apartment. as he kicked off his shoes and neatly placed them by the doorway, he barely had time to relax before a voice cuts in.

"so, what would that be?" leehan asked.

sungho rolled his eyes, exhaling through his nose. "didn't mom ever tell you it's rude to eavesdrop?" he deadpanned, walking past him toward the kitchen.

"you're doing too much." leehan scoffed.

sungho took a sip of water before slamming the glass down with unnecessary force, turning to glare at him. "and you're doing nothing at all. that's way worse."

leehan was visibly gagged, momentarily caught off guard. he opened his mouth to retort, then simply rolled his eyes and looked away, clearly not in the mood to argue.

sungho, on the other hand, was already heading toward his room when he paused at the doorway. without looking back, he spoke.

"also—" he turned slightly. "make a change rather than whining about it like a kid behind closed doors."

and with that, he disappeared into his room, shutting the door with a firm thud, leaving leehan alone in the dimly lit living room.

meanwhile, you sprawled across your bed like a crime scene victim, exhaling a long, deep sigh, staring blankly at the ceiling. the dim yellow glow of your bedside lamp cast cozy shadows across the walls. the world outside was calm, but your mind? a complete mess.

kim leehan.

the name alone sent you kicking your feet. it had been living rent-free in your head for years. since university started? definitely. since high school? probably. since middle school? …no comment.

but lately, something felt different. he wasn’t just leehan, your newly made friend anymore. now, whenever he smiled at you, or even breathed in your direction, something fluttered in your chest—an annoying, persistent feeling that you refused to acknowledge.

your stomach did this weird little flip anytime he was near, and your brain, like a malfunctioning computer, short-circuited the moment he so much as looked at you for longer than two seconds.

you groaned, throwing an arm over your face. no. no way. i don’t like him.

"just interested, that’s all."

"almost the same thing," your own conscience shot back.

"no, it’s not!"

you rolled onto your stomach, aggressively burrito-ing yourself into your comforter as if willpower could smother the thoughts out of existence. maybe if you stayed like this long enough, time would do the hard work of sorting out your feelings for you.

solid plan. foolproof.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

morning to early afternoon was packed to the brim. the main art hall bustled with business, students rushing around in a hectic last-minute adjustments and nervous excitement. you had spent long minutes setting up your portrait, adjusting the lighting, ensuring the positioning was just right.

then, finally, you stepped back and the reaction was instant.

a hush fell over the group of students as they took in the massive portrait you had just unveiled. whispered wows and awed gasps spread through the hall like bees.

"this is insane. you're a freshman?!"

"if this is what you do now, imagine what you'll make by senior year."

"this looks like something that belongs in an actual museum."

you basked in the praise, smiling humbly as you bowed and thanked each person who approached. their admiration sent a rush of pride through you, and any exhaustion you might’ve felt from setting up vanished under their words.

but then, of course, came the inevitable shift in focus.

"damn, you really have an eye for muses, huh?"

"no kidding. leehan looks stupidly handsome in this."

"kim leehan, from the performance arts department. he's already popular, but after this? he's gonna blow up even more."

"you should put his social media under the painting, you know, as credit."

"how’d you even convince him to pose for you? i might need him for my sculpture project."

you barely held back an eye roll. your lips twitched into a forced smile as you thanked them, though deep down, you felt a twinge of… jealousy?

that was ridiculous.

you shook your head, mumbling under your breath, "he knew me first, anyway. what’s there to be jealous of?"

by the time you left the art hall, the sun was already dipping below. the university grounds buzzed with excitement as students gathered for the competition. the setup was the same as the freshmen welcoming party—string lights twinkling above, a modest stage standing at the center, food stalls dotting the perimeter.

your friends, moka, minji and bae, had promised to meet you here at six sharp. you checked your phone.

6:15 pm.

"six my ass," you muttered, shaking your head with a chuckle.

as you scanned the crowd, your eyes landed on someone different instead. it was leehan.

the instant recognition made your stomach flip. he stood a few feet away, casually dressed in a loose hoodie and jeans, looking effortlessly cool as usual. when he spotted you, his entire face lit up, and he waved.

your lips twitched into a smile before you could stop yourself. you took a step forward, but before you could even reach him, he jogged towards you.

"here all by yourself?" he asked, stopping just a breath away.

"not really," you replied, suddenly hyper-aware of every little thing—your voice, your posture, the way your fingers twitched at your sides. "minji, bae, and moka are just late."

leehan nodded, a thoughtful expression flickering across his face. "will you be with them, then?"

you hesitated. your mouth opened, then closed. your brain scrambled for the right words but ultimately went with the most honest answer.

"we can be together."

leehan blinked. then, just for a second, he ooked almost stunned. his lips parted slightly, like he hadn’t expected that response. then, under his breath, he mumbled to himself.

"god, i wish."

your head snapped up. "what?"

leehan's head jerked up just as fast. "huh?"

you stared at each other in mutual panic for a solid second before he coughed into his fist, rubbing the back of his neck. "oh... uh, i mean, yeah! we can, you know—" he gestured vaguely. "walk around, watch the competition together."

you squinted, suspicious, but ultimately let it slide. "right."

"until your friends get here?" he clarified, still fidgeting.

you shook your head, smiling. "no, we can hang around until it finishes."

then, his lips stretched into a very satisfied grin. "alright, well," he said, nodding toward the snack stalls. "wanna get something before it starts?"

you nudged him playfully with your elbow. "as long as you're paying."

leehan scoffed, hand over his chest in mock offense. "excuse me? i didn't agree to that."

"well, i did paint you like a goddamn renaissance masterpiece, so—"

"fine, fine," he laughed, shaking his head as he led the way.

side by side, you walked toward the stalls, waiting for the competition to begin—completely oblivious to the fact that, for everyone else watching, you already looked like a couple.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

thirty minutes of strolling with leehan felt both like an eternity and a blink. time moved in contradictions when you were with him—one moment, you felt hyper-aware of every second passing, and the next, you’d realize how easily conversations flowed.

at some point, you started talking about the praises he got for your painting at the art hall earlier. there was an obvious playful annoyance in your tone, which leehan immediately picked up on. his lips curled into a tease.

"so you're saying i stole the spotlight from your masterpiece?" he asked, feigning innocence, one hand casually tucked into his pocket as he strolled beside you.

"i mean... it is my painting," you huffed, crossing your arms dramatically. "but people kept talking about your face instead."

leehan let out a chuckle, tilting his head toward you. "well, i can't blame them. the artist captured me too well."

you gave him a deadpan look, but the warmth spreading to your ears exposed you.

leehan leaned slightly closer with a smirk. "but honestly, i should be thanking you, right? you made me look that good."

the way he said it—low, and smooth, with that damn knowing smile made you fumble for a second. your mouth opened, but no words came out. instead, you let out a weak laugh and looked away, feeling an embarrassing blush creeping up your face.

thankfully, your friends finally made their appearance, saving you from completely embarrassing yourself. or so you thought.

bae, minji, and moka arrived twenty-five minutes late, and instead of apologizing for their delay, they immediately gave you the look.

"oh, don't stop on our account," bae teased, crossing his arms and eyeing the space, or lack thereof between you and leehan.

minji smirked. "yeah, please. continue your little date."

your eyes widened in horror. "we're not—"

moka let out an exaggerated sigh. "damn, we should've given you an hour alone instead of just thirty minutes."

you shot them a glare before smacking their shoulders, making them burst into laughter. meanwhile, leehan just stood there with an amused smile, watching your flustered reaction. when your eyes met his, he raised an eyebrow at you—teasing, suspicious.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

as the competition began, the five of you gathered near the barricades. the lights dimmed slightly, the stage glowing with variety of colors as the first performance started. the sound of music filled the air, but your mind was barely processing it. you were too aware of leehan beside you.

there was a subtle tension between you two—not the awkward kind, but the kind that made your skin buzz with anticipation. you'd catch yourself stealing glances at him, only to find him already looking at you. neither of you would say anything, just exchanging small smiles before pretending to focus on the performance.

it was like the two of you were already something, yet neither of you had confirmed it.

you used to brush this off, convincing yourself that this was just how close friends acted. but now, you weren't so sure. the way he sometimes leaned closer, the way his hand would lightly brush against yours without either of you pulling away, the way he said your name like it meant something—it made you want to stop second-guessing.

and for the first time, you actually wanted to confront it. but then there was that problem.

for three years, leehan had an obvious history of ignoring you like it's the olympics. without a word. no explanation, just silence. even now, you still didn't know why. and if you did bring this up, your growing feelings, this weird, almost-relationship thing—what if he pulls away again?

the thought made your chest tighten.

back then, you had managed to move forward, convincing yourself that maybe it was for the best. but now, after finally building something with him, you weren't sure you could handle being set aside by him again.

the spotlight finally lit up. the moment it did, the crowd erupted into cheers, a wave of energy pulsing through the air. students flooded the grounds—some familiar, others from neighboring universities, their faces blending.

you joined in without hesitation, cupping your hands around your mouth and letting out a loud "hoooooo!" with the rest of them.

leehan, on the other hand, remained still beside you. he didn't cheer, didn't raise his voice, just stood there with a small, amused smile as he watched you.

you turned to him, still laughing, breathless from the rush of it all. "do you know after how many bands sungho's group is gonna perform?" you shouted over the blaring sound system, leaning closer so he could hear.

leehan smirked. then, without warning, he leaned down.

you barely had time to react. your body jolted slightly, instinctively flinching at the sudden closeness, and for a fleeting moment, you almost closed your eyes in anticipation, only for him to stop just beside your ear.

"four bands," he spoke against your ears, and far too close. "they perform last."

then, just as quickly, he straightened back up, standing tall again as if nothing happened.

your excitement shifted into something else entirely. a rush of dopamine flooded your system, leaving your heart stumbling over itself. you let out a small, breathy smile, barely catching yourself.

"right… i see," you muttered just loud enough for him to hear, though it might as well have been a whisper.

the performances began, breaking the moment before you could dwell on it too much. the first band, representing moka’s university, stepped onto the stage. as soon as they picked up their instruments, the crowd roared again.

three songs per set. the energy shifted with each performance—some bands tore through the stage with rock anthems, guitars wailing under bright lights, while others soothed the crowd with jazzy melodies, smooth and hypnotic.

then there were the slow rock ballads—the kind that had people swaying, arms draped over each other’s shoulders, the entire field echoing love is in the air.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

the sets had flown by so quickly that you could hardly believe it, but as you glanced at your wristwatch, you realized it had already been two hours. the time had slipped away, and now, it was nearing 9 p.m. the competition had come down to the final band—dalbit.

as the senior mc announced their arrival on stage, a shift rippled through the crowd. the cheers grew deafening, the energy buzzing through the air as if this was the moment everyone had been waiting for. it was clear—sungho's band owned this crowd. this was their territory.

bright, colorful stage lights flickered to life, illuminating the band members as they made their way onto the stage. a wave of enthusiastic screams and whistles erupted, echoing across the field. sungho, leading the group, strode confidently to the mic stand, the warm glow of the spotlight catching in his dark, slightly tousled hair. he was positioned just in front of you, and for a fleeting moment, his gaze met yours.

a quick glance, then he smiled, as if it was meant just for you in the sea of crowds. before he turned back to the audience, raising a hand in a wave that only made the crowd scream louder.

"we’ve been waiting for this one!" someone behind you hollered, their excitement was infectious.

you chuckled, glancing sideways at your friends. moka was vibrating with excitement, bouncing on her feet like she was about to rocket off into the sky. bae had her phone up, already recording. even minji, who was usually the calm, rational one was clapping along, a rare and genuine grin on her face.

leehan, however, remained unmoving beside you, arms crossed over his chest. his expression had a proud smile tugging at the corner of his lips. unlike the others, he wasn't jumping or screaming. his gaze locked onto the stage, watching every move carefully.

then, the first song kicked in.

a sharp snare hit. the guitar burst to life. and just like that, the entire field erupted. the crowd transformed into an ocean of movement, jumping, screaming, hands reaching toward the sky as the band unleashed their full energy onto the stage.

the song was fast-paced, the kind that pulsed straight through your chest, rattling your bones and sending a thrill through your veins. the kind that made you feel alive.

you couldn't help yourself. the energy was contagious, pulling you into its rhythm. you swayed, then jumped, arms lifted as you screamed along with the others. your laughter blended into the music, caught up in the pure joy of the performance.

even leehan, usually so composed, gave in. though he didn't jump wildly like you, he nodded along with the beat, shifting his weight subtly as if he couldn’t help but be drawn into the atmosphere.

song after song, the energy never dipped. they had always been good, but tonight? they were unstoppable. their hard work and late-night rehearsals paying off in the way the audience responded—fully immersed, fully alive.

then, after two high-energy songs, a sudden hush fell over the field.

sungho stepped up to the mic again, running a hand through his hair as he exhaled. "this'll be the last song of our set," he announced, his voice carrying over the expectant silence.

the moment he said it, the entire crowd groaned in protest.

sungho laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. "hey, hey, don't give me that! but listen, if you want more, come to our gigs in the city this week! the passes are on us if we win tonight."

predictably, the crowd went wild again. the screams were louder than ever, a perfect proof to sungho’s ability to work an audience. you couldn't help but grin at his gimmicks. he always had a trick up his sleeve.

then, his expression shifted slightly, something softer beneath "the last song," he continued, gripping the mic stand, "is a little different from the first two."

he paused for effect, his eyes scanning the crowd before settling on you.

"i composed this myself," he said, his voice dipping slightly, "and i'm dedicating it to someone i know."

a chorus of teasing "oohs" and knowing murmurs swept through the audience.

it felt like every single person in that field had turned to look at you. even though logically, you knew they hadn't, the weight of their assumed gazes made your skin tingle with heat.

you weren't assuming things. it was clear. it was for you.

you shifted on your feet, not entirely from embarrassment, but from something else. excitement, and anticipation.

meanwhile, beside you, leehan's posture stiffened.

you didn't have to turn to know he was tense. the sharp inhale, the way his arms remained rigidly crossed, the way his eyes narrowed at sungho. he wasn't just uncomfortable, he was agitated. there was something about the way he stared at the stage, exchanging quick, unreadable glares with sungho, that made the air between them feel charged.

then, the song started—serenade

a gentle tap, tap against the wooden body of junhan's guitar. then, a few soft strums.

and then, sungho's angelic, smooth voice.

the moment he started singing, you felt yourself relax, the lyrics and beat were playful, and romantic, with a touch of humor that made you chuckle under your breath.

sungho was enjoying himself, grinning as he leaned into the mic, eyes half-lidded immersed in his feels as he sang each line.

the crowd swayed along, fully immersed in the moment, while you simply listened to the words of the song he had written for you.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

as the final notes of dalbit's performance faded into the night, the mc's voice rang out through the speakers, signaling a short break before the announcement of the winners. the crowd that had been pressed against the barricades slowly dispersed, people stretching their legs, chatting excitedly, and heading off to grab refreshments.

you, leehan, and your friends joined the flow, stepping away from the stage lights to wander through the festival grounds.

the two of you wandered among the scattered clusters of students, chatting idly about the bands that had performed. the conversation flowed easily, a mix of opinions, critiques, and mutual agreement that dalbit had, without a doubt, delivered the best performance of the night.

it wasn't just bias, either. as you passed by a group from another university, you caught snippets of their conversation—words like insane stage presence and unreal chemistry confirming that they indeed had left an impression on more than just their own school.

leehan hummed in agreement. "they really outdid themselves this time."

you nodded. "exactly, you could tell they've been working hard for this. i mean, even students from other schools are talking about them."

leehan let out a small chuckle, shoving his hands into his pockets as he glanced toward the stage. "sungho must be over the moon right now."

before you could respond, the speakers crackled again, and the mc's voice returned, loud and clear. "alright, everyone! time to gather back!"

as if drawn by an invisible force, the crowd surged forward again, filling the space in front of the stage like metal shavings pulled by a magnet. you and leehan followed, slipping through the gaps between excited students.

"with no further ado," the mc continued, holding a cue card in one hand, "let's announce the two runner-ups first!"

cheers erupted as the two runner-up bands were called, their members stepping up to accept their awards amidst waves of applause and congratulatory shouts.

then, the moment everyone had been waiting for.

the grand prize.

the mc glanced down at the last card in his hand before breaking into a knowing smile. "well, i'm sure you all saw this coming…" he lifted the mic closer. "the winners of tonight's competition, taking home the grand prize and securing a spot in the regional band competition—dalbit! congratulations!"

the crowd exploded.

you barely had time to react before pure excitement took over, your feet bouncing off the ground as cheers filled the night. laughter bubbled up in your throat as you turned to leehan, grabbing both of his hands in a moment of shared joy.

"they won! i knew they would!" you beamed, your hands clapping his excitedly.

leehan chuckled, lifting his hands in the air in celebration before glancing at the stage. there was something almost fond in his gaze. not just for the victory, but for the sight in front of him. for you, jumping excitedly in your dress, your long hair swaying with each movement, your joy as contagious as the energy around you.

"they didn't win last year," he spoke. "i'm glad they did this time."

you finally settled down, though the grin hadn't left your face. "me too," you agreed, breathless from excitement.

still high on adrenaline, you stretched onto your tiptoes, craning your neck to get a better view of the stage. your eyes scanned the band members, searching for sungho, only to see him already looking for you.

even among the roaring crowd, even with the flashing lights, his gaze searched until it landed on yours. the moment his eyes found you, his lips curved into a grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly.

without hesitation, you threw your fists up in celebration, bouncing on your heels as you cheered for him.

sungho's smile widened. he lifted a hand in response, acknowledging you.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

the event had finally settled, and now all that remained were students spilling out onto the streets, looking for a place to celebrate. the nearby eateries were already filling up with groups eager to keep the night alive with drinks. you had briefly considered joining in, but with your exhibit tomorrow, it wasn't exactly the best idea.

your friends had the same thought. even though they were tempted, they ultimately decided against it, agreeing to just crash at moka's place instead. "we have to be hungover-free for your big day," bae had said, earning nods from the others. surprisingly, sungho and leehan had also opted out of the afterparties.

standing by the school gates, you turned to leehan, who had been walking with you all this time. a few steps behind you, your three friends stood, waiting patiently.

"i'll be off with them now," you told leehan, shifting on your feet slightly.

"take care, all of you," he said, his voice as steady as ever.

you gave him a small nod before offering a soft smile. "you too." then, after a pause, you added, "and… i really had fun today, just so you know."

leehan's expression lit up like he wanted to say something more, but instead, he just let out a small breath and nodded. "me too, y/n." his gaze drifted over your shoulder, noticing your friends waiting, and whatever he was about to say seemed to slip away. he just smiled faintly and took a small step back. "see you tomorrow?"

"yeah, see you."

as you turned to rejoin your friends, you immediately caught the way they were grinning at you. three pairs of teasing eyes. but this time, you didn't roll your eyes or launch into a defense. instead, you just smiled back at them, a little shyly.

"love is in the air, and i'm a mold spore," minji sighed dramatically, folding her arms.

moka and bae chuckled, locking arms like a pair of delighted married couple for 50 years.

"time does wonders, minji," moka sneered playfully before nudging your side. "anyway, shall we?"

you were about to nod, but then you remembered sungho, wanting to congratulate him up-close

"wait," you turned back toward the school building. "let's wait for sungho and his bandmates for a bit. i haven't gotten the chance to congratulate them properly."

your friends exchanged glances but agreed without hesitation.

luckily, you didn't have to wait long. a minute later, sungho's voice called out from behind, his usual energy evident in his tone.

"y/n!"

you turned just in time to see him jogging toward you, a wide grin plastered across his face. behind him, his bandmates walked at a much calmer pace, clearly still riding the high of their victory.

"how was it?" sungho asked as he reached you, slightly breathless.

you nudged his shoulder playfully. "congratulations, sungho. i loved it. like, really loved it."

sungho's grin widened before he glanced over at your friends.

"it was lit!" moka declared, pumping a fist in the air. bae and minji nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

sungho chuckled before turning back to you, "and… the last song? what did you think?"

you pursed your lips, pretending to think, before tilting your head at him. "i think you're silly."

sungho let out a small laugh, "fair enough." then, after a moment, his gaze turned a little more serious. "let's talk?"

you hesitated for a second before nodding. "yeah."

your friends stayed behind as you and sungho walked a short distance away, crossing the street to where a quieter sidewalk stretched out. a row of benches lined the pavement, and you both took a seat on one.

"i also have something to tell you," you admitted, folding your hands together on your lap.

"me too," sungho said.

you gestured for him to go first, watching as he took a deep breath, his hands slipping out of his pockets.

"y/n…" he exhaled slowly, gathering his thoughts before looking at you. "i want to take you out on a proper date. i want to court you." his voice was steady, and there was something incredibly sincere about the way he said it. "i like you a lot. and i really want to have a chance with you."

you sighed softly, a guilty smile on your lips as you lowered your head. you reached out, gently placing a hand on his right arm.

"look, sungho…" you started, but this time, he didn't stop you.

"i loved the song. i appreciate your admiration toward me. i'm grateful that you see me in ways i don't even see myself, but…" you hesitated, taking in a deep breath before looking down again.

"i don't want to lose you as my friend," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "you're great, sungho, but i just… i just can't see myself being with you like that, and i'm already sure of it."

there was a long silence.

when you finally gathered the courage to look up, you expected disappointment, or maybe even hurt, but instead, all you saw was understanding. sungho just watched you, his eyes were warm, and patient. he said nothing, sensing that you weren't finished yet.

"and… sungho, i like—"

"leehan?" he cut in respectfully.

your breath hitched for a second, but you eventually nodded, humming a quiet yes. sungho simply sat there. then, without warning, he stood up. your heart lurched—was he upset? was he going to storm off?

but then he knelt in front of you instead, taking your balled fists in his hands.

"i had a feeling," he admitted softly. his expression was so kind, so heartbreakingly gentle. "i just… tried to shoot my shot again. just in case there was even a tiny chance. but now that you've said it out loud…" he sighed, squeezing your hands once before setting them back on your lap. "that's my cue to step back."

"i enjoyed every second with you, and i don't regret writing that song for you," sungho continued. then, he cracked a small grin. "but if you want it taken down, i totally will."

you let out a small, choked laugh, the lump in your throat loosening. "of course not, and really, thank you."

"good." sungho tapped your palm before standing up fully. "no need to thank me, by the way. if anything, i should be thanking you for coming into my life, for bringing light as my crush… and now, as my best friend."

your smile wobbled slightly, but you held steady.

sungho stretched his arms over his head, then suddenly smirked. "and hey, at least i didn't lose to just any guy."

you raised an eyebrow. "hm?"

"it was my brother," sungho pointed out dramatically. "that stings a little, but if it had to be anyone… i'm glad it's him. he's a good guy. he just needs a little push sometimes."

you nodded, agreeing. but then something about his wording struck you as odd.

"i'm in… safe hands?" you echoed, squinting at him.

sungho visibly straightened, as if realizing something. his eyes darted away, and suddenly, he looked very much like a man who had just given away classified information.

"i mean— i'm just saying, he wouldn't hurt you. if he found out you had a fat crush on him," he quickly backtracked.

you narrowed your eyes suspiciously, but he had already started walking away, heading toward your friends.

"trust me," sungho called back over his shoulder, flashing you one last knowing grin. "give him time."

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

after turning sungho down, you went your own way with your friends, and sungho did too, spending the night swinging around with jooyeon, junhan, and jay. he needed time to process everything, to laugh things off, to pretend, even just for a little while, that nothing had changed. they stayed out until midnight, letting the city lights blur the reality he wasn’t quite ready to face.

by the time he finally made it back to their apartment, exhaustion clung to him like a second skin.

as he stepped inside, he wasn’t expecting to find anyone awake, but there was leehan, standing by the kitchen counter. he was in his usual white shirt and pajama pants, black glasses perched on his nose, hair a tousled mess like he'd been running his hands through it all night. a glass of water sat in his hand, half-finished.

"wow, so early," leehan muttered as he set the glass down on the counter.

sungho just sighed, too drained to come up with a snarky response, and dropped down onto the couch with a heavy exhale. leehan followed, mirroring his posture, one leg resting against the coffee table.

"congrats on the win," leehan said, his tone was casual, but not completely indifferent. "y'all did awesome. i wasn't surprised that you won."

sungho barely reacted, just muttering a single, exhausted "thanks" before shutting his eyes.

leehan glanced at him, then did a double take. something was off.

"you look like you just got dumped," he joked, not thinking much of it.

sungho let out a dry chuckle, cracking an eye open. "ddaeng ddaeng, bingo."

leehan blinked. then blinked again. "wait… seriously?"

sungho cracked an eye open, his smirk was faint but still there. "yeah. i did."

"y/n?" leehan asked, though he already knew the answer.

sungho gave a small nod, confirming it. for a second, leehan actually felt bad. sungho didn't look heartbroken, not exactly, but there was a bittersweet acceptance in the way he sat there, shoulders slightly slumped, like he'd seen it coming but still wished it had ended differently.

"i—"

"don’t," sungho cut him off before he could say anything. "it's good. i already had a hunch before she even said it."

leehan stared at him. "i mean… you get mad, but do you not hate me right now? like, two times more than usual whenever we argued about her?"

sungho let out a small snort. "why would i take it that far?" he turned his head slightly, finally looking at leehan. "i get jealous, yeah. but now that it's settled, i won't be. also, you've been in love with her for years. i was the one who barged in."

leehan didn't say anything. for a moment, he had convinced himself that sungho was the better choice, that he didn't stand a chance. he spent years suppressing himself. but now, hearing this, sungho willingly stepping aside, it didn't quite feel real.

"you've always been stubborn," sungho continued, smirking slightly. "but this time, you were an idiot."

leehan frowned. "what?"

"you thought you had no chance, so you never even tried." sungho turned to face him fully. "but... you had higher chances than you think." his voice was teasing, but there was seriousness, like he was hinting at something more without saying it outright.

leehan swallowed. the words hit deeper than he expected.

sungho smirked wider. "you finally grew up."

leehan blinked, still caught off guard. "huh?"

"i'm proud of you," sungho said, his voice quieter now, more sincere. "for finally being a man."

leehan tensed slightly, not expecting the sudden shift in tone. "where is this coming from...? so cheesy."

sungho just grinned, then, before leehan could react, he reached out and ruffled his hair, just like he used to when they were kids.

"my young little baby leehan is all grown up now."

leehan huffed, swatting his hand away, but his reaction came a second too late, his vision blurred for just a moment.

sungho caught it instantly. "what's this? why are your eyes getting all shiny?"

"they're not," leehan muttered, sniffing. he quickly wiped at his face, trying to play it off, but sungho wasn't buying it.

sungho just chuckled. "what's that? say it again, but without the sniffling."

"shut up," leehan grumbled, but despite himself, he was truly smiling.

sungho didn't bring up your feelings. that wasn't his place. he wanted leehan to hear it from you directly.

instead, he simply patted his brother's back. "i'm happy for you, no matter what."

leehan let out a shaky laugh, rubbing at his eyes again. "thank you, hyung."

and for the first time in a long while since the arguments, the silent rivalries, and everything between them felt right again.

sungho grinned. "just don't make me regret giving up."

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

that night opened a door for leehan, clearing something inside him. he had one of the best sleeps he'd had in a while and woke up eager to see you at the exhibit.

you, on the other hand, were restless—your mind tangled in endless worries. between leehan and the exhibit itself, you had plenty to stress over. at least sungho was off the checklist; you'd finally settled things with him, and it was for the best.

determined to present your best self today, you carefully picked out your outfit. you styled your long brown hair into a neat bun, securing it with a pencil, with your wispy bangs framing your face just right. a floral light blue dress with a white collar, paired with white stockings and matching doll shoes, gave you an effortlessly artsy look. you even swapped out your thick-rimmed glasses for a clear, thin-framed pair so they wouldn't clash with the aesthetic.

you weren't sure why you felt the need to dress to impress. maybe because you'd be standing next to an insanely well-done portrait, and you didn't want to look like a joke beside it. whatever the reason, you loved how you looked, and that was enough.

arriving early at the art hall, you were immediately greeted by the other participants, all dressed up for the event. the spacious hall buzzed with excitement.

"so pretty today!" a second-year student called out from across the room.

"only today?!" you joked.

"everyday," she chuckled, and you shared a laugh before turning back to admire your masterpiece.

leehan had done you a huge favor by agreeing to be your subject. the piece had come out better than you'd even hoped.

by 3 pm, the hall was packed—students from different classes, years, and even other schools filled the space. professors from various universities roamed the hall, praising the young artists and commending your university for fostering such talent.

as expected, your portrait of leehan drew plenty of attention. people lingered, taking their time to admire it. some praised your skills, while others predictably asked about your muse. who is he? how did you get leehan to agree? was there something going on between you two? at this point, you didn't even have the energy to be annoyed. you just met those questions with indifference.

not long after, sungho arrived, hair tousled from the ride, rubbing off his helmet.

"came here to support you," he grinned, pulling you into a quick, friendly hug.

"thank you, sungho," you pouted slightly, slouching against him.

"sorry i can't stay long, got a gig in an hour. but i'll take a picture of you with your portrait and post it on my social. that way, more people can see it. does that make up for it?"

"you're crazy! that's already too much. in fact, you don't need to make up for anything. i feel bad for making you rush over an hour before an important gig."

"shush." sungho hissed, cutting you off. "no more words."

you smiled, appreciating the gesture as the two of you caught up briefly before he had to leave.

shortly after, minji, bae, and moka arrived, all looking extra supportive as they approached your wall.

"you're so prettyyy!" moka squealed, immediately pulling you into a hug.

"whoa, whoa, whoa—how is leehan actually so good-looking here?!" minji exaggerated, hugging you next while eyeing your piece.

"in my opinion, he's always been good-looking," bae chimed in, nudging you. "you just managed to capture it perfectly with your impressive skills."

"finally, a normal praise that includes both me and leehan," you joked, making them all laugh.

the four of you stood there, chatting.

"has leehan seen this yet?" minji asked.

"not yet. he's supposed to come, but he's not here yet," you said, glancing up at the portrait.

"this is actually so perfect," moka hummed, leaning against bae, who nodded in agreement.

"thank you, guys. you're making all my worries fly away," you pouted at them.

"nothing to worry about, y/n. you're doing so good!" bae reassured you.

they took a closer look at the plaque below the portrait, reading the title of your piece.

moka pointed at it. "what is this cheesy name?" she turned to you, curious.

you smiled, a thoughtful expression crossing your face. "he was, though."

for a moment, your thoughts drifted to leehan.

moka let out a dramatic sniffle, pretending to wipe away tears. "i knew this day would come. we're so proud of you."

she leaned on bae, while minji and bae gave you the same proud-parent look.

you could only laugh, feeling a mix of emotions—gratitude, excitement, and maybe just a tiny bit of nerves. because somewhere in this crowd, leehan would soon arrive. and you weren't sure how he would react.

and, just as you called it, your eyes instinctively flickered toward the entrance, and there he was. kim leehan, classic

he stood across the room, framed perfectly under the warm glow of the gallery lights, like he had just stepped out of one of the paintings. his black semi-formal button-up clung just right, the top two buttons undone, revealing a hint of collarbone. his blonde hair, usually tousled, had been styled back, well, mostly. a few stubborn strands had slipped forward, softening his sharp features. white trousers balanced out his effortless look, but nothing shined brighter than the best part of all—his smile.

it was blinding, radiating through the crowd like a beacon, and even from across the room, it was clear that he was looking at you.

he didn't rush. he didn't push through the people admiring the art. instead, he walked toward you with the same quiet confidence he always had, measured and steady, like he wanted to take in every second of this moment.

your heart raced a little, but you tipped onto your toes slightly, hands clasped behind your back, waiting as if you'd been expecting this moment all along.

when he finally reached you, you grinned up at him. "hey, you made it."

leehan's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled back. "i did." then, with a teasing lilt, he added, "i almost mistook you for one of the sculptures here."

you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you lightly nudged his arm. "what was that supposed to mean?"

he tilted his head slightly, his gaze running over you in a way that made you red.

"you just look really beautiful."

the words were simple, yet they landed heavier than you expected, it wasn't playful. it wasn't hesitant. it was just honest and a genuine one.

your fingers instinctively smoothed over your outfit, trying to ground yourself. "well, i can't exactly stand next to a handsome portrait looking basic," you said, trying to keep it light.

leehan finally glanced up at the large painting behind you, the one capturing his face in the most delicate, intentional strokes. his brows raised slightly as he took it in, the realization settling.

"so this is why people kept staring at me when i walked in," he murmured, stepping closer to the canvas. his fingers hovered near the edge of the frame, as if he wanted to touch it but held back.

you moved beside him, mirroring his stance as you both stood in front of the painting.

"it's like you made this with so much passion," he continued, his voice softer now. "that's why they love it. it feels… alive."

you turned to him, watching the way his eyes traced every detail. "i did paint it with passion. i was with you through it."

leehan's eyes flickered downward, catching sight of the small plate beneath the frame. he squinted slightly as he read it aloud. "the… moment?"

you nodded, a small, genuine smile curved on your lips.

"yeah," you said. "you were the moment."

a beat passed before leehan inhaled, looking down for a split second before turning fully to face you.

"no." he spoke. "you were the moment."

the shift was almost tangible. for the first time, everything—the years of wondering, the quiet longing, the unanswered questions, felt like they had finally led to this very second.

leehan's gaze didn't falter, didn't shift away like it had so many times before. instead, it softened, deepened, held you in place. and then, just as gently, he reached for your hand. his fingers were warm as they laced through yours.

"y/n…" he sung your name. "you have always been the moment. my moment. ever since ninth grade…"

your lips parted slightly, surprised, heart hammering against your ribs as he squeezed your hand a little tighter.

"i was an idiot for ignoring you for years," he admitted, his brows knitting together. "i let fear get in the way, fear of things that weren't even real. i was a coward. i couldn't even see what was right in front of me anymore."

he exhaled sharply, as if trying to steady himself before he continued.

"y/n, i ignored you because i liked you—so much, too much. it felt unreal. and it scared me."

you inhaled, but no words came out. he wasn't done yet.

"it was never minju." he shook his head slightly. "it was always you. your questions, the answers… everything has always been you, y/n." his other hand came up, enveloping yours between both of his. "i'm sorry. for all of it."

you let out a slow breath, eyes never leaving his. then, finally, you smiled.

"i forgave you a long time ago," you said gently. "the moment you finally started letting me in, all those silly ignoring games didn't matter anymore. we were kids, leehan. young. you were trying to figure things out, and i can't blame you for that." you squeezed his hands reassuringly. "but this moment right here? it just proves how much we've both grown."

leehan let out a quiet chuckle, his eyes glistening a little. his grip tightened, as if grounding himself in you.

"i want to be closer to you," he said, more determined now. "i need to. i need to make up for the past three years by proving to you just how much i care."

your heart swelled, your smile widening. "i want that too," you whispered. "i just… liked you a lot too."

leehan's eyes lit up before he let out a small, amused scoff. "since when?"

you bit your lip before giggling. "i think… since middle school. but i only really figured it out this year when we got closer. back then, i thought i was just upset that you wouldn't be my friend, but now i realize… i just wanted your attention." you laughed at yourself. "i wanted you to like me back."

leehan let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. "this is such a life-changing fun fact."

"the more we know," you teased.

both of your laughter filled the space before, without warning, he leaned in and pressed a soft, quick kiss to your cheek. the warmth of it spread through your entire body like a ripple, your eyes widening slightly as you froze.

leehan leaned back with a satisfied smirk. "one off my checklist. only about two hundred more to go."

it took you a second to process, but then, you broke into the happiest smile of your life.

whatever lay ahead of you and leehan felt promising. there was no rush, no pressure—just a path unfolding slowly but surely, step by step. just like the warmth of his love, easing into your life.

slowly, but all at once.

[fanfics4all]

Crimson Ties

Request: Yes / No Ok, this might be kinda weird but I was thinking about reader being being FP Jones's oldest daughter (she's around 25 to 26) being in the BAU and dating Spencer. They go to Riverdale for a case and Spencer originally didn't really think about meeting readers' parents at all. But when he gets there he has to work with the new sheriff... FP and is terrified the entire time. If not that's ok Anon

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Spencer Reid x Fem!Jones!Reader 

Word count: 1546

Warnings: Mentions of murder but nothing specific 

Y/N: Your Name 

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

A/N: I love this so much tbh, I really might do a part 2

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

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(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

Growing up in Riverdale, I learned early on that I had two choices, let my circumstances define me or fight my way out. I chose the latter. Being FP Jones’ daughter came with baggage. The Serpents, the drinking, the unstable home life- I knew I had to work twice as hard to build something better for myself. I threw myself into school, determined to prove that I was more than just the daughter of a gang leader. 

By the time I made it to the FBI Academy, I had already perfected the art of pushing through adversity. Long nights of studying and grueling physical training, but I never backed down. When I was recruited into the BAU at twenty-four, it felt like all of my sacrifices had finally been worth it. The BAU was everything I had worked for, but it was also more than I expected. The cases were brutal, the weight of each victim’s story pressing against my chest. But the team? They became my family. 

And then there was Spencer Reid. 

At first, he was just my colleague- the genius with an eidetic memory and an endearing ability to ramble about statistics and obscure literature. I had never met someone like him before. He saw the world in numbers and theories, but at the same time, he had this overwhelming kindness that made it impossible not to be drawn to him. 

We started as friends. Coffee breaks turned into late-night case discussions, which turned into inside jokes and shared book recommendations. I wasn’t sure when my feelings for him changed, but one day, I caught myself looking forward to seeing him more than anyone else. I started noticing the way his face lit up when he talked about something he loved, the way he would always make sure I ate during long cases, the way he never pried into my past but somehow understood me anyway. 

And then one night, after a particularly rough case, Spencer blurted out something about the statistical probability of workplace relationships working out. I remember raising an eyebrow at him, realizing what he was trying to say, and before he could spiral into another nervous rant, I kissed him. 

Now, two years into my career at the BAU, I had more than just a job I was proud of, I had him. Spencer, with his never-ending knowledge and his gentle heart, was the best thing I never saw coming. He’d read to me after long days, his voice a comforting lullaby in a world full of chaos. I taught him how to ride a motorcycle, laughing when he hesitated before finally getting the hang of it. I had spent my whole life trying to outrun Riverdale, but with Spencer, I finally understood- I didn’t have to run anymore.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was just about to head home for the night when my phone buzzed. The name on the screen made my stomach tighten- Daddy. 

Dad and I had come a long way from the messy, broken relationship we once had. After years of struggling with addiction and gang life, he’d finally turned things around, earning back Jughead and Jellybeans’ trust and even becoming sheriff of Riverdale. I was proud of him. But he rarely called unless it was serious 

I answered immediately. “Daddy? What’s wrong?”

His voice was gruff, but there was an unmistakable edge of worry beneath it. 

“Y/N/N, I need your help.” Those five words made my heart skip a beat. 

“What’s going on?” I asked, gripping the edge of my desk. 

He sighed. “We’ve got a situation here. A couple murders, four bodies so far, and all killed the same way. Small town like this? We ain’t equipped for somethin’ like this. I need the BAU, Y/N. And…” He hesitated, then added. “I need you.” 

I swallowed hard. I had spent years distancing myself from Riverdale, trying to build a new life away from the ghosts of my past. But no matter how far I went, it was still my hometown. My Dad was still my Dad, and my younger siblings- Juggie and JB- they were still there. If there was a killer on the loose, I needed to do something. 

“Email me everything you have.” I told him. “I’ll bring it up to my boss.” 

“Thank you, Princess.” Dad’s voice softened, a rare moment of vulnerability. 

“I know comin’ back won’t be easy, but… I trust you.” 

After we hung up, I took a deep breath and opened my laptop. A few minutes later, an email from Dad came through, containing crim scene photos, coroner reports, and his own notes. I scrolled through the images, my stomach twisting at the brutality. The unsub was organized and calculated. This wasn’t just random violence, this was methodical. I printed out the file and headed straight for Hotch’s office. Knocking twice, I stepped in. 

“Agent Jones.” He acknowledged, looking up from his paperwork. 

“Sir, I just got off the phone with my Dad, FP Jones, sheriff of Riverdale. They have an active serial murder case. Four victims, same MO. He’s requesting the BAU’s assistance.” I placed the file on his desk. 

Hotch opened it, flipping through the images with the sharp gaze of someone who had seen too many horrors. He didn’t speak for a moment, analyzing the details before finally looking up. 

“I’ll have Garcia pull everything she can. If what your Father says is accurate, we should be there as soon as possible.” He closed the file and handed it back to me. 

“Gather the team, please.” 

I nodded, turning to leave, but his voice stopped me. 

“Jones.” He said, his tone softer. “This is personal for you. If at any point you need to step back, let me know.” 

I met his gaze and gave a small, determined nod. “I appreciate it, sir. But I can handle it.” 

As I walked out, I quickly made my way through the bullpen. First stop, Morgan. 

“Hey, pretty girl.” He greeted me, leaning back in his chair. “What’s up?” 

“We’ve got a case.” 

His expression sobered immediately. “Where?” 

I hesitated for only a second before saying. “Riverdale.” 

His eyebrows shot up. “Your hometown?” 

I just nodded, already moving to find the others. Within minutes, I had gathered Emily, JJ, Rossi, and Spencer, quickly briefing them on what I knew. As expected, Spencer’s brow furrowed in concern when he realized where we were headed. 

“Y/N… are you sure you’re okay with this?” 

I took a deep breath and met his eyes. “I don’t really have a choice. My family is there.” 

That was all the explanation they needed. Hotch returned a moment later. 

“Garcia’s pulling everything now. Wheels up in thirty.” 

The jet hummed softly as we settled in for the flight to Riverdale. Spencer sat beside me, his knee bouncing slightly, a telltale sign of his nerves. I reached over, placing a hand over his, and he immediately stilled, though I could feel the tension in his fingers. 

“You okay?” I asked, tilting my head to meet his eyes. 

He exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… your father used to be a gang leader. And your brother is now the leader of that same gang. And your little sister grew up around all of that. There’s a statistical probability of-” 

I squeezed his hand. “Spence, they’re not gonna bite.” I smirked. “Okay, maybe Jughead will give you a hard time, but he’s all talk.” 

“Jughead?” JJ asked. 

“It’s a nickname.” I shrugged. 

Morgan, who had been listening in, chuckled. “Kid, you realize you’re about to meet a family that survived gang wars, corrupt mayors, and serial killers, right? You might be a genius, but I don’t know if that brain of yours is gonna save you from this one.” 

Emily smirked. “Y/N’s family is basically the Riverdale Mafia.” 

“Hey! We ain’t the Lodges!” I protested, but even JJ was laughing at this point. 

Rossi leaned back in his seat, a knowing smile on his face. “I give it ten minutes before your Father pulled him aside for a ‘friendly’ chat about how he’ll bury you in the woods if you hurt his daughter.” 

Spencer paled. “I-I would never hurt her.” 

“Good answer.” Emily teased. “But you might want to tell FP that before he comes after you with a shotgun.” 

I rolled my eyes. “You guys are the worst.” 

Morgan leaned forward, grinning at me. “I still can’t believe you were a biker babe in your teens. You, all studious and determined in the Academy, and meanwhile, you used to ride around town like some kind of rebel?” 

“I had layers.” I said dramatically, flipping my hair over my shoulder. 

“And for the record, I still have my bike.” 

Morgan let out a low whistle. “Damn, pretty girl. Now I really want to see the old you in action.” 

Spencer groaned softly, muttering something about how my family was definitely going to eat him alive. I just leaned in and kissed his cheek, whispering. 

“Relax. They’re gonna love you.” 

Even if he didn’t believe me yet, I knew the moment they saw how much he meant to me, my family would accept him... Well, after Dad gave him ‘the talk’. 

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @madammarvellous-blog1 @pettyjayy @bruisedfists-and-splitlips @answer-the-sirens @andreasworlsboring101 @reidssmile @currentfangirl-futuremedexaminer @mggstyles @satans-0-spawn @emofairygay @thesoftestwarlock @liz-owl 

[puppppppppy]

reading life changing fanfiction of a subjectively underwhelming source media is a special kind of hell

[cat-of-starlight]

Me playing "Library of Runia" and "Limbus Company" like-

Me, a casual player, putting my funny little characters together while the Pro Gamers™ debate about character/mechanic meta

[raiiny-bay]

there is something so fun about just putting my boys in Situations

[dan-crimes]

The world isn't ready for all my amazing and wonderful takes on media but maybe my OCs will make them understand...

[voluptuarian]

My 30-something wisdom is that your palate is constantly changing so don't assume because you hated a food 10 or 20 years ago you still will. Most radically, your taste as a little kid is not indicative of what it will be as an adult-- I've known too many adults who still refuse to eat anything but chicken strips and ketchup because they're still basing their taste on what they experienced at 8 years old and so have cut themselves off from the entire world of adult taste. In my case, my taste for savory foods, especially vegetable dishes, "bitter" foods, and more complex flavor combinations has really expanded. I didn't like mushrooms as a child or for most of my 20s, but around 28 suddenly they worked for me. I started enjoying dark chocolate around 25, especially paired with fruit flavors. I've never been hugely fond of eggplant but discovered that in a sauce or roasted in butter and oil its delicious. I've always enjoyed fish but in the last 15 years I've discovered a passion for it, salmon especially. I've learned to recognize the tastes of herbs and love putting them into everything I can (currently I'm most enthusiastic about dill.) I'm also suddenly crazy about all kinds of sandwiches. And I'm still trying olives every couple years in case suddenly they start working for me, though sadly no luck on that front yet. So basically, expect that your taste is going to change in adulthood and expect that it will keep changing. And you can also work to develop your palate by exposing yourself to new flavors and combinations and cuisines, opening you up to even more foods you might never have liked before. So keep trying new and old foods, because you never know when you might suddenly start liking something new or discover a new way it can be prepared or a new texture it can come in. Don't wind up imprisoned in a world of chicken strips just because you haven't tried anything else since 3rd grade, you deserve better.

[bloodnight-blaze]

“ who cares, baby? i think i wanna marry you. ”

ft. xavier, zayne, rafayel, and sylus w a gn!reader.

synopsis: you marry the love of your life.

notes: started off as silly thoughts for my friend and then turned into this so. take it. enjoy it.

warnings: not canon to the story of the game, self-indulgent, weddings, sickeningly sweet fluff, they all cry lol, it's short and it's sweet, reader does wear a dress so sorry if that's something that makes you uncomfortable, petnames used: starlight (x), sunshine (z), angel (r), princess (s).

XAVIER — certainly fantasized about getting married, but it was never something he actually expected to happen. Not until he met you. It wasn't love at first sight, but when you two entered a relationship, he could just see himself marrying you.

When he proposed, he had been so nervous that he barely slept the night before, which is saying something. But you accepted with a bright smile, and the man nearly smothered you to death with a hug. The mere thought of marrying you has him smiling, honestly.

He doesn't care how big or small the wedding is, though when it turns out to be a small wedding he finds he prefers it that way. There's an air of excitement at the wedding, most of the guests being your own friends and family since there wasn't anyone for him to invite.

Xavier knew he was going to cry. There's no denying it, he knew he'd cry at some point during the day because, I mean... he's marrying you. He's the luckiest man alive. He just thought he'd hold strong a little longer, but the tears were falling when you walked down the aisle in your breathtaking dress.

His gaze was drawn to you the entire time. Nothing else mattered but you. The way the fairy lights bathed you in this beautiful golden glow, the way you smiled at him with all the love in the world... it was like you contained galaxies in your eyes.

The vows were short and sweet, and when the officiant says you two can kiss, he was quick to gently cup your face in his hands. He could only hope the kiss he pressed against your lips conveyed the sheer and utter adoration he felt for you.

This was the beginning of a new chapter for the two of you, and while he's sure nothing will change, he can't help but being excited at the idea of being able to refer to you as his spouse.

ㅤ— “ I love you, my starlight. Until every last star dies, I love you. ”

ZAYNE — had always known that he would marry you one day. Ever since you two were kids, he had imagined it. You're the only person he's ever loved, so if he ever got married, it would be to you or no one at all. It was only a matter of time, really.

The actual proposal was nothing big. You two had dinner at his place and the box with the ring rested in the place he knew you'd be able to see it. He hadn't been nervous when he proposed, but he can't deny that his heart was racing when he popped the question.

He'll definitely want the wedding to be small, just a couple of friends and family on each side. His parents were overjoyed to learn about his engagement and made sure to clear their schedule for the day of the wedding, and he had invited a few friends from work as well.

Zayne hadn't really wanted to cry, especially not in front of so many people, but he couldn't stop the tears from blurring his gaze when he saw you walking down the aisle. How could he not cry, when he felt so overwhelmed by his love for you?

It was the first time he saw you in your wedding dress as well, since you had been so adamant at keeping to tradition. You weren't lying when you said you would match your dress to his suit.

The bouquet of flowers in your hands only added to the beauty of... everything about you. So he won't deny that he cried, his gaze never once breaking from you even when the officiant started to speak.

He was able to keep his tears in check for the rest of the ceremony, and once you two were home and no longer wearing your wedding clothes, he found it near impossible to stray from your side for you long. His hand was almost always interlocked with yours, his finger absently brushing against the wedding wing that bound the two of you together.

ㅤ— “ You've always been the love of my life, sunshine. You always will. ”

RAFAYEL — never thought about marriage. It's not something that ever entered his mind, and he avoided attending any weddings just to dodge the inevitable 'so when will we get an invite to your wedding' he'll no doubt be met with. It isn't until you entered his life that he started to give it some thought.

And when he did decide to propose to you, it had been spur of the moment. He bought the ring on a whim months ago, and he kept it in his pocket almost every time you two went out, waiting for the perfect moment. That perfect moment just so happens to be you spending the night at his place, laughing at his smears paint on your face. The question slipped out, and he seemed more shocked than you.

He was adamant on keeping the thing small, even though Thomas wanted to invite a bunch of people once the man found out about the engagement.

The only people Rafayel was willing to invite was Thomas and a couple of crabs he befriended. Sure, your family and friends questioned why they were being seated with crabs, but it's not their wedding, now is it?

Before the wedding starts, he had gone to the bathroom to give himself a lengthy pep talk about how he was not going to cry at all at any point during the wedding. And for a good portion of it, he didn't. When you walked down the aisle wearing a beautiful dress that reminded him of the ocean, he didn't cry. When you guys shared your vows, exchanged rings, and kissed, he didn't cry.

No, Rafayel only cried when the first dance started. When the lights dimmed and you took his hand and pulled him close, he could feel his heart stuttering. You looked at him as if he were the only person in the world, like you never wanted to look away. The feeling of your wedding ring was cool against his skin, and it was impossible to stop the tears at this point.

He spent the entirety of your first dance together with his head buried in your shoulder just so people couldn't see his tears. Only you got to see him like this, because there's no one else he'd rather be vulnerable with.

ㅤ— “ I'd marry you over and over again, angel, until you get sick of me. ”

SYLUS — certainly thought marriage was something he'd never experience, given his lifestyle. What person would be insane enough to marry the leader of Onychinus, let alone date the man? You, apparently, because you became a pivotal part of his life.

He won't propose until he's absolutely certain that marrying him is something you'd be willing to do. Marrying him means really accepting the darker parts that come with being in a relationship with him, and he didn't want to force you into such a commitment. And when he does propose, he can't help the relief he feels when you say yes.

While the wedding isn't necessarily big, a few of his most trusted associates are invited, alongside your family and friends should you invite them. It's a strange mix of people, and a few of your friends will probably pull you to the side after the ceremony to ask what exactly it is that your husband does for a living.

For the most part, Sylus won't cry during the ceremony. Though, once you two start to recite your vows to each other, he does choke up a bit. Any man would be a fool not to tear up at the sight of their spouse professing their love to them. And it doesn't help that you're looking at him with pure and utter devotion in your gaze.

You were okay with who he was. With what he does. You weren't scared off by the darker aspects of his life, and you were vowing to stick by his side through whatever the world threw at you two. Crying only seemed natural. Other than the vows, Sylus stayed composed. Softer, than usual, but overall he kept his usual demeanor.

Truly, he thinks he could die happy now that he's married to you. The ring on his finger was a comfortable weight, and he'd find himself looking at it way more than he'd care to admit.

He spoiled you rotten before you two were married, but trust it'll only get worse now that you're his spouse. Anything you want, he'll get it for you. You deserve the whole world for wanting to spend the rest of your life with him.

ㅤ— “ I'm staring? How can I not stare at the key to my heart, princess? ”

[unintentionalseductress]

My Beloved Boys

Warnings: MDNI, sex, virginity loss, threesome, oral (m rec), clit play, childhood friends to lovers trope. Liberties taken with the timeline, this is not the canon timeline, ages have been changed for story convenience. ANGSTY. A/n: Caleb got me ya'll. I tried, I tried really hard, I promise. And now this is what my ovulating brain has cooked up. Please enjoy it. I know this wasn't on my upcoming but I couldn't help it. Also please note, reader, Caleb, and Zayne are all the same age aka 18 here. Not proofread, expect raw text and descriptions.

It had been a few weeks since you’d joined UNICORNS and Tara invited you over to her place for a girls’ weekend. All of you were comfortably laid out in different parts of her living room, drinking wine and eating slices of pizza from the box.

The night had been fun, and with an entire bottle now empty, the women were loosening up and the topics were getting more and more risque. From complaining about exes to sex, to size measurements, they had finally arrived on the subject of virginity. 

“So, what was your first time like?” All eyes are suddenly fixed on you and you feel self-conscious. Taking a sip of your wine, you try not to flush as you vividly remember all the details like it was yesterday.

“Oh, you know. Awkward. Shy. The usual.” You try to act nonchalant but Tara leans forward with a gleam in her eye. 

“Oh come on! Tell us!”

Looking at the crowd of eager faces, you empty your glass before confessing, “My first time…was with two people.” You wait with bated breath, and slowly, one by one, everyone’s eyes widen with comprehension.

“Excuse me?” Tara squeals and sinks her fingers into your arm. You wince and pry her off.

“A threesome for your first time?” One of the other women joined in, a huge grin on her face. “Did it hurt?”

“Why a threesome? Was it something you fantasized about?”

You shake your head no at all the questions. “No. Growing up, I had two best friends and I loved them dearly. I just…couldn’t choose between them both.” 

“Tell us everything.” Tara sits down on the carpet and all the women gather in a tight circle looking eagerly at you. You sigh and extend your glass.

“Get me more wine.”

જ⁀➴જ⁀➴જ⁀➴

~Flashback~

It was the summer after graduating senior year. You were enjoying what would possibly be the last summer before everyone went their separate ways. Life had been rough for you, losing your family several years earlier. But now, you had a grandmother, and 2 best friends who had been through everything with you. Still, the memories brought back a sense of bittersweet nostalgia. Your nextdoor neighbor Zayne, and your grandmother’s other ward Caleb, were your inseparable companions since you had moved in with Josephine after the devastating wanderer attack that had destroyed most of Linkon City. 

Zayne and Caleb were alike, yet different. Both of them were tall and intelligent. Zayne was stoic and introverted, whereas Caleb was extroverted and easygoing. Somehow, the three of you became a unit, never seen without the other two in tow. Any escapades or shenanigans were always done together. You’d done homework together, fell asleep on the living room floor watching cartoons, and shared many meals in the last few years. The idea of being without them seemed unthinkable. Impossible in fact. You’d assumed you would all stay together in Linkon forever.

That had all changed last year, the summer before your senior year. You had been looking forward to spending the summer with Zayne and Caleb. But as the three of you had sat down at your usual boba tea spot, Zayne became very quiet as you started discussing plans for the summer. 

“What’s wrong with you? Is your tea not cold enough? You can just use your evol right?” Caleb had teased, sipping his drink. He gives Zayne a playful jab and Zayne glares at him, adjusting his glasses that had slipped down his nose. 

“Zayne?” You reach out and cover his hand with yours, hoping he’ll talk. There was a strange expression on his face. “Talk to us.”

“Yeah, Zayne. Talk to us.” Caleb widens his eyes and covers your hand with his. “We’re here for you boy,” he says with a tinge of mockery, making his voice sound high and feminine and you give him a withering look, pulling your hand out of the pile.

Zayne sips his milk tea, then quietly says, “I might not be here for most of the summer.” Caleb and you exchange a look before glancing back at Zayne. 

“What do you mean?”

Zayne looks apologetic like he regrets not sharing this news earlier. “I’ll be touring colleges most of the summer. And my parents decided to make it a road trip.”

“Colleges?” Caleb looked intrigued. “You already started applications?”

“I did. And…several of them have already sent in offers for next fall.” 

“What?!” You’re louder than you had intended to be. Zayne winces and you lower your voice. “You’ve already received acceptance letters and didn’t bother telling us?” 

“I’m sorry.” Zayne holds up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I just didn’t know how to bring it up. Neither of you had mentioned college and I didn’t want to talk about it if you weren’t ready.”

“But Zaynie!” Caleb puts a hand on his chest looking wounded. “We’re a family bro! Why wouldn’t you tell us?”

Zayne shakes his head and drinks his tea. You’re about to as well when realization washes over you. “Wait. You said you had several acceptance letters.”

“I do.”

“Well, where are they? You’re staying in Linkon right?” You ask, and for some reason, your heartbeat is increasing. You wait for Zayne to say, of course, one of them is in Linkon and that’s his first choice. 

“I did receive an offer from Linkon Medical University. However…there are better programs.”

“Really? So you might move for college?” Caleb regards Zayne passively. 

“It’s not out of the question.”

An unnatural silence falls at the table as the three of you drink your teas. This was wonderful news for Zayne. You were happy for him, but inside, it felt like your heart had been tied into a painful knot. You knew Zayne was the smartest of your group and that he was destined to be a doctor. But you hadn’t even thought it would mean Zayne might not be in Linkon City anymore. From a professional standpoint, it made sense. He deserved to go to the best college. But it left you feeling hollow like his impending departure had fractured the carefully crafted life you’d built since you’d been taken in by your grandmother. 

“When are you leaving?” Caleb breaks the silence and you’re relieved. 

“Sometime in July.”

“Oh, great! We still have a month then.”

“Well…”

Caleb’s eyebrows knit together in dismay. “What?”

“I have some extra classes I need to take. I’m hoping to get a head start on the pre-med requisites.”

“So, you’re going to be in school all of June?” You try to hide your disappointment. 

Zayne sighs. “Unfortunately. I’ll still be around. We can make time to hang out.” 

You nod unenthusiastically, then hiss as you feel Caleb step on your foot under the table. His purple eyes give you a sharp glance and he gestures towards Zayne and you realize this wasn’t about you; Zayne had shared news that he knew would affect your dynamic but had done so thinking he would have the support of his friends. Caleb reminding you of your manners was humbling and you lowered your gaze.

“I’m really happy for you Zayne.” You murmur, then rearrange your features into what you hoped was a pleasant look of approval. “Congratulations.”

Zayne’s eyes seem to lighten at your appreciation. “Thank you. It took me by surprise actually.”

“Seriously Zaynie. That’s really impressive. So we’re gonna have a doctor amongst us. Hey, you better give us the good drugs if we ever come to you.” Caleb pats Zayne on the shoulder in an acclamatory fashion. Zayne’s demeanor visibly relaxes and you try to keep up a happy face for the rest of the evening.

જ⁀➴જ⁀➴જ⁀➴

The sun was starting to set by the time you got home, the lazy streaks of tangerine painting the sky vivid shades of pink and orange. There was a feeling of uneasiness in your stomach as you changed into pajamas and brushed your teeth. It had taken years for you to get some semblance of a family, and now someone was going away. AGAIN.

You try to reassure yourself that this wasn’t the same thing. Zayne might be going away for college but it wasn’t until next year. You still had your senior year left to build some precious final memories. Somehow, he seemed older all of a sudden, like he had become an adult within a few hours of telling you about his acceptance letters. You knew you’d be going to college too but hadn’t given much thought about any of it. After the Linkon City disaster, you had decided you didn’t want to wander too far away. You didn’t want to leave Grandma Josephine all by herself. Although Zayne seemed to have made up his mind about attending a college somewhere else, you reminded yourself that you still had Caleb. 

Caleb hadn’t talked about college much, but you knew he wanted to attend. He didn’t know what he would major in, but he was naturally gifted in mechanics. You assumed he would be an engineer or something similar. He and Zayne had inherited the math skills, and you’d managed to get a decent grade by studying with them, or rather, getting bullied by them, with Zayne trying not to snap explaining how he got the answer versus Caleb taunting you saying you’d never graduate high school if you were this stupid. It was then you had decided perhaps a career in science wasn’t for you. But perhaps something in the arts, or communications. Perhaps languages. You wondered if maybe you were kidding yourself by not already sending out applications, or at the very least, making a list of where you’d like to attend.

Restless and unable to turn off your mind, you go next door to Caleb’s room and knock.

“Enter at your own risk!”

Rolling your eyes, you walk in and see Caleb sprawled out on his bed, holding his Switch over his head as he gamed.  “Oh, pipsqueak. It’s you.”

You sit on the edge of his bed, fiddling with the corner of the quilt as he continues to play. As you waited, you looked up at the ceiling, where little airplane models, all built by Caleb’s own hands, had been carefully strung up using fish wire and hooks. Little glow-in-the-dark stars littered the spaces in between. You sigh and draw your knees up to your chest, wondering what would happen to the models if he left for college.

Noticing your morose expression, Caleb exits the game and sits upright. “What’s the matter with you?” 

You shake your head and squeeze the bridge of your nose. “It’s Zayne. Did you know he had already applied to colleges?”

“No.” Caleb leans on his bed assessing you. “But I’m not surprised. And he has a point.”

“Which is?”

“Colleges are really competitive these days. Like even with excellent grades and extracurriculars, some people still have to take a gap year because they didn’t get in or they got put on a waiting list.”

You consider his words. “Do you think we should be applying too?”

“If we were smarter, we’d have already applied.” Caleb runs a hand over his face. “But it’s ok. We have the whole summer to plan. I think applications reopen sometime over winter break. We can apply then. You know, like normal students, and not nerds like Zayne.”

You laugh weakly, giving Caleb a reprimanding look. “That’s not a nice thing to say about our friend.”

“He’s not around is he? Anyway. Don’t fret pipsqueak. You’ll get in somewhere too.”

“You’ll stay close to Linkon right?” You lean closer to Caleb, your eyes boring into his. “We can’t leave grandma by herself.”

“Of course. Don’t worry.” Caleb puts an arm around your shoulders and pulls you towards him. Your head rests on his shoulder as he traces circles into your arm. The action is comforting and familiar, and a sense of calm washes over you. 

“I don’t like it when people leave.” You confess quietly and Caleb sighs.

“I know. You used to cry all the time when you first came here. You cried when grandma left to get groceries. You cried when I left for soccer practice. You cried when it was time for Zayne to go home. Honestly,” he smirks and pinches you, making you yip in surprise. “You’re such a crybaby that I’m surprised you want to attend college at all. You know you’re gonna have to live with strangers in the dorm right? Are you gonna cry into your little bear plushie?”

He grins and dodges a blow from you, a bark of laughter escaping him as you try to roughhouse. He indulges you for two missed attempts then leaps and pins you to the mattress. You squirm and shriek under him, trying to escape as he tickles you relentlessly.

“Caleb! Caleb stop!” There are tears in your eyes from the hilarity of the situation.

“Aw, are you gonna cry when you’re being tickled now too? Crybaby crybaby!” Caleb continues to mock you before you pull a dirty move; you angle your knee against his crotch and grin as you instantly feel him go still.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Caleb’s breathing has stilled, and he’s warily looking down at you as you prepare to play your trump card. 

“I’ve done it before and won’t hesitate to do it again.” Knowing you had him in the palm of your hand, you look him deadpan in the eye.

“Get off.” Caleb complies immediately and you sigh, trying to calm your unsteady heart.

“You’re really heartless sometimes ya know?” Caleb’s voice is heard near your head and you turn to face him.

“I had to learn.”

A moment of peace falls between you both and Caleb softly cups your cheek. “Everything will be ok. I promise. You won’t be left behind. You’ll always have a family. We’ll never be too far away from you.” 

“You’d better not.” You huff and suddenly feel exhausted. “Caleb?”

“You can stay here tonight.”

“I didn’t-”

“I already knew. I knew from the second Zayne said he’s not going to be around this summer.” Caleb shifts and pulls you under his quilt. You bury your nose into his chest and close your eyes.

“This doesn’t mean I’m not independent.” You quip and a rumble emanates from Caleb’s chest.

“Of course not pipsqueak. Miss independent.” He strokes your hair and your eyelids grow heavy. Caleb tucks your head under his chin. “But you can be as dependent on me as you want.” Those are the last words you hear before falling into a deep slumber.

જ⁀➴જ⁀➴જ⁀➴

You barely see Zayne for the next few weeks. His classes kept him busy and he always had homework. Caleb had suddenly become secretive after the night you’d spent in his room though he kept reassuring you that he was fine. You sulk as you watch TV by yourself, Caleb having locked himself in his room again. You wondered what had made him behave so differently. The last few times you’d tried to talk to him, he’d unceremoniously shoved you back out. 

“Boys need their privacy sometimes,” Grandma had reassured you, noticing the way you were glowering at the TV. “Would you like to help me run errands?” 

Josephine's list wasn’t terribly exciting, but you were still bitter from being snubbed by Caleb, so you went anyway. Several hours later, you return feeling accomplished. Just as you’re about to help Josephine put away the groceries, you hear footsteps on the stairs and Caleb finally makes an entrance. 

“Oh look at that! Our groundhog has made a rare appearance!” Josephine teases as Caleb grins sheepishly. 

“Ooh, apples!” He says zealously seeing you unbag the bright red fruits. As he’s about to grab one you smack his hand and he withdraws with a yelp. 

“What was that for?” He rubs his hand looking offended. 

“Only people who helped buy the groceries are entitled to eat them.” You put them away neatly into the fruit basket on the counter, refusing to look at Caleb. With Zayne being awol you had thought Caleb would be a little more sensitive towards you and you were still quite annoyed at his lack of consideration. Caleb huffs, then hoists himself onto the kitchen counter, his long legs dangling off the edge.

“What were you doing all this while anyway?” Josephine asks as she puts away more groceries. “Summer vacation usually means I can’t get a hold of you two even if I needed to. I thought you were planning to go to the beach? Play volleyball with some of your friends?”

“Yeah, and we will. Even if this little gremlin is mad at me.” Caleb hesitantly looks at you, hoping you’d simmered down but you shoot daggers at him and he shakes his head. “I need to talk to you both.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words. You turn to look at him but Caleb’s eyes are fixated on Josephine, who’s looking curious. 

“What is it? Nothing serious I hope?” The old woman sits down at the kitchen table. 

“No, it’s not serious. But. It’s kind of sudden.” Caleb’s refusal to make eye contact with you was now starting to scare you. “Grandma, we told you about Zayne and him already getting ready for college right?”

“You did. I always knew Zayne would excel at whatever he put his mind to. Clever boy that one.”

“Well, his news was sort of a wake-up call for me. What I was doing all these days was looking at colleges, and I think I know what I want to do.”

The evening summer sunlight falls charmingly on Caleb’s face, illuminating his smooth skin, the dark hair falling elegantly into his eyes and for a moment, you feel the same sensation you had felt after Zayne had told you about college. You heart was already twisting into nervous knots, and you waited with bated breath as Caleb continued. 

“I’ve decided I want to be a pilot.” His eyes are lit up with ambition as he says the words. Josephine cups her cheeks with her hands, a smile growing on her wrinkled face.

“That’s wonderful Caleb! I’m very happy for you.”

“Yeah. And. There’s something else I found out while doing my research.” Josephine immediately leans forward attentively. You listen quietly, but you can’t help but feel a slight sense of betrayal. Why would Caleb need to hide this from you? It wasn’t a secret that he wanted to go to college, and he loved talking about planes and jets. You felt like there was a piece he was hiding, saving it for fear of losing their attention. 

“The Deepspace Aviation Administration has an apprenticeship-based degree which guarantees I’d graduate as a pilot. It’s a degree in Aviation Engineering. Grandma.” Caleb’s voice has softened, and he looks at her beseechingly.“They’re offering a month-long crash camp this summer. A lot of the students that go have better chances of making it into the program. There’s one slot left. Can I please go?”

There it was. That’s what he’d been hiding. A month. Without Caleb. Silently, you resume unpacking the groceries, turning your back to Caleb as you do so. Josephine’s face was lined with delight. 

“Oh, Caleb! I’m so happy you’ve figured this out. Of course, you can go!” She rises from her seat and makes her way to Caleb who slips off the counter to hug her. She barely came up to his waist but she’s brimming with pride. 

“Go fill out the application before someone else gets it! Go!” She slapped him on the back and Caleb, looking like he’d just been told he’d won the lottery, sprinted back upstairs. Silence fills the small kitchen. Pretending to act normal, you start gathering ingredients to prepare dinner.

“Annoying loser.” You mutter under your breath. “He hasn’t even offered to help cook dinner the last few days.” You feel a hand on your shoulder and turn to see Josephine standing right behind you. 

“It’s ok to be upset.”

“I’m not upset.” You start washing the potatoes at the sink. Josephine sighs, then wraps her arms around your waist, giving you a gentle hug.

“Take your time. You know where to find me if you want to talk.” The woman hobbles out of the kitchen, and you put the washed potatoes on a cutting board. Your hand trembles as you pick up the knife, and the backs of your eyes feel hot and prickly. You didn’t understand why you felt like this. It was just a month. Caleb hadn’t applied for college yet. And even if he ended up at Deepspace Aviation it wasn’t too far away. But why did you feel like you were being left behind? Like everyone had their future planned but you? And none of their plans seemed to involve you at all?

You angle your knife to slice the potatoes, then let out a frustrated huff; memories of being a little girl, while Caleb held your hand in his as he taught you how to quickly dice your vegetables, patting your head with praise as he did so. You weren’t quite sure why potatoes were making you feel this way. Unbidden, a tear rolls down your cheek and you dash it away with your finger.

“Didn’t even offer to help with dinner.” More tears stream down your face and you let out a quiet sob. 

“There’s no one to help me make dinner.”

જ⁀➴જ⁀➴જ⁀➴

“C’mon pipsqueak, at least say goodbye to me!” 

Caleb was standing at the door, ready to leave for camp. You stood, arms crossed, refusing to speak to him. Josephine softly gives you a push.

“Go on now. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

“No, I won’t. Besides he’ll be back in a month. It’s not like he’s staying there forever. Like they’d let him. They’ll probably call us begging to to take him back within a week.” Your snarky attitude hadn’t improved since he’d announced his acceptance. 

Josephine looks at Caleb and shakes her head helplessly. She’d attempted to ameliorate your temper for the last 2 weeks and had gotten nowhere. You had avoided Caleb altogether, even when he’d come knocking on your door to talk. There was a vindictive satisfaction in knowing that your ignoring him was bothering him. A little taste of his own medicine. Didn’t feel so good to be shut off from your best friend now, did it? The thought made your lip curl even as your stomach churned from the knowledge that you would be by yourself for the next month. 

Caleb checks his watch and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m getting late. Pipsqueak please.” Caleb opens his arms, giving you the most apologetic look he could muster. “Come say goodbye.”

You stood firm, even though every fiber in your being was burning to leap into his arms and hug him tight. 

“The bus won’t wait forever.” Caleb quickly strides towards you and before you can step away he’s wrapped his arms around you, and you’re stuck in his embrace. Tears form in your eyes but you refuse to let them fall. Your arms remain stiff at your sides even as Caleb continues to hunch, silently bidding you farewell. When he finally lets go, he ruffles your hair. “I’ll see you next month. You can always reach me on my phone.” With a final wave, Caleb sprints out the door to board the bus.

You spend the day coming up with various ways to kill the time but nothing works. Video games felt lackluster and your mind refused to engage with the book you tried reading. For dinner, Josephine ordered burgers from your favorite restaurant to try and cheer you up. You sat quietly, unable to savor the food. Finally, before bedtime, you cave. Anything was better than this crushing, empty feeling in your stomach. You walk into Caleb’s room, and curl up under his quilt, inhaling the familiar scent. It was hard to believe he had been there just a few hours earlier, and you hugged his pillow, regretting your earlier actions. You pull out your phone and make a video call.

“Pipsqueak! Miss me already?” Caleb grins widely at you. The background is filled with activity, filled with high school students wandering around and acquainting themselves. 

“Shut up.” You say but your voice quivers. “Caleb I’m sorry.”

Caleb’s eyes soften. “It’s ok. You don’t have to be.”

“But I was so mean to you.”

“Yeah, you were. But what can I say? How can I be mad at my family?” His words break the shield you’d built around yourself and you sniffle, letting the tears fall. 

“Please don’t cry all over my pillow. It’ll get soggy.” Caleb tries to joke but your tears are eating away at him. He knew what this would do to you, which is why he hadn’t told you his plans before they were solid. “I’ll be back before you know it. Be good for grandma ok?”

You nod, a lump forming in your throat. “I miss you, Caleb.”

“I miss you too. Please don’t be miserable the whole time I’m gone. Try to focus on things important to you too. Maybe make your list of colleges.”

“Yeah. I will.” You wipe away your tears. “Will you make dumplings for me when you come back?”

“Is that all I was good for?” Caleb asks in an offended tone but he’s grinning. “Yeah I will. I promise. Now go to sleep.”

He hangs up and you find the knot in your heart has loosened slightly. Caleb was right. You needed to focus on you. You turn over and are about to go to sleep when a text lights up your screen.

“Ice cream tomorrow?”

It was from Zayne. You smile. They’d never really leave you all alone. You text him a yes and fall asleep contentedly.

જ⁀➴જ⁀➴જ⁀➴

“How are you feeling with Caleb gone?”

You’re seated across from Zayne with a huge banana split sitting on the table between you. You twirl the spoon between your fingers, thinking.

“It’s strange. I miss him of course. The house feels empty.” You sample some of the ice cream. “It’s even emptier without you.”

Zayne looks guilty as he also takes a bite of the sundae. “I’m sorry. I know it must seem strange given how much time we all spent together. Believe me, if I had known Caleb wasn’t going to be here I would have put in more effort to check in on you.”

“It’s not your fault.” You lay down your spoon, contemplating. Zayne cocks his head.

“Something on your mind?”

You twitch your mouth to the side and try to explain. “Well, I recently realized I seem to have a problem with being by myself. And I’m trying to change that.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because. It’s illogical for me to think I’ll always have you or Caleb or grandma around. I know a lot of it stems from losing my parents. But I can’t be this way every time I have to be away from you guys.” You stab the spoon into the mound of whipped cream at the top of the ice cream. “We’re all going to college next year, and we might go months without seeing each other. I’m trying to be more independent and in control of my feelings. Otherwise, how am I supposed to survive?”

Zayne nods emphatically as you speak. “That’s a very rational way of thinking. However, I don’t think I can fault you for not wanting any of us to move away.”

“Really?” You carefully fish out a cherry from the top of one of the ice cream scoops. 

“Of course. It’s natural to want to stay close to the people who have been a constant in your life.” Zayne glances away from you before continuing. “My parents are doctors. They’re busy most of the time. I work around their schedule. But I’m always more relaxed when one of them is at home. It’s natural to want to be around one’s family. Your feelings are completely natural.”

You let out a breath and laugh. “Well geez Dr. Zayne,” you tease. “Thank you for the psychological assessment.” 

“Anytime.” He offers you a wry smile. “But I think it’s good you’re taking the initiative to adapt. The most successful people aren’t the smartest, but the most adaptable.”

“Oh? So am I smarter than you?”

“Hardly,” Zayne smirks as you pout, “I happen to be both.”

જ⁀➴જ⁀➴જ⁀➴

Now here you were, senior year finished, the summer that you had hoped would take its time in arriving sitting at your doorstep like a lost puppy begging to be let in. You had opened a window and a cool breeze was blowing past your face. You look out at the neighborhood of Bloomshore, remembering how intimidating it had looked when you first moved here, and now how you could never imagine leaving.

Zayne had returned from his road trip the past summer with a million photos and tales from each city he had visited with his parents. He’d brought back snacks and small trinkets from each place, and every few days, you’d find a postcard from him in the mailbox. You’d saved each one and put them away into a little keepsake box. When he had finally come over after his trip, Josephine had almost giggled herself silly because Zayne had tanned so much during his absence; a lighter ring had formed around his eyes like a raccoon where the sunglasses had perched. You’d laughed when you saw him, and Zayne had merely shook his head in exasperation. 

Caleb had returned from camp with a whole new attitude towards his future. He seemed more confident, and couldn’t stop talking about engines and how being in a cockpit felt.  Being the extrovert he was, he’d also come back with many new friends, some of whom lived just a few blocks from your house. You had initially disliked these new friends because it intensified the feeling that you had been replaced. Until one of them had mentioned that Caleb always looked at your picture before he fell asleep at night. Caleb had acted nonchalant but a dusting of pink had appeared on his face at the remark. 

As you had predicted, Zayne had settled on and formally accepted an offer from one of the colleges. He had decided to attend a prestigious medical university at Snowcrest, a city that you knew was near the Arctic, frigidly cold, with short and mild summers. Although not impossibly far, it was still a long journey to reach Snowcrest, and you had felt some of the hope that was in your chest being crushed. Reminding yourself that you were trying to become a more assertive, independent woman, you had heartily congratulated Zayne while Caleb had teased that it was because Zayne would melt if he continued living in the temperate climate of Linkon City. 

Caleb had immediately applied for the program at Deepspace Aviation Administration after coming back and was accepted into their engineering program, news he had received over winter break. You could still remember him dancing around his pajamas early in the morning after reading the email on his phone. He’d barged into your room, startling you from your deep slumber, and scooped you out of bed, spinning you around in his arms as he exuberantly announced his acceptance. Josephine had woken up from the ruckus, making her way up the stairs to investigate, and when she had reached your room, Caleb had tossed you back on your bed before picking up Josephine too, giving a quick circle that lifted her off her feet before carefully putting her back down. They found him baking shortly after; Caleb baked when he was happy. 

Although you had applied to your fair share of colleges, you didn’t hear back until spring, and you had sighed in relief when you saw the acceptance letter from Linkon University. It was exactly as you’d hoped. Even though Caleb would need to move to Skyhaven, it was still closer than Snowcrest, meaning you could see him every month if you wanted to. 

There was still time before everyone went their separate ways. You knew that yet it felt like time had fallen into a strange vacuum where nothing was happening yet everything was happening all at once. Sometimes your pulse started to skyrocket for no reason at all. Thinking about college made you anxious just as it made you excited. New people, new challenges, the classes, getting lost on campus, all these thoughts swirled in your head like a snow globe being violently shaken. 

You knew you’d make friends but there was a pang at the thought of not seeing your best friends. Suddenly it felt like you had taken all these past years for granted. You found yourself reminiscing over small aspects of your friendships with both boys. Like the time you’d turned down Zayne to go to the movies because it was a documentary, or when Caleb had asked for help to paint a model airplane and you’d refused because it was the third model that week. These minor indiscretions now felt like heavy bags of guilt weighing on your conscious. 

Perhaps this is why you were all being separated now, you think self-deprecatingly. You had always thought you had forever with them and hadn’t spent enough time with them when they’d asked you. Now you didn’t know when you’d see them next. 

A knock on your door disrupts your thoughts and you turn to see Caleb standing there. 

“Ready to go?”

“Where?” you ask blankly.

Caleb gives you a questioning look. “To Zayne’s house. He got that new game and asked us to come over remember?”

It takes you a moment to recall, then you put a hand to your forehead. “Yeah, that’s right. I forgot.” You look down at your clothes and decide it’s not worth changing. It was hot outside, and it was Zayne’s house; he’d seen you in rattier things than the denim shorts and T-shirt you were currently wearing. You follow Caleb out of the house, the summer breeze whipping your faces as you walk. Caleb seemed content to walk in silence and after a few yards, you catch hold of his wrist, slowing down his pace.

“Everything ok?” He peers down at you and you nod yes. 

“Caleb. I’m sorry for all those times I refused to paint model airplanes with you.”

“What?” There’s levity in Caleb’s voice. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about those model airplanes you built. You asked me to paint them with you and I always found excuses to avoid it. And now I don’t know when we’ll do something like that again.”

Understanding fills Caleb’s expression and he frees his wrist so he can drape his arm over your shoulders. “You’re thinking too much again.”

“Am not.”

“Sure you are. We’re officially done with high school. You’ve been tweaking out about this since last year. How many times do I have to tell you, it’s going to be ok. And it’s not like we’re depending on carrier pigeons to communicate. Text me, call me, a million times a day if you want to. I’ll always reply.”

The feeling of his warm arm on the back of your neck makes you want to pull him into a hug right now. Caleb and Zayne were so different than most boys their age. Neither of them made you regret expressing vulnerability in front of them. You wondered if they would meet someone when they went to college. Zayne would probably get swept off his feet by another medical student. And Caleb…Caleb exuded such candid energy that girls were always drawn to him. The thought made you uncomfortable for some reason and you push it out of your head.

“If this apologizing thing is gonna continue, then please don’t apologize to Zayne for that day I used my evol to hurl snowballs at him through his window.” 

You burst out laughing at the memory, Caleb’s gravity control effortlessly pitching snowballs into Zayne’s room while you kept watch for the grown-ups. “We ended up drenching his sheets that day,” you say in a sober voice. “I do feel kind of bad now.”

“What’s a little prank between friends hmm pipsqueak? Like that time Zayne and I let that possum into your room.”

“That was you two?!” You jerk back and Caleb doubles over, cackling. “I screamed so loudly that the poor possum keeled over playing dead! But I thought it had really died and I had killed it! Grandma had to put it outside and then showed me how it got up before I stopped crying!” 

Caleb had tears in his eyes as you indignantly frowned at him. “I hate you,” you muttered and continued down the road towards Zayne’s house. Caleb jogs to catch up with you.

“You don’t hate us pipsqueak. You’re going to remember all of this and be reminded that, despite everything, you had a good childhood.” Caleb puts his hand on your head. “I know I will.”

You roll your eyes and keep quiet but know that he was right. 

જ⁀➴જ⁀➴જ⁀➴

Several rounds of Mario Kart later, the three of you are sprawled out on the floor in Zayne’s room. Both his parents were on-call that night and were working at the hospital. 

“There’s pizza for dinner,” Zayne says lazily as he gazes at the last few rays of the disappearing sun. Although it was well past dinner time, none of you felt hungry. There was something sweet about the calmness of this moment, and no one seemed willing to break it to go down to the kitchen. You’re in between both boys staring at the ceiling fan which was rotating in a hypnotizingly soothing way. The soft whir of the blades was making you drowsy. 

“When I was at camp, there were helicopters with blades like 50 times that size. The military choppers are huge.” Caleb says in a relaxed voice. “Can’t believe I’m going to be piloting those things in my third year.”

“Third year? Not after you graduate?” Zayne asks as the sunlight reflects in his amber-green eyes. 

“Nah. They start showing us flight basics in the third year. That way we can take the exam in the final year and we’re good to fly right after graduation.”

Zayne hums contemplatingly at the explanation.

“I’m guessing you won’t perform your first operation for another 10 years or so right?” you ask, enjoying the camaraderie. 

“They start you off with simple procedures that are low risk. But I want to be a cardiologist. Ten years might not be a bad estimate.” Zayne turns onto his side so that he can look at you. “Do you know what you want to do after graduating college?”

“I just graduated high school. I’ll figure it out along the way. Not everyone has answers about their long-term careers like you guys do.” Zayne gives you a small smile and you chuckle. 

“Do you guys remember the summer right after I first moved in?”

“Yeah. We were 6 years old. Why?” Zayne asks. 

“Remember I wanted it to snow because it was too hot at the time?”

“Oh yeah. Zayne and I came up with a little trick there didn’t we?” Caleb also rolls to his side and props himself on his elbow. Fondness is etched all over his face at the memory.

“I think I’ll tell that story everywhere I go.” You gaze nostalgically at the ceiling. “My two best friends literally made it snow for me.”

“It was the first time we tested our evols together,” Zayne says reminiscingly. He looks over at Caleb. “Want to do it again?”

“What do you think pipsqueak? Will it make you happy?”

You close your eyes. “It would. If you don’t mind snowflakes falling all over your carpet Zayne.”

“The heat should melt them before they touch the floor.”

The two boys look at each other, and then Zayne extends his palms toward the ceiling. Soft flakes of snow start to form on his palms, and then Caleb points a finger toward Zayne. The snowflakes lose their gravity, delicately floating into the air, and dancing near the ceiling. Both of them hold their evol until the air is filled with them.

“Ready?” Caleb asks, and you can feel joy radiating from him. 

“Ready!”

Caleb disengages his evol and the snowflakes make their way back to earth, melting away as they do so. Even at this age, it was still magical, and you feel a sudden constriction in your throat.

“I’ll miss you guys,” you murmur, then hold their hands as the remaining snow starts to fall around the three of you. 

“We’ll do this for you whenever we meet,” Zayne says solemnly, observing your expression. You sniff and smile, your eyes overbright. You turn and find yourself face-to-face with Zayne. You hadn’t realized he was so close, and you can see the surprise in his eyes. The world seems to stop spinning, frozen in the moment. In the blink of an eye, without thinking, you lean forward and clumsily press your lips to Zayne’s. 

You weren’t sure what you were thinking, but all you knew was that words weren’t enough to describe how much you’d miss him. When you lean back, Zayne’s eyes are wide but he doesn’t look displeased. You reach out to pat his cheek.

“I’ll miss you.”

You hear shuffling on the carpet and suddenly feel warmth against your back as Caleb presses his body against yours. This wasn’t an alien reaction to you; You and Caleb cuddled all the time, even slept in the same bed from time to time since you were kids. But somehow, his breath on the back of your neck was telling you this was different. You feel Caleb’s lips press a soft kiss to your nape and you jerk at the sensation, trying to look at him over your shoulder.

“I’ll miss you too my little one,” Caleb whispers, tipping your face to his by your chin. Enamored by the tenderness of his gaze, you allow him to give you a chaste kiss, your eyes fluttering closed at the feeling.

Your heart races as you become aware that you are sandwiched between Caleb and Zayne, and neither one is moving away. Instead, strong arms, one from each of them, come over your waist, effectively holding you into place.

“Are you ok with this?” Zayne murmurs into your ear. “Us showing you that we’ll miss you?” Your eyes squeeze closed as you realize you have just experienced your first kiss. Correction. Kisses. Your face turns red under their watchful gazes but right now, you were consumed with the idea of being in this moment for as long as you could.

“Yes.” You whisper the word out loud. 

Hearing your breathless consent, both of them move impossibly closer, and you gasp as you feel Caleb softly kiss your ear. “Tell us if you want to stop.” His warm breath tickles the sensitive skin and you squirm. 

 Zayne strokes your arm and it sends tingles down your spine. You feel yourself going light-headed at their touch. They feel safe, and your mind enters into a state of connection. You can hear their heartbeats, the low, masculine sighs welling up from their throats as their hands gently explore the contours of your body over your clothes. 

Your legs were the most exposed part of you, the shorts having ridden up from all the movement playing video games, and rolling around on the carpet. It’s Zayne who boldly touches your knee first, sending a jitter of electricity up into your core. The blood rushes to your ears, and you almost jump as Caleb chuckles before sinking his teeth into one of the lobes. The little nip was unfamiliar, but it felt good and your hand grips the front of Zayne’s T-shirt as the minor sting passes.

“Are you feeling hot?” Caleb moves some hair away from your shoulder to kiss and lick the crook of your neck. “Your ears are so red right now.” His words cause you to flush. Your skin felt uncomfortably warm, and your heart was pounding inside your chest as their hands stroked every inch of you. A strange throb was beginning to make itself present between your legs now; it was in time to your heartbeat, as though your sex had developed a rapid pulse of its own. You move to try and get comfortable and your panties chafe against your folds. 

“What is it? Zayne sneaks his hand over your waist and onto your back, his head leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I feel…” your voice trails as you struggle to find words to describe it. “Light. But also…strained? Like I’m hot everywhere. And tingly.” You knew you must have sounded ridiculous but Zayne gives a comforting pat on the small of your back. 

“Arousal,” he murmurs, pushing your hair away from your face. “All the signs point to that. According to my pre-med textbooks anyway.” 

“Oh…” 

Arousal. 

You’d learned that word in biology but you had never thought about what the implications of it would be in the real world. Zayne peppers your face with small kisses and your eyes flutter shut as they reach your cheeks, your chin, the tip of your nose, and then finally your lips. He hovers uncertainly for a second before he does so, and it feels like a little light has been ignited inside of you. His lips were soft, warm, and unparted. Gaining courage, and your curiosity getting the better of you, you open your mouth and hear a groan issue from Zayne. Experimentally you give him your tongue, exploring the crevices of his mouth, and feel a delicious, liquidy pull, in your lower abdomen. Excitement pulses through your body as Zayne’s tongue timidly touches yours, participating in the erotic dance as you kiss. 

Caleb has now left kisses all over your neck and shoulders, and you can feel his hands starting to grow mischievous and he walks them along the front of your collarbone, starting to stroke down on the swells of flesh under your Tshirt but not daring to cup them completely.

You and Zayne part and his eyes are smoldering, green embers growing in the irises. “I don’t want to continue this on the floor.” 

Your brain is in a haze and it takes a second for you to register what he had said, and you hasten to move, but are prevented from doing so as Caleb hooks his arms under your upper body, and Zayne gently cradles your legs from the knees below. They lovingly move you to the bed and resume their positions on either side of you.

The softness of the bed is alluring, and all of you sink into it, you feel their hands flirting with the edge of your T-shirt. Feeling shy, you glance up at them and raise your arms. Taking your cue, Zayne pulls off the garment, then he and Caleb follow suit, discarding their shirts with yours. You drink in the sight of their bare upper bodies. You had seen them half-naked before when you’d gone to the pool and the beach with them, seen their bodies wet with water and sweat. But the longing and hunger in their eyes as they looked at you made it feel like you were seeing them differently; now as men rather than childhood companions. 

Goosebumps form over your skin as your upper half is exposed to them, and you tentatively reach out to put a hand on each of their chests. They tremble at your touch, and the knowledge emboldens you, knowing they were as affected by you as you were by them. The direct skin-on-skin contact was soothing, their warm, firm bodies pressing up against your softness. Caleb traces a finger along the inner crease of your cleavage, then looks at you for permission. You nod, curving towards him so he can unhook your bra. A mixture of nervous excitement fills you as the small piece of fabric slips off your body and you quickly cling to Caleb, hiding your breasts from view. 

He strokes your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’s ok my little one. I’m sure you’re beautiful.” 

You feel a persistent ache in your breasts and press up against Caleb’s hard chest, surprised at how the ache lessens as you do so. Caleb lets out a low, guttural groan, and at the same time, Zayne closes in to kiss down your back, licking random little lines on your skin that have you pressing deeper into Caleb’s body. You gasp and wriggle in surprise as Zayne bites down on the curve of your waist, then soothes the bite with his thumb.

“Won’t you let us see you?” Zayne’s deep voice requests you, and feeling like you’d burst into flames from the embarrassment, you finally let go of Caleb and lie back on the bed, covering your eyes with your hands as you do so. You hear their collective breaths being drawn as they take in the view of your soft breasts, the nipples hard from their affections. 

“How cute,” you hear Caleb growl. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel your breasts being cupped and squeezed, and then suddenly, light floods your vision as Caleb tugs your hand away from your eyes.

“Aw look at you. You’re blushing.” He teases but it’s said with gentleness. Zayne watches your expressions intently, and you let out a moan of pleasure as they continue to play with your breasts. 

“Are you enjoying it?” Zayne’s voice cuts through the buzz in your head and you nod, a heady twirl of sensation shooting up your spine. Your toes curl into the mattress as they mindfully pull your nipples, feeling your arousal grow as they do so. You nod breathlessly at Zayne’s question and feel an urgent pulsing between your legs. You’re desperate to touch and relieve yourself. You were no stranger to pleasuring yourself after all but could you do it with these two watching?

The thought sends an arrow of lust straight into the deepest depths of your core. You’re about to speak up but all that comes out is a noise of desire as Caleb licks your nipple, savoring the taste of your skin before suckling the little bud into his mouth. Zayne repeats the action on the other side and you feel like you can’t catch your breath, each soft suck sending you into a dizzying spiral. You feel like nothing is solid under you like you’re floating on a cloud, where the only thing that existed was the sweet stimulation of their mouths on your body. You try to discreetly rub your aching clit against your panties, the barely there friction making you feel like you might go insane. 

You shiver as Caleb releases your moistened peak, caressing your hair and kissing his way down to your navel. Both their large hands stroke the length of your legs, intensifying the need building inside your core. Your nails sink into the covers as you quiver under their touch. 

“Feeling ok?” Zayne cups your cheek as he notices your tension. You crack your eyes open and nod.

“I feel hot. I need…I need to…” You blush as you try to form the words.

“What?” Caleb prompts you and moves back up to take your hands, stroking your palms. “Tell us.”

I need…more…” you manage to say, then gasp as Zayne ghosts your belly button before his hand dips below the waistband of your shorts. Your breath hitches as he strokes the soaked gusset of your panties, just a few inches shy of your clit.

“Show us.” Caleb catches your lips in an unexpected kiss. 

Zayne’s hand withdraws and he slides down your shorts over your legs, little ripples of electricity running through your body as he does so. 

“You’re so wet.” Caleb’s voice is laced with arousal as he moves toward your feet and sees the patch of moisture on your panties.

“It’s natural,” Zayne reassures you and squeezes your hand and you nod, your embarrassment giving away to your instincts. Your hips raise slightly as Caleb removes your panties, displaying your swollen sex to their eyes. Zayne moves next to Caleb as you part your legs, and take a finger into your leaking core, drawing up the slick towards your clit. Whimpers leave you as you stroke light circles onto the swollen bud. 

“That’s so hot,” Caleb says as he watches the erotic view in front of him. Zayne quietly observes you for a few minutes, then you feel a jolt burst through you as he reaches his fingers into your drenched folds and copies your moves.

“Like this?” 

“Y-Yes…” you whisper breathlessly, your legs parting shamelessly to allow him better access. The pads of his fingertips were gentle, and the sensation of someone else touching you was so starkly different from when you did it. The air becomes balmy, and you writhe passionately under his gentle ministrations.

“Such a good girl for us.” Caleb strokes your thighs and you moan as your hips roll, trying to reap all the pleasure you can get. Your feet plant into the mattress and suddenly, you feel a different set of fingers, a little thicker than Zayne’s, softly probing at the wetness of your core. 

“Breathe for me baby girl.” You hear Caleb’s encouragement and breathe deeply as he inserts his fingers into you. It was done carefully but you were already lucidly wet and his fingers sink in with ease. Your moans start to keen as Caleb slowly strokes your inner walls, his movements uncertain but soft as he watches your face for discomfort. Zayne continues circling your clit and the sensations from both of them were driving you mad.

You feel yourself clench, your body tensing under their tender ministrations, pleasurable mewls filling the air as they work your body to the edge. The separate sensations were unlike anything you could have ever imagined in your wildest fantasies. Even when you’d touched yourself before, you’d imagined a faceless stranger. But now with these two, it was even more heady than you could imagine.

“Don’t stop.” You pant as you feel your body tip into the abyss. They don’t relent and keep up the pace and your eyes squeeze closed in ecstasy as an orgasm builds and explodes inside you. Your body quakes from the pulses of delight flowing through you and your sobs fill the quiet bedroom as you fall apart, a puddle of tangled, sensual desire.

“How was it?” Your chest rises and falls as you try to catch your breath and you see Caleb curiously lick at his fingers, tasting the fluid collected from your body. The sight was so lewd and yet arousing, and you can’t help but stare as he cleans up his digits.

“Good it was…good.” 

Caleb turns away and you see him fiddling with the fabric of his sweats and something clicks in your head. “Are you both…?”

You glance down and Zayne doesn’t try to hide it, but he averts his eyes shyly as you see the hard bulge in his shorts. Slowly, you roll over and crawl over to them. “Can I see?” you ask curiously, and a nervous glance flashes over their faces before they oblige. Your eyes widen as their cocks spring free of their confines, thick, veiny, and pulsing with heat. 

Your hands move automatically, reaching out to stroke them, and both of them hiss at your touch, your small, soft hands already pushing their inexperienced bodies toward the edge of bliss. You’re surprised at the firmness, and the velvety the skin was stretched over their arousals. Growing bold, you give a slight squeeze, and both of them groan, the noises heavy with want.

It emboldens you, hearing the desperation in their voices, seeing the way drops of pearlescent fluid start to form in their slits. Your mind craved to know what they tasted like, how their desire might feel on your tongue. Leaning forward, you cautiously taste Caleb first. His abdomen tightens, a low moan escaping from him and he grips the covers.

“Ca-careful…” he says in a trembling voice. You hear the thin restraint in his words and repeat the action on Zayne, tongue darting out to sample him. Zayne lets out a huff followed by what sounded like a snarl. 

Drunk with the power you held over them, you continued to test their boundaries, sampling, sucking, giving soft kitten licks, never taking more than a few inches of them into your mouth at a time. Their patience was wearing thin and their eyes had a primal haze to them when you dared to look up.

Caleb jerks you away from him, momentarily stunning you before you’re wrapped up in his strong arms, and he pins you underneath him, his erection grazing your thigh as he does so. His body was like a furnace and you nuzzle your face into his chest, his heart beating like a caged bird in his chest. He moans as he pushes his hips against you, trying to soothe the ache in his cock. 

Zayne shifts towards your head, his facade of control slipping as lust pours into his system. You reach out a hand to stroke him again and he bites his lip, eyes fluttering closed. 

“I think…I’m ready,” you say quietly and 2 pairs of eyes fixate on you.

“Are you sure?” Caleb���s tone is ragged as he tries to control himself from being selfish. 

You nod and stroke his hair with your free hand. “I’m positive. With you two…I’m not scared.”

Caleb laughs nervously. “Got us all wired up here baby girl. You think this is something I have practice with?”

You sense his insecurity and murmur, “It doesn’t really matter.” 

Caleb takes a deep breath, then moves, your legs spreading apart as he adjusts, grabbing his cock and probing around near your entrance. You tense slightly and feel Zayne move so that he can put your head on his lap. He strokes your face, then leans down to kiss you, easing your worries, and you feel your core flutter in anticipation.

Caleb finally notches in, and he pushes with care, pausing as he hears a muffled gasp escape from you, spilling into Zayne’s mouth. The sensation was strange, it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as you thought it would, but it wasn’t the most comfortable either. It felt like unused muscles were being stretched inside you, then suddenly…you were split apart and he was there, filling an unfamiliar cavern that had been untouched all these years.

“Fuck…” he hisses as he feels the tightness of your walls, the wet clench of them around his cock. Caleb’s movements are shaky as he soaks in the glorious feeling of your body, not daring to push too far in for fear of losing control. Your eyes are clouding over as you gaze up at Zayne’s face, your body rocking with each of Caleb’s thrusts. You moan loudly as he dares to bottom out once, then he quickly pulls out, his breathing shallow. 

“I can’t…Not in you…” he mumbles, then starts to pump himself in his hand. You cup Zayne’s cheek, and understanding, he moves carefully between your legs. He kisses your pubic bone, and like Caleb, strokes himself before using his hand to guide himself inside you. You were prepared for the sensation this time but marveled at how different Zayne felt inside you compared to Caleb. Your pussy stretches and accommodates him easily, the muscles relaxed and loose as he enters. 

Zayne brushes away hair from your face, his movements tender like Caleb’s and just as inexperienced. To you, however, they felt amazing, and you’re in awe of the human body, the way it could feel and bask in these sweet feelings and touches. Zayne’s breath grows ragged with each passing thrust and all too soon, he’s pulling out as well.

The sight of both them pumping their lengths, of knowing you put them in this frenzied sexual haze, stroked your ego. Caleb lets go first, his nose scrunching up in pleasure as he releases his load, the warm sticky fluid splattering on your belly as it happens. Zayne follows not too long after, jets of seed spilling out of his swollen tip to join Caleb’s.

The rest of the night was a blur. You remember being carried to the shower, by which one, you couldn't remember. They had washed you, murmuring how you’d be their girl forever. After helping you dry off, Zayne had lent you a change of clothes, and you fallen asleep wearing his hoodie and shorts, both of which were baggy and loose. It was past midnight when Caleb had roused you, reminding you that you needed to get back to Grandma’s house. He packed your clothes into a plastic bag, and after you had hugged and kissed Zayne goodnight one more time, he’d held your hand on the way home. Once back at your own home, Caleb had led you to his bed, and held you snugly against him as you fell asleep once more.

It was the perfect ending to the summer. You felt deeply content and sighed against Caleb’s chest. It was rare to find one person that loved you so wholly but two? That was nothing short of a miracle.

જ⁀➴જ⁀➴જ⁀➴

~End Flashback~

The group of women were gazing at you in wonder, their cheeks flushed as the wine they’d been sipping intoxicated their system. Tara’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates. 

“And?” she prompts in an awed hush as you conclude your story.

“And what?”

“Don’t play dumb!” Tara pouts. “Where are they? Are you guys…in a poly situation?” Shr grins slyly.

Her question makes your heart twist painfully. Trying to keep your composure, you finish the rest of your wine. Taking a deep breath, you say the final, painful, part of the story. 

“My grandma’s house was blown up during the attack on Bloomshore district last year.”

Tara’s eyes change from teasing to horrified. “I’m so sorry!” She covers her mouth as the rest of the group becomes somber at your admission. 

“My grandma and Caleb didn’t survive the blast.” Your voice trembles.

“And…Zayne?” Tara’s voice is hushed.

“Zayne and I lost touch. He used to send letters regularly then, his last one to me, stated that he’d been asked to be part of a research program for developing a cure for Protocore Syndrome. It was some sort of high-clearance project, privately funded. He stopped writing after that.”

“No!” Tara looks absolutely beside herself. “So Zayne is alive…but you don’t know where he is?”

You shake your head no and excuse yourself, escaping to the balcony. None of the women follow you and you’re grateful for the moment of privacy. The night wind whips your hair and you breathe it in, the air feeling fortifying despite the chill. 

The seasons might change, but to you, they’re all the same. In your mind, you’re stuck in a perpetual state of summer, the memories of your two lovers echoing through your mind. 

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

@tokyorevengersrin @brekkersgf @ladyparamount @otomegamesforlife @shddyboo @supernaturalbaesduh @sweets-kozume @theimmortalbuns @venussakura @prisjean @laddelulu30 @lethargiccryptid @ravenclaw-jojo @redactedbimbo @crypt-0rchid @fattybattysblog

[littlelamy]

Could you write a Rafe x reader fic where reader says she wants to spend more time with Rafe, but he gets upsets and says something mean in the heat of the moment. Reader is upset and stops "bothering" him and initially Rafe doesn't realise it, but he figures out you're ignoring him

Maybe with a fluffy HEA ending, but if you want to keep it angsty I'm also all for it (:

hope you like it! ⭐️ it was a quiet friday night when you finally found the courage to bring it up. things with rafe hadn’t been the same for a while. he was always out with friends or buried in work, his phone practically glued to his hand. you could see him drifting further and further away, and it left you feeling like an afterthought. you missed him, missed the little moments when he’d look at you like you were the only person in the world.

so, you decided to say something—softly, carefully—as the two of you sat on the couch with takeout boxes scattered around you.

“hey…baby,” you started, keeping your voice light. “i was thinking… it’d be nice if we could spend a little more time together, you know? just us.”

rafe barely looked up, shoveling food into his mouth. “what’re you talking about?” he mumbled through a bite. “we’re together now, aren’t we?”

you forced a smile. “yeah, but… i mean like actually spending time together. like doing something fun. or even just… talking.”

he let out an irritated sigh, setting his food down with a clatter. “are you serious right now? i’ve got so much shit to deal with, and you’re really gonna start whining about ‘spending time together’? Jesus, can you just not be so goddamn needy for once?”

the words hit you like a punch. you froze, staring at him, trying to process the fact that he’d actually said that. rafe’s face was already turned away, clearly oblivious to the way his words had cut through you.

you felt your throat tighten, but you managed to swallow back the hurt, forcing yourself not to react. the last thing you wanted was to give him more reason to see you as a burden. so, you nodded, blinking down at your food, even though you suddenly couldn’t eat a bite.

“sorry,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. but rafe didn’t hear, or maybe he just didn’t care enough to ask you to repeat it. he’d already gone back to his phone, acting like the conversation had never even happened.

that night, you made a decision. if rafe wanted space, you’d give him space. you stopped asking him to go out with you, to spend time together, to do any of the little things you used to enjoy. when he came home late, you didn’t wait up. when he sat down on the couch, you found something else to do. if he wanted room, you’d make sure he had more than enough of it.

at first, rafe didn’t seem to notice the change. he thought you were just busy with work or hanging out with friends, maybe that you’d taken his words to heart. it wasn’t until a few days had passed that he started to feel the shift, the strange, nagging quiet in the air whenever you were around.

you were no longer the warm, lively presence you used to be, filling the silence with laughter, stories, and little gestures of affection. instead, you felt distant, almost guarded, your movements careful, like you were tiptoeing around him. you didn’t smile at him the way you used to; you didn’t light up when he came home. you’d become polite, restrained, keeping just enough distance that he felt it even when he didn’t want to.

one night, rafe came home late, expecting to see you in the living room with a book or a show. but the lights were dim, the place eerily silent, and when he checked the bedroom, you were already asleep. he stood there for a moment, feeling an odd pang of emptiness. he brushed it off, but as the days went by, the feeling gnawed at him more and more, leaving him with an ache he couldn’t ignore.

finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. one night, he found you alone in the kitchen, stirring a cup of tea with your gaze far away. he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched you, his expression unreadable.

“are you avoiding me or something?” he asked, his tone sharper than he’d intended.

you looked up, a flicker of surprise in your eyes before you masked it with a tight smile. “no, i’m not avoiding you, rafe. i just… didn’t want to bother you.”

that word—bother—hit him hard, dredging up the memory of his own callous words. he felt something twist in his chest as he realized what he’d done, how his careless anger had made you feel so small, like you didn’t even deserve to be there.

“fuck,” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “look, i’m sorry, alright? i was a complete asshole, princess. i was stressed, and i took it out on you, and i shouldn’t have done that.”

you shrugged, your face guarded, unreadable. “it’s fine. i get it. you’re busy, and i didn’t want to get in your way.”

“Jesus, stop saying that,” he mumbled, stepping closer, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “you’re not in my way. you’re the only person who… who makes all this shit bearable. i just didn’t see it until you started pulling away.”

for a long moment, you said nothing, just staring at him, weighing his words. finally, he took a tentative step forward, reaching for your hand. when you didn’t pull away, he felt a flicker of hope.

“let me make it up to you,” he whispered, his voice rough. “i’ll cancel my plans this weekend. we’ll do whatever you want, i swear. just… give me another chance.”

your gaze softened, and a small, hesitant smile crept onto your lips. “alright. one chance.”

he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you up in a tight embrace, his relief flooding through him. you relaxed into him, and for the first time in days, you felt the warmth return, that aching void in your chest slowly filling up again.

“i’m sorry, baby,” he murmured, his voice low, genuine. “i swear, i’ll never take you for granted again. you mean too fucking much to me.”

you let your head rest on his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat steady beneath you, his arms strong and comforting. and as he held you there, you felt the hurt start to fade, replaced by a quiet, growing hope that maybe, just maybe, things would be different this time.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole

[chrollohearttags]

love thy neighbor • r. sukuna

(Y/N) moves into an apartment complex on the other side of town and winds up living right next door to one of the most notorious drug dealers in the city nonetheless! But looks can be deceiving…

📝: black!fem plus size reader, plug!sukuna, age gap (6 years or so) mentions of toxic relationship and baby trapping, religious trauma, anxiety, alcohol + drug use, comfort + fluff and angst to smut, missionary, prone bone, oral sex, reader cries during, daddy is used a couple times, size difference, lots of kissing, positive affirmations, creampie

wc: 3.0K

🎙️: I swear imma get back to posting regularly! I’m just being lazy and hating my writing rn (it sucks) 😭 but I hope y’all enjoy

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you didn’t know what to expect when you found yourself residing on the same floor as plug!sukuna..it was your first time living on your own. Fresh out of your parents’ house with minimal belongings and all of the savings you had managed to scrounge over the years. Enough to cover first and last month’s rent with some extra left over..working as a receptionist in a local doctors office by day and offering online tutoring services at night to suffice your income. You'd return home from your shift, ready to relax by at least eight o clock..meanwhile, plug!sukuna was just beginning his night. Heading out into the streets to do God knows what until the early morning hours. But he’d never leave until he’d done two things: said hello and made sure that you were straight. You never really understood the logic behind it..especially considering the fact that you weren’t exactly close friends or even acquaintances beforehand. Hell, he didn’t know you at all and yet, he was just as kind as an old lady bringing you cookies to welcome you to the neighboorhood.

nonetheless, plug!sukuna would always tell you “..keep that door locked, don’t answer that shit for nobody and call me if you need anything, aight?” his deep voice was the last voice you’d heard for the evening and the first when you awoke in the morning. Sometimes, he’d even bring you breakfast per your request and you’d eat together. You’d cut off all ties to your controlling, religious fanatic family and the narcissistic ex who’d all but attempted to stick you with a kid you didn’t want and turn you into his personal doll…trapped inside of the house with no purpose other than to serve him. It was the way all of the men in your former faith operated. But you weren’t interested. Not in the slightest. In fact, you wanted change so drastic, it’d make their goddamn heads spin! Over time, you’d grow closer to plug!sukuna. His second long check ins and warnings became full blown conversations as the two of you congregated downstairs in the pool area or at the mailbox for a cup of coffee. A cigarette dangling from his fingertips to go light once he went outside.

“I know this place seems nice and all from first glance but…imma let you in on a lil’ secret, baby. It’s all types of people who come here..looking for trouble and hell, I’m not gonna lie to you. I’m part of the reason. That’s why I tell you to keep your door locked. Your pretty ass answers for the wrong person and somebody is bound to try and take advantage. ‘Damn shame I’d have to fuck someone up if something were to happen to you..”

plug!sukuna was sweet and endearing in his own right. But that’s what drew you into him..he was the very antithesis to what you knew men to be. Brutally honest yet so empathetic to your feelings. Rough as hell around the edges but a total gentleman. He may have done horrible things but he was a good guy..the best damn one you’d ever met. Unbeknownst to him, you’d watch him from the window leaving out; others surrounding him in the parking lot in similar cars. Blacked out with tinted windows..doing sleight of hand to pass something to other tenants who you’d recognized. Only what you could assume to be drugs. A couple of the guys you’d recognized from church, talking to deacons and pastors..now it’d all made so much more sense. Even so, plug!sukuna kept you out of that part of his life as much as possible. Eventually, some months would pass and it was a secret to no one that you’d grown quite fond of him..damn near smitten even.

however, plug!sukuna was adamant on not taking it there with you! He’d admitted himself that you were beautiful and in another life, any other circumstances..he wouldn’t hesitate to make you his. The problem was, you were still too vulnerable and he was knee deep in a lifestyle he wanted you to steer clear from. You were healing from years of trauma and downright abuse..trying to navigate this world on your own. If he were any other scumbag, he could have easily sucked you into his world and had you out here doing his bidding.

“(Y/N) baby..do you know how many girls just like you..who leave bad situations and end up in worse ones because some nasty motherfucker saw how vulnerable they were and used that to their advantage? How many girls went from being in the church to being on their knees for some pimp? I care too much ‘bout you to let that happen. I’m no good for you, I swear. You’d only end up hurt because I can’t give you all of me. Shit, I can’t even promise I’d make a good boyfriend. I’m selfish as hell, I’m always gone..I’ve slept with more women than I can remember. What could you possibly want with somebody like me, huh? What could I possibly do for you, (y/n)?”

but you saw right through plug!sukuna’s facade. He was gentle at heart..a romantic even. He wanted his person to spoil and adore just as much as you did. The streets were his only love for most of his life. He’d seen many things but nothing quite like you..those round, doe eyes; so innocent and pure. Pouty lips, chubby cheeks and the soft, ringlet curls that surrounded that gorgeous face. That soft, plump body and those thighs that rubbed together when you walked away. He wanted to devour you whole sometimes..many nights had plug!sukuna lied in his bed next door, thinking of you being on top of him. Those perky breasts jiggling as he bounced you up and down on his cock. Those nails clawed at his chest as sweat poured down his skin. But those thoughts were far too lewd and disgusting for someone like you! He was ashamed of even having them. But he couldn’t help himself..especially when that sweet, airy voice all but begged him to take you.

“Because I love you, Ryo..I love everything about you. Even the bad shit. I don’t care what you do because it’s not who you are..you’re the man that brings me food and coffee in the morning so I don’t have to rush before work. You’re the man who kisses my forehead when he leaves because you know, deep down..it could be the last time I see you. You’re the man who calls me every time he hears a gunshot or sirens because he worries himself sick about me when I’m not near him. You carry my laundry baskets and groceries, you clean my apartment while I’m sleeping because I’m too tired. And not once have you ever tried to touch me. You never made me repay you with sex or anything. You could easily hurt me and you can’t even bring yourself to raise your voice, even when I’m dead fucking wrong. No one has ever cared about me that much, boyfriend or otherwise and I don’t give a damn if you sell drugs or blow up buildings. A man who’d do all of that for me and never asks for anything in return is exactly who I want.”

plug!sukuna found himself dumbstruck for the first time in a long time..standing there with your small hand cradling his chiseled jaw, tears streaming down your face, he’d find that his own eyes were welling and burning. He’d never heard anyone speak about him in such a way. “Damn, I guess you can read me like a book.” Hell, he’d never acted that way with anyone else either. Yet here he was, treating you like a princess. He couldn’t pretend anymore..he had to be honest with you..and himself.

“I—I love you too, (y/n). So much..”

“Then make me yours. Right now..right here.”

“you know once we do this, we can’t go back..”

“Please..leaving the past behind is kind of my thing.”

it didn’t take long for your lips to meet in a fiery haze, tongues intertwined in a moment of heated bliss. Your hands roaming one another’s bodies as moans slipped through..your clothes all but becoming discarded heaps on the living room floor like a movie scene cliche. His lips traced from your neck to your collarbone; slightly dredging his teeth along the skin in the process.

“Here, baby..take my hand.” plug!sukuna, in one fell swoop hoisted you into his arms as if you weighed practically next to nothing. Continuing to feed you those slow kisses, he’d carry you to a nearby wall and part your thighs. With your legs resting on his shoulders, he’d mark every inch of you. From your sensitive nipples which he cradled in his mouth to that pudgy tummy he loved so much to that juicy center, which was practically leaking for him.

“This all me? Just from some kissing?..” “This is nothing. I touch myself every night thinking about you..you should see the mess I make then.” plug!sukuna could barely sate his urges now, hearing how nasty this supposedly innocent girl was for him! He wasted no time slithering his tongue into that aching cunt. Swirling it around on that throbbing clit, spitting into those pretty pink folds and those succulent brown lips encasing them. He feasted like a man unhinged; greedy and selfish as fuck, just like he claimed. You’d grasp a hold of those dark reddish and black locks, grinding yourself into his face. Rubbing his nose in between your slit.

“Mmmph! Ryo…” “Yeah, fuck my face. Don’t hold back now. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do this.”

plug!sukuna would eat your pussy until he heard you sobbing and felt that orgasm come barreling out. Your tight hole spasming on air as those juices trickled down his throat, chest and mouth. He couldn’t help but to laugh as he watched you writhe in pleasure. Attempting to push him away as you rode out that orgasm.

“Wha—how did you?—“ “What? I told you..I’ve had a lot of practice.” Choosing to omit the fact that he’d fantasized about you sitting on his face more times than he could count. Tossing you a wink and one final lick before carting you over to the sofa. Where he laid you down gently against the cushions…pinning those legs back whilst hovering over you. The entire time, he couldn’t take his gaze away from those gorgeous eyes..they glimmered so bright. Full of lust, adoration and excitement. No matter how much you smiled, he always sensed a certain emptiness behind them. A light stolen from you and now, he hoped to reignite it.

observing your movements, plug!sukuna began to chuckle when he saw you pawing at his crotch. So eager to unsheathe that hard on from his boxers. He could tell that the shy, bashful demeanor you presented was only a front. If given the opportunity, he could turn you into his personal slut with ease..but for now, he wanted to focus solely on making love to you. Giving you every part of him that he’d long to for months now. You’d examine his chiseled torso, reaching up to caress his abs and trace your fingertips along his various tattoos. But you couldn’t distract yourself from how large that bulge was..protruding and leaking with precum…

“Can I?—“ Go ahead, baby..take it out.” And without hesitation, you’d tug that elastic waistband back and let it spring forth. He was so girthy and long. Clean shaven and although he was erect now, you could tell he was huge even when flaccid. Nonetheless, plug!sukuna grasped those thick thighs of yours and mounted in between them; gliding that aching tip along your folds. ”Now you tell me if it hurts, okay baby? If I see you flinch or look uncomfortable, I’m pulling the fuck out. We clear?” And you knew when he spoke, that was law. Nodding in agreement, you’d consent to his terms as you rubbed your folds, waiting for him.

“Good..and tap my arm if you can’t talk. I’m ‘bout to start moving. You ready?” with your permission, he’d glide in slowly and immediately, he thought he’d seen stars! Plug!sukuna, by his own volition, had been with countless girls. From strippers to models, but never had he felt pussy this tight! The warmth immediately cradling him and not letting go. He’d suck his teeth before muttering a single ‘fuck’ under his breath. You were going to be some pressure, he was certain of it. But he’d continue on, gathering his footing and working that cock into your entrance. A single pop, along with wet, squishing sounds rang out across that living room as you lie underneath him.

“Goddamn…your shit feels incredible, baby. I know you had some good pussy..I can tell just by looking at you.” Forcing a wide, toothy smile on your face. You’d never heard him talk so vulgar but it was the side you’d brought out. He was officially obsessed!

“Yeah? Well I’ve been wanting to give it to for so long..I never thought you’d fuck me..”

“I kept you waiting, huh? I’m sorry..guess it just means we gotta make up for lost time then, huh?”

plug!sukuna was thrilled to know that he’d no longer have to hold back because you were on the same wavelength. You’d have no issues matching his energy..so with that, he’d speed up those thrusts. Pounding you with gentle but well paced strokes. The sound of your thighs and skin slamming together, coupled with the sounds of both your moans, made for a beautiful chorus. Your hands around his neck, scratching at his back; legs around his waist and his muscular arms planted right at your sides. Drilling you just as you’d requested and there was no limits between the two of you.

“Yes! Keep fucking meeee..oh my goodness. I’m gonna come again!”

“You’re so fucking cute..damn..” adoring how you sounded squealing and laughing as you met his thrusts. He couldn’t believe how receptive you were and how it took no time at all for you to open up.

“And you look so pretty taking all this dick for daddy. I can’t stop staring at you.” That deep voice showering you with praise as his thick cock thrashed around your insides. Even though you had always been a bigger girl, he made you feel so dainty and small..like a precious treasure he never wanted to lose. “You deserve this, baby..to get fucked just like this. To be spoiled and get whatever you want. I can put you up..you ain’t ever gotta worry about shit. Not a bill, not rent, your family..I got you, baby. I promise. I love you..” You believed every single word and clung to them with every fiber you had. You’d never had anyone treat you with such grace and care before..and that wasn’t the end. He’d continue doting. Telling you how proud he was of you and how far you'd come. How he admired your strength to get out of your situation…he was in awe. plug!sukuna would continue singing your praises until he looked up and spotted tears coming down your face. He was tempted to stop until you told him that you were just fine. He on the other hand..was struggling to maintain his stamina.

“No no..please don’t stop. You just make me feel so good. No one has ever fucked me like this.”

but that alone seemed to ignite a second wind and in a moment of haste, you’d find yourself flipped over into your stomach with his entire body weight shifted on top of you.

“You mean that, baby?” Those outer fangs of his teeth glistening and mouth slicked with saliva as he began pounding you once more..hands pinned to your back and his frame covering your own. The plumpness of that ass ricocheting off of him as he penetrated those walls. You’d come once again, dripping onto the leather couch and making that aforementioned mess he’d been dying to see. This time, his pace was rougher..less structured and sporadic. He couldn’t help it..he was running on pure fumes, trying to give you the first time experience you deserved. Tugging your head back by those thick curls, plug!sukuna fed you the deeper strokes he could muster until those chocolate eyes rolled back.

“Y-yes! This dick is amazing..”

“Tell me who it belongs to. Who’s this good pussy belong to now?”

“Y-you, daddy. It’s yours! Oh fuck..”

never having uttered such lewd words in your entire life, you reveled in the fact that he had been the one to bring this side out. And now, you were about to bring a side out of him. One far more vulnerable than the public witnessed..one that would beg you to let him come inside of you and cry out your name in sweet ecstasy as he did so. You’d feel those warm seeds pouring into your womb as he came to a halt and you welcomed them. plug!sukuna didn’t hesitate to swaddle you in his arms for kisses and comfort.

“I don’t want this to end..tell me it doesn’t have to, Ryo. Can we be this way forever?”

“We can stay like this for as long as you want, baby. I’m not going anywhere.“

and it was a promise he intended to keep. Not just as your neighbor or the guy next door looking over you. But now, as your lover and the man who’d never leave your side.

[vunblr]

A Heart in Hiding

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Wet Dream, Angst-Hurt/Comfort, Allusions to Hydra's Trash Party, Medical Experimentation, Panic Attack.

Summary: Caught between the shadows of his past and an unexpected connection, Bucky wrestles with his demons and his growing feelings for a new Avenger.

Word Count: About 13.k.

notes: This is a revised version of Unspoken. It's been a while since I wanted to edit this story, and fortunately, I found the time to do it during the holidays. I hope you enjoy it.

The halls of the Avengers Tower felt different lately, with a new energy. Y/n had been living there for a few months now, being the newest addition to the group, providing support both in the field and at the Tower itself. Her mutation was a rare one: healing. It had proven invaluable in SHIELD's eyes long before she joined the Avengers, who welcomed her gladly when Fury introduced her to the team.

Steve, ever the diplomat, had been the first to welcome her, offering his steady support with a warm smile and reassuring words. Natasha followed soon after, sharing subtle smirks and the occasional dry quip that made her feel like she belonged. Even Tony, in his typical way, wove her into his world of banter, bestowing her with nicknames almost the moment she walked through the door. The rest of the team? They warmed up quicker than she’d expected.

Except for Bucky.

It wasn’t that he was unfriendly, just... distant. She hadn’t taken it personally at first; he was Bucky Barnes, after all. The man known for his stoic glares, clipped words, and the heavy shadows of his past. Given everything he’d endured, who could blame him for keeping to himself?

In the beginning, their interactions were minimal, little more than practical exchanges during missions or brief moments in the common areas. A muttered “thanks” when she patched him up: a scrape on his nose here, a swollen cheekbone there. Silence charged with meaning when her hands worked carefully on his shoulder and chest, where the tissue around the metal arm often swelled or became irritated. She could feel his discomfort, both physical and emotional, though he never said a word. A shared half-smile over early morning coffee, when the world was still and sleeplessness bound them both. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it felt like the start of something.

Gradually, those fleeting moments began to take shape. He started lingering in the kitchen when she made tea, his quiet “Need help with that?” or “How was your day?” carried an unexpected softness. They began to talk, really talk. What started as cautious conversations grew into something deeper. Sometimes, he would seek her out, not because he needed anything, but simply to show her something: a stray white cat he’d spotted on a morning run, a book he thought she might like, or a new recipe he’d stumbled upon online.

For a while, they settled into an easy rhythm. It wasn’t loud or obvious, but it felt meaningful, a fragile connection that made her think something real might bloom between them.

But suddenly, everything changed.

At first, it was small: responses shortened to brief nods, his gaze slipping away when she spoke. The conversations dwindled. The moments of shared closeness became few and far between. His presence grew colder, his body language tighter, as though he was retreating behind the walls she’d thought he was beginning to lower.

It bothered her more than she wanted to admit. She wasn’t the type to let things fester, but with Bucky, every instinct she had seemed to falter. How did you confront someone who had mastered the art of retreating? Had she overstepped? Done something wrong? Every time she tried to bring it up -softly, carefully- he deflected with a grunt, a short answer, or a smile that never quite reached his eyes.

And every day, the distance between them widened.

-----

Bucky couldn’t pinpoint when things changed with her. At first, he appreciated how she treated him: no pity, no coddling, just simple, genuine conversations that made him feel, for once like a person, normal. For the first time in years, he found himself wanting to talk to someone besides Steve.

He welcomed it at first, the way her smile lingered a little longer when he mumbled a response, the warmth in her eyes during their shared moments. Their conversations became something he looked forward to, something he craved. But as the weeks passed, something else began to stir inside him. Something terrifying.

It wasn’t just gratitude for their growing friendship. No, this was deeper, more intense. Attraction. Wanting. And the more he felt it, the harder it became to face her.

Because every time he allowed himself to think about her, the guilt crashed over him like a wave he couldn’t outrun. She didn’t deserve the weight of his past or the darkness he carried. He had been the Winter Soldier for too long, a weapon of destruction in Hydra’s hands, leaving behind a long trail of pain and death. The faces of the people he’d hurt, and the trembling voices of those who had begged or screamed haunted him, etched into his mind like scars that would never fade.

And then there was the abuse, the kind he never spoke about. It wasn’t just physical; Hydra had taken everything from him: his freedom, his identity, his will. His body had been theirs to use, to break, to control. Late at night, he could still feel the ghost of their hands, the cold, clinical way they had stripped him of his humanity. The thought of it alone made him sick.

How could he even begin to think about her in that way? She was light and warmth, a reminder of all the good he no longer believed he deserved. And Bucky? He was a mess of scars, guilt, and trauma he hadn’t even begun to unpack.

So, he did what he always did when emotions threatened to overwhelm him: he shut them down. He stopped talking to her, stopped letting her get too close. It was easier to be cold and act indifferent than to deal with the storm of feelings inside him. It was better for her to think he didn’t care than to see how broken he really was.

-----

Things started to grow awkward -tense, even- during their group meetings before the missions. What once had been only indifference from Bucky turned into something sharper. It started with a sarcastic comment here or there, muttered under his breath, but loud enough for her to hear. She tried to brush it off at first, assuming he was just being moody as usual. But when it became a pattern, when his remarks grew more pointed, more dismissive, she couldn’t ignore it anymore.

He had started suggesting in front of everyone, that she didn’t have to participate in certain missions.

"Maybe sit this one out," Bucky had said during the last briefing, his tone flat, eyes avoiding hers as he leaned back in his chair. "We don't need anyone getting in the way."

Her eyes narrowed, the heat of anger rising in her chest. She wasn’t new to dangerous missions and wasn’t some kind of rookie that everyone had to look after. And Bucky knew that. They all did. She had a support role, yes, but she had been in the field countless times before, proving her worth more than once not only to them but also to SHIELD. To have him throw those words at her -especially in front of the team- was humiliating. Infuriating.

"You don’t get to decide that, Barnes," she shot back sharply. "I’ve done just fine without your input."

Bucky’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained cool. "Yeah, because healing a few cuts and bruises is the same as being in the thick of it."

Her fists clenched at her sides. "You think that’s all I do? Patch people up? I’ve been in more firefights than you can count, Barnes, and I’m still standing."

"That’s not the point," he retorted, crossing his arms over his chest as he finally looked at her, with a hard expression. "I’m just saying, you’re better off hanging back. Let the people used to the danger to handle it."

Her eyes flared, fists clenching at her sides as she stepped forward. "Excuse me?! Used to the… I’ll show you danger, you-"

Before she could finish, Steve quickly stepped in, raising a hand to calm the rising tension. “Hey, hey, let’s all take a breath here,” he said firmly, trying to diffuse the situation. “We’ve got bigger things to focus on right now.”

A silent exchange passed between everyone present, but no one intervened. The air crackled with unspoken tension.

And this had become their new normal. Meetings had devolved into subtle jabs and snarky comebacks, with Bucky seemingly intent on pushing her buttons, while she fired back with increasingly sharp remarks. Each time he tried to brush her off or suggest she wasn’t needed, she fiercely stood her ground.

He couldn’t help himself. It wasn’t just about keeping her at arm’s length, it was fear. Fear of her getting hurt in the field, and, more than that, fear of how much he cared about the possibility. Every time she suited up for a mission, a painful knot twisted in his gut, one he couldn’t untangle no matter how hard he tried.

So, as a defense mechanism -more like a stubborn teenager than the grown man he was- he resorted to belittling her, hoping it would be enough to keep her out of harm’s way.

-----

Their sleeping quarters were close. Too close, sometimes.

One night, she was torn from sleep by the sound of muffled screams. Bucky. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard them, but tonight, they were louder, more desperate. She lay in bed for a long moment, listening to his struggle through the not-so-thin walls. She wanted to go back to sleep and tried to convince herself he’d eventually be fine. But the raw sound of his torment lingered in the mind, making it impossible for her to settle.

After an hour or so had passed, and although everything was silent now, she realized the sleep wasn’t going to come back. With a quiet sigh, she got up and padded down the hall to the kitchen. Maybe some tea -and a piece of the achtzig schlag she baked that afternoon, whom was she kidding- would help, as small comfort to chase away the unease from being waked like that.

But when she reached her destiny, she stopped short. Bucky was already there.

He stood by the sink, barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants, his broad back greeting her as she entered. His metal hand gripped the edge of the counter, while the other hung limply at his side with an empty glass loosely grabbed between his fingers. His head was bowed and his shoulders tense, as if the weight of the world rested there. She couldn’t tell if he’d noticed her presence, she could see his face reflected on the glass of the big window, but his gaze was fixed blankly on the sink, lost in whatever hell his nightmares had dragged him through.

For a moment, she hesitated. He barely spoke to her anymore, and when he did, he was a complete ass. But standing there, in the dim light of the kitchen, he didn’t look like his usual self. He looked... more than broken. Vulnerable. The heavy rise and fall of his chest, the slight tremor in his fingers, told her he hadn’t escaped his nightmare, not entirely.

“Bucky,” she called softly, reverting to his nickname, the one she hadn’t used in weeks. He didn’t respond, didn’t even flinch. Just kept staring into the sink as though it might offer some kind of solace he desperately needed.

She stood there, debating if she should leave him alone, letting him find his own way out of whatever haunted him, or stay. Something in the way he stood there, utterly still, as if frozen in time, made her choose the second option. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her comfy cotton nightgown, and she stepped closer.

“Bucky,” she said again, a bit louder.

This time, his shoulders tensed, the only sign he’d heard her. Slowly, he turned his head, just enough to glance at her out of the corner of his eye. His face was a mask of exhaustion, and shadows were carved deep under his eyes. There was a flash of something in his expression, maybe surprise, maybe frustration, but it faded quickly.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Bucky turned back to the sink, exhaling heavily as if it took effort to breathe. "You’re up late," he muttered hoarsely, breaking the silence. He didn’t look at her.

"So are you," she replied, keeping her tone light despite the tension in the air. She wasn’t sure what else to say. She wanted to ask if he was okay, but something told her he wouldn’t answer that. Instead, she moved to the stove, setting a kettle on to boil.

He remained silent, not moving from his spot. The awkwardness lingered between them, but she kept herself busy, preparing tea as if this was an everyday occurrence. Bucky stood there silently, while she pretended not to notice the storm brewing inside him.

She turned back to him as the kettle let out a soft whistle. “Want some?” she asked, holding two cups with a gentle smile. “I picked up a strawberry blend the other day. It’s really good.” The gesture was casual, the same as it had been just a couple of months ago, before everything started to shift.

For a long moment, there was no response. He stood there, staring into the sink as if he hadn’t heard her. Then, to her surprise, he gave a slight nod, the motion so subtle it almost wasn’t there. His eyes, still shadowed by whatever nightmares lingered from his sleep, flicked toward her but didn’t quite meet her gaze.

“Yeah,” he muttered.

She nodded, poured the tea, and placed one mug on the counter in front of him before leaning against it, cupping her own mug in her hands.

“Strawberry’s a weird choice for tea, right?” she asked, trying to keep things light. “I wasn’t sure about it at first, but it kinda grows on you. Tony said it smelled like candy.”

He didn’t answer, his eyes were fixed on the steaming cup in front of him, and his jaw was clenched tight. She smiled softly, hoping to ease the tension. “Steve liked it, too. He said it reminded him of-”

“Shut up.” His voice was low and sharp with frustration. “Just… shut up.” He whispered again.

The words hit her like a slap, and her smile faltered immediately. For a moment, she just stood there, unsure how to respond.

“Right,” she mumbled, dropping her gaze. “I’ll... leave you to it.”

She started to turn, deciding it was better to give him space, but before she could leave the kitchen, his voice stopped her.

“Wait.”

She paused, mid-step, and slowly turned back. Bucky wasn’t looking at her. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the cup of tea, his expression tight, conflicted.

“I... I’m sorry,” he muttered, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck, a familiar gesture of discomfort, that this time it felt heavier. “I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. You don’t deserve-”

He finally looked up, and his blue eyes were clouded with something raw. “I... had a nightmare,” he admitted, the words coming out slowly, as if they were too painful to say aloud. “One of the heavy ones.” His voice cracked on the last part, and for a moment, he seemed smaller, haunted.

She shifted slightly, watching the tension in his posture, on the way his fingers gripped the edge of the counter as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded. She hesitated, but the concern pushed her forward. “Do you... want to talk about it?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched instantly, the muscle twitching as his eyes flicked away from hers, focusing again on the cup of tea. His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, she thought he might snap at her again. But instead, there was only silence. A heavy, suffocating silence that told her everything she needed to know.

The dream still clung to him. It wasn’t just a memory, it was something darker, something visceral. In the back of his mind, the flashback played like a twisted reel. He remembered the cold steel table beneath his back, the harsh, sterile lights overhead. The sensation of the reinforced restraints biting into his skin. Voices around him, detached and clinical, as faceless scientists in white coats discussed the "procedure." A sharp pain had torn through his body, worse than anything he had felt before, as they tested the limits of his tissue regeneration. They cut deeper with each slice, watching his flesh heal itself in real-time, timing the speed of recovery as though he was no more than a lab rat.

He could still hear the sound of the blade cutting through muscle and bone and the smell of the antiseptic mixing with the coppery tang of blood. No anesthesia, it wasn’t needed. Bucky’s grip tightened on the counter and she saw the way his whole body tensed, the flicker of torment in his eyes that he tried to hide behind his blank expression.

She took a small step forward. “It’s ok. You don’t have to talk about it,” she said softly, offering him an out without pushing him further.

She hesitated, lingering on the dark circles under his eyes, and the exhaustion that etched into every line of his face. He looked like a man fighting a battle he couldn’t win, worn down by nights that stretched too long and memories that wouldn’t fade. She bit her lip, debating, before taking another small step forward.

“I could help… if you want. With the nightmares.”

Bucky furrowed his brow, snapping his eyes to hers. He didn’t respond right away, and for a moment, she wondered if she’d pushed too far. The air between them grew heavier, thick with the weight of things left unsaid.

“I mean,” she added quickly, keeping her voice soft, “my powers... they don’t just work on physical injuries. I can soothe the mind too, if the person is willing. I could help you sleep.” Her words trailed off, unsure if this was what he wanted -or needed- to hear. She shifted slightly, glancing down before meeting his gaze again. “You look like you could use a break from it all, even if it’s just for a little while. You don’t have to keep carrying this alone.”

For a long moment, Bucky just stared at her. His posture was still tense, every muscle taut like he was bracing for an attack. She half-expected him to shut her down, to retreat behind that wall of silence and dismiss her with another biting comment. Instead, his expression softened ever so slightly, and the hardness in his eyes dimmed as he weighed her words. She saw the exhaustion behind the mask he always wore, the misery that had become his constant companion.

He swallowed hard, his voice rough and low when he finally spoke. “I don’t know if it’ll work,” he muttered. “Nothing’s worked before.”

Her heart clenched at his words, at the defeat in his tone. "We won’t know unless we try," she said softly, watching his reaction.Bucky’s jaw tensed, and for a moment, she thought he might refuse. But then, with a reluctant sigh, he muttered, “Fine.” The word was gruff, a reluctant concession more than agreement. He glanced at her from under his brow, his lips quirking into the faintest of smirks. "Just... don’t expect too much."

With that, he turned and led her toward his quarters.

Once the door was shut, she sat on the end of his double bed. "Alright. Lay down and rest your head on my thighs."

Bucky eyed her warily, tightening his jaw. He wasn’t used to this kind of vulnerability, this kind of intimacy. After a long moment, though, the exhaustion and lingering unease from the nightmare tugged at him too strongly. With a resigned sigh, he climbed onto the bed and lay on his side, hesitating briefly before resting his head on her thighs.

“There,” he muttered, his voice muffled by the soft fabric of her clothes. “Don’t think this means I’m letting my guard down completely.”

Despite his gruff tone, she could feel the weight of his weariness. His body was tense, but the warmth of her legs seemed to be doing its work already.

She began running her fingers gently through his hair. "That’s exactly what I need you to do," she whispered. "Don’t fight me, Bucky. Relax and let me take care of you."

He inhaled deeply, her scent filling his senses, calming him. The tension in his shoulders began to ebb away, though he stubbornly clung to a sliver of resistance. "I don’t need to be taken care of," he grumbled, even as his eyelids grew heavier.

“Whatever you say, hun,” she teased softly.

Bucky let out a low grunt, his eyes fluttering closed as her fingers traced soothing lines through his hair. The sensation sent calming waves through his body, unraveling his nerves one strand at a time. He didn’t have the energy to resist anymore, he was too drained from the nightmare, too tired of fighting his own mind.

"I’m not your hun..." There was a hint of amusement in his voice, despite himself. He buried his face deeper into her lap, inhaling her scent again. It was soothing, pulling him further from the chaos of his mind.

“Oh, shush,” she said, brushing the protest aside, still moving her fingers through his dark locks.

For once, Bucky complied. He fell silent, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat becoming the only sound in the room. The quiet, steady thump-thump echoed in his ears, an oddly comforting melody amidst the storm of his thoughts.

"Your heartbeat..." he murmured almost sleepy, "It’s kind of nice." The confession slipped out but for once, he didn’t regret it.

Her hand paused for a fraction of a second before resuming its gentle motion. “Oh? I’ve never heard that one before. Maybe because regular people can’t hear it without... closer contact.”

A wry smile tugged at the corner of Bucky’s lips at her remark, but he didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he allowed himself to lean into her touch, the soft strokes through his scalp lulling him into a state of calm he hadn’t felt in a long time. His hand drifted almost unconsciously to her thigh, tracing small circles over her skin.

She continued her gentle ministrations, pouring her power into the touch. Slowly, bit by bit, Bucky’s muscles softened, and the weight of his nightmares slipped away as her presence guided him somewhere safe. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to feel it. The calm. The peace. The quiet.

-----

After a while she sighed, exhausted from using her powers to push against the weight of his severe trauma. Now, she had to figure out how to leave without waking him. He was sleeping deeply, his mind finally at peace after months of restless nights. Yet, despite his slumber, he wasn’t entirely defenseless. His subconscious remained alert, picking up on the slightest changes around him.

As she carefully prepared to slip away, Bucky's eyes flickered open, revealing half-lidded blue irises clouded with drowsiness. Without a word, his hand reached out, as if instinctively sensing her intention to leave. His grip was light but firm, curling his fingers on her thigh with an unconscious possessiveness.

"Shhh," she whispered, wincing internally as she resumed running her fingers through his hair, hoping to soothe him back to sleep. She knew it was a lost battle; any attempt to leave would only rouse him further. Resigned, she reached for some unused pillows and cushions nearby, pulling them close as she reclined, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep while sitting up.

The rhythmic strokes of her fingers seemed to draw him back from the edge of wakefulness. Bucky nuzzled into her touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he settled back into a deep slumber. As she adjusted her position, using the pillows to support her back, he instinctively shifted with her, seeking out the warmth of her body. His arm wrapped loosely around her waist, pulling her closer as he mumbled incoherently in his sleep.

At some point, she fell asleep too, physically drained from using all her energy to ease his haunted mind. The last thing she remembered before succumbing to slumber was the weight of his head still resting on her lap, her hand gently tangled in his soft hair.

-----

Bucky stirred slightly in his sleep, brushing his nose against the soft fabric of her cotton nightie. Her scent filled the air around him, a mix of sweetness and warmth that seeped into his senses, pulling him deeper into the haze of his dreams. A low groan rumbled in his chest, reverberating through her thigh, dangerously close to her mound. His hand clenched reflexively, fingers digging into her leg without conscious thought.

In his dream state, his mind began to wander, unraveling the careful control he kept during his waking hours. Images of her flooded his thoughts, her curves, her laugh, the sense of safety she gave him. But beneath those tender, innocent thoughts stirred something he tried so hard to suppress: raw longing.

His breathing quickened as his subconscious registered the intimate contact, even as he remained lost in the depths of sleep. His hips twitched involuntarily, pressing his growing arousal into the mattress, seeking relief.

In his dream, she was there, waiting for him, glowing and inviting. He felt her softness under his hands, the curve of her waist beneath his fingers, and the way she melted into his touch. His lips brushed against her inner thighs, teasing, tasting, drawing out soft moans of pleasure that only made the fire inside him burn hotter.

In the real world, his hips twitched involuntarily, pressing against the mattress as his body sought relief. His chest heaved, and low, almost inaudible whimpers escaped his parted lips. Lost in the dream, he chased an elusive release, each shift and grind against the sheets a reflection of the ache deep within him.

And then, it all came crashing down.

Bucky’s eyes snapped open, blinking rapidly as his breath caught in his throat. Reality quickly surged forward, sweeping away the fantasy. The warm weight of her hand still rested gently on his head and her fingers tangled in his hair. She was peaceful, her chest rising and falling steadily, blissfully unaware of the storm he had just woken from.

His body went rigid and a flush crept up his neck, as the remnants of his dream lingered in his mind. Worse than that, was the sticky mess staining his underwear.

Fuck.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he extracted himself from her lap, careful not to disturb her. He rolled off the bed and landed heavily on his feet, moving stiffly with mortification. His hand instinctively moved to his groin, tugging his underwear slightly to reveal the copious evidence of his release. A low curse escaped his lips as he took in the sight, and shame heated his face. Without a second glance, he padded to the bathroom, humiliated.

Minutes later she stirred, feeling her legs lighter, trying to make sense of her surroundings. The memories of offering to soothe Bucky’s mind with her powers came back to her, along with the feeling of being trapped, unable to leave without waking him. But now, as she blinked and stretched, she realized he was gone. Her back and neck throbbed from the awkward position she had slept in, so she slowly got up from his bed and took the opportunity to return to her own room, crawling into her bed to continue sleeping, unaware of the events that transpired before she awoke.

Meanwhile, Bucky remained in the bathroom, leaning heavily against the sink. A storm of guilt, shame, and relief swirled inside him. Guilt for what had happened so close to her, shame at the explicit nature of his dream, and relief that he’d managed to sneak away without waking her. He buried his face in his hands, rubbing at his temples, trying to shake off the lingering echoes of the fantasy that had caught him off guard so thoroughly.

------

They didn’t cross paths during the day, except late in the afternoon when Tony handed Natasha some VIP invitations to a charity event for her and Y/n. Bucky was sitting across the room on the couch, but his enhanced hearing made it impossible not to overhear. Natasha has found it amusing to join in a bachelorette’s auction at the event and, naturally, she dragged the healer into it to help raise more funds.

When she entered the room, Bucky couldn’t help but steal glances at her and the vivid memories of his dream came rushing back. The black dress with a low neckline -and were those mesh stockings?- did nothing to dissipate the discomfort.

Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on him, manspreading on the couch looking unsurprisingly grumpy. She walked over and plopped down next to him, leaning in slightly. “Hey,” she greeted chirpily. “I didn’t see you all day. Did you rest after our session? Any nightmares?”

Bucky’s frown deepened as he took in her revealing dress, and his gaze lingered for a second too long before flicking up to meet hers. “Well I actually had a nightmare.” he barked bitterly, narrowing his eyes as he turned away again.

“Oh Bucky, really?” she asked, absentmindedly resting her hand on his arm. “You seemed fine when I fell asleep... I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.”

He let out a harsh, humorless laugh. “Fine? No, I wasn’t fucking fine,” he snapped. His eyes drifted down to the swell of her breasts, barely contained by the thin material of her dress, reigniting the memories of his dream and sending another wave of heat through his body. He scoffed, turning his head to hide the flush creeping up his neck. “Maybe you thought you did something, but you didn't. It was a waste of my time,” he muttered under his breath.

She recoiled, and her heart stung at his words. She’d felt the connection, sensed the calm that had washed over him during their session. She truly believed she’d helped. His harsh tone caught her off guard, and the hurt was unmistakable in her voice as she stood up abruptly.

“Oh, I see. We’re on square one again, where you treat me like shit. You know what Bucky? I’m tired of this. I don't know what your problem is, but I don't care anymore. Go fuck yourself.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and stormed toward the private quarters area, leaving him there, sitting in stunned silence.

------

The time to go to the charity event had arrived, and she and Natasha were all dressed up with the final touches, ready to be auctioned off in the playful bachelor and bachelorette game.

Tony, ever the social butterfly, was already acting as the host, ironing out the final details of the evening’s festivities. Steve, the ever-reliable friend and gentleman, had offered to tag along to ensure everything stayed civil and vanilla. Sam showed up at the last minute, his trademark grin plastered on his face. He winked at her and Natasha, flirting playfully and joking about bidding himself.

She smiled at his lightheartedness, but her attention kept drifting toward the couch across the room where Bucky sat, even if he had started to act like an asshole again. He’d been silent since they exchanged those heated words, barely looking up from his spot. His broad frame seemed more hunched than usual as if the weight of the night ahead was pressing down on him.

Sam, ever the instigator, swaggered over to where Bucky sat, giving him a playful nudge. “What’s up, Tinman? You look like you're about to blow a fuse,” he teased, not missing the tightness in Bucky’s jaw.

He didn’t respond immediately, flicking his eyes briefly toward Sam before dropping back down. He was clearly in no mood for jokes, but Sam wasn’t one to back down that easily.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know about this,” he added, grinning. “I left you, like, four texts reminding you about the event. Figured you might want to leave the grumpy soldier routine behind for one night.”

Bucky’s lips twitched, but it wasn’t a smile. “Yeah, I saw them,” he muttered under his breath. The truth was, the event had been gnawing at him all day. Seeing her walking in earlier, dressed to the nines, had stirred something deep and unsettling in him. Her sleek black dress with that low neckline, and those mesh stockings… he had barely been able to look at her without feeling a hot flush creep up his neck.

But it wasn’t just the sight of her that was bothering him. Something darker was creeping up from the edges of his memory, something happened a long time ago.

The room around him faded as a distant echo of laughter, sharp and malicious, filled his ears. He blinked, trying to shake it off, but the memories flooded back with unwanted details. He saw himself, chained and silent, paraded like an animal in front of an audience of Hydra’s elite. The “auction,” as they had called it, was a twisted form of entertainment where the highest bidder won him for the night. They'd done whatever they wanted to him. Their hands were rough and unforgiving, their words venomous. He’d been stripped of everything, even the ability to fight back. His mind replayed the worst moments, the feeling of hands on him, unwanted touches, and the physical pain when they decided to test his limits. Bucky remembered the smirks on their faces as they violated him in every way they saw fit, knowing he was powerless to retaliate. His body might heal, but his mind was left in tatters every time. He could still hear their voices, cruel and mocking, as they reminded him how easy it was to break him down, to own him.

Suddenly, he was back on the couch, his hands clenched into tight fists as his breathing quickened. His heart pounded in his chest, and he had to swallow down the bile rising in his throat. The memory of his dream from the night before twisted with these recollections, blurring the line between the past and present. Bucky had felt trapped then, just like he felt trapped now. And the thought of her being up there, in front of all those people, being "bought" for the night just for fun triggered him.

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to remain still. It was irrational, he knew that. But the line between the past and the present blurred too easily for him sometimes, and the fear -no, the shame- of what he had endured at Hydra’s hands refused to let him breathe freely.

Sam smirked, unfazed by Bucky’s short response. “Don’t sweat it, man. You can just sit back and watch me win a date with one of these fine ladies tonight. I’m feeling lucky.” He flashed an exaggerated wink at the women, earning a raised eyebrow from Nat in return.

Tony clapped his hands, signaling that it was time to start heading out. As everyone began moving, Bucky remained glued to his spot on the couch.

Completely oblivious to the turmoil inside Bucky’s head, Sam leaned casually against the back of the couch, a teasing grin tugging at his lips as he tried to coax his friend into joining them at the event. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, clearly seeing the tension but refusing to let Bucky sit it out. “What, you’re scared you can’t handle a little charity event?” he taunted, his tone light but with just enough edge to poke at Bucky’s pride. “Steve’s already going, and you know how much he loves playing the perfect gentleman. You really gonna let him be the only one representing the ‘old-timer squad’?” He smirked, knowing this tactic might work. “Thought you were tougher than that.”

Bucky huffed as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had to get over this shit, Sam won’t leave him alone, and… fuck, he had to man up.  “Fine,” he muttered under his breath, his voice was barely audible but enough for Sam to catch the reluctant agreement. “But don’t expect me to enjoy this.”

-----

The limo was packed, the air inside was thick with anticipation and, in Bucky’s case, a simmering sense of discomfort. She was squeezed up against the side of the car, her body brushing against his, while Sam sat across from them, legs casually sprawled out, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Well, look at us,” Sam said, stretching his arms out theatrically. “All dressed up for a fancy night out. Bucky, you clean up pretty well for a guy who spends most of his time brooding in corners.”

Bucky shot him a glare but didn’t bother to respond, focusing on keeping his breathing steady as her leg pressed against his. She had no idea how much that little contact was messing with his already frayed nerves. The warmth of her body beside him felt too familiar after what happened last night. He shifted slightly, trying to create some space, but it was impossible in the cramped space.

“Aw, come on, Buck,” Sam continued, clearly enjoying himself. “Don’t tell me you’re still sulking about coming along. I mean, it’s for charity, man. And if anyone here knows how to be charitable, it’s you.” His grin widened as he leaned forward. “Especially when it comes to these two fine ladies.”

Steve, who sat beside Sam, chuckled, shaking his head as he turned his attention to them. “He’s right, though,” Steve said warmly. “You both are amazing women, but tonight you’re especially lovely.”

She blushed under Steve’s compliment, offering a playful smile in return. “Thanks, Stevie. But really, all credit goes to Nat here for dragging me into this.”

Natasha smirked, lounging next to Bucky in a striking red dress. “You’ll thank me later when we clean house in that bachelorette’s auction.”

Bucky, meanwhile, was doing his best to avoid looking directly at her. The black dress was more than enough to set him on edge, the low neckline and mesh stockings flashing in his peripheral vision like a neon sign, reminding him of the dream that wouldn’t leave him alone. He clenched his jaw and stared out the window, trying to focus on the passing streetlights instead.

“You good back there, man?” Sam teased again, noticing his tense posture. “You look like you’re about to crack a tooth.” he leaned back, crossing his arms with a cocky grin plastered across his face.

Bucky clenched his jaw harder and flexed his metal fingers, the soft whir of gears barely audible over Sam’s incessant teasing. “Keep talking, Sam,” he muttered in warning. See where that gets you.”

Sam wasn’t letting up. “Oh, come on. I’ve seen that look before. That’s the ‘I’ve got feelings but don’t know what to do with them’ look.” His grin widened, clearly enjoying how riled up Bucky was getting. “You worried someone’s gonna outbid you tonight?” he teased, relishing the tension. “Not that you could, you know, since you didn’t even sign up to participate.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed, the muscle in his jaw twitching. He shot Sam a dangerous look but swallowed the sharp retort burning at the back of his throat. Sam had no idea how close to the truth he was coming, and the last thing Bucky wanted was for anyone -especially her- to figure it out.

She caught Sam’s teasing and frowned, flicking her gaze toward Bucky. She couldn’t miss how his whole body had gone rigid like he was just one wrong word away from snapping. Then it hit her. Considering the way he had been treating her -distant and cold like she barely existed- the only plausible explanation for Sam’s comments... Was he into Nat?

The thought dug deeper than she expected, feeling a sharp pang in her chest that she couldn’t ignore. She tried to brush it off, but it nagged her. She hesitated, sinking her teeth into her lower lip before leaning in slightly. Her voice came out edged with reluctant empathy. “Don’t mind him,” she muttered, only for Bucky’s ears. “I’m sure Nat will be fine.”

Bucky’s head snapped to her, surprise flashing in his eyes before quickly turning into something darker, stormier. She had no idea what was going on in his head, and the fact that she thought all this was about Natasha hit him like a sucker punch to the gut.

“That’s not-” He stopped himself. There was no point in trying to explain, not here, not now, and certainly not with Sam hanging on every word. He let out a slow breath “Just drop it, okay?” he answered gruffly.

She blinked, startled by the rawness in his tone. If he wanted to be difficult, she could meet him halfway. “Fine,” she replied coolly. “Not like it’s any of my business anyway.” She leaned back, crossing her arms as if to physically distance herself, her eyes focusing on the passing city through the window.

Sam, sensing the tension in the air, raised his eyebrows but -for once- chose not to stir the pot further. He shot a questioning glance at Steve as if wordlessly asking, What’s going on here?

Steve caught Sam’s look and responded with a subtle shake of his head, his lips pressed into a thin, knowing line. His gaze flicked between Bucky and her, then back to Sam, silently conveying the message: Don’t push it. There was understanding in Steve’s eyes, whatever was going on with Bucky ran deeper than just nerves or irritation. His expression was clear: Give him space.

-----

Finally, the limo of awkwardness reached its destination, pulling up to the entrance of the lavish event. The tension inside was palpable, and everyone seemed eager to escape the cramped space. As soon as the doors opened, there was a collective sigh of relief as they stepped out into the open.

She practically bolted out of the car, and Natasha followed her with a smirk, clearly more amused than bothered by the tense ride. “Bathroom break?” she suggested, raising an eyebrow to her, who nodded gratefully. Together, they made their way toward the entrance, heels clicking softly on the pavement as they prepared to retouch their makeup and shake off the tension.

Meanwhile, the guys lagged, hanging around the entrance for a moment before stepping into the crowd of finely dressed people. The venue was swarming with posh elites, champagne flutes in hand, chatting in clusters that screamed wealth and sophistication. Bucky stuffed his hands into his pockets with stiff shoulders as he surveyed the sea of unfamiliar faces, feeling out of place and more than a little on edge.

Sam, ever the social butterfly, immediately started mingling, flashing his charming smile at a passing couple. "Nice place," he muttered to Steve, grabbing a champagne flute from a passing waiter. "Think Tony outdid himself this time?"

Steve gave a small nod, scanning the room for any sign of trouble, though it was more habit than genuine concern. “Yeah, it’s impressive,” he replied, though his attention drifted toward Bucky, who had slowly gravitated to the crowd's edge, looking like he’d rather be elsewhere.

“Don’t disappear.” Sam called out, clapping him on the shoulder as he joined Steve in surveying the room. His grin was teasing, but light-hearted enough to let the tension from the limo ride dissipate.

Bucky just rolled his eyes, staying quiet but sticking close to the group as they moved into the crowd. He wasn’t in the mood for mingling, but he’d already made it this far.

The event officially kicked off with Tony taking the stage, with his usual confident grin plastered across his face. He grabbed the microphone and began his speech with his typical charm. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to an evening of generosity, glamour, and, let’s be honest, some good old-fashioned fun,” he announced, flashing a playful smirk. “Tonight’s about raising money for a great cause, but it wouldn’t be a true Stark event without a bit of spice, right?” The crowd chuckled, their champagne glasses shimmering under the soft lighting as they eagerly awaited the night’s entertainment.

Meanwhile, Natasha and Y/n emerged from the bathroom, looking radiant and refreshed. As they walked back toward the main hall, Tony’s voice echoed across the room. “And now, for the part you’ve all been waiting for: our very own bachelor auction! The first of the two events we have tonight! Get your wallets out and let’s start bidding, people! Remember, it’s for charity, but hey, you get to take home a prize for the night too,” he said with a wink, his tone playful but persuasive.

Nat looked at them, unimpressed. “I don’t know why the guys didn’t want to join, they would’ve wiped all wallets with only a wink”.

The stage lit up, and the male candidates for the auction stepped forward, each one more enthusiastic than the last. Tony, never one to miss a chance to stir up excitement, started hyping them up. “Look at these guys! We've got muscles, brains, and a whole lot of… charisma.” He pointed to one of the bachelors. “Ladies, I hear this one’s an excellent conversationalist... and check out those thighs! Perfect for sitting on, am I right?” The crowd erupted into laughter, but there was already a buzz as bids began flying.

She had been chuckling softly at Tony’s ridiculous commentary when she caught a glimpse of Bucky out of the corner of her eye. Something was off. He was standing rigidly, his jaw set in a hard line, and his gaze was locked onto the stage but somehow distant, as if he wasn’t there. His seemed pale, drawn tight in a way that made her stomach twist with concern.

As he stood there with his arms crossed, a sudden wave of nausea hit him. It started with the sound of Tony's playful words, the laughter in the crowd, and the sight of the men being paraded in front of eager eyes. All of it melted together into something darker, something far too familiar.

Without warning, his mind transported him again back to the past. The dim, suffocating atmosphere of one of the sickening Hydra parties. He could feel the cold bite of chains against his skin, the way they had displayed him like an object, barely clothed, barely human. He had been the prize, the thing to be won, over and over again, with leering eyes and depraved hands deciding his fate. The room around him started to warp, blurring as his vision tunneled. His heart rate spiked, and his breath quickened, chest tightening painfully.

Bucky’s grip on his own arms grew stronger, his metal fingers pressing into the flesh of his opposite arm so hard that he was bruising the enhanced skin. He tried to remind himself where he was, tried to tell himself that this was different. But the flood of memories was relentless, dragging him down into the depths of his trauma.

He could feel it, the sensation of being used, of having no agency. The faces of those who had taken pleasure in his pain flashed before his eyes. His breath came in short, ragged gasps and his body started trembling. Sweat prickled along his brow as his surroundings closed in on him, the chatter and laughter of the event fading into a distant, haunting echo.

Suddenly, the present broke through just enough for Bucky to realize he couldn’t breathe. Panic was closing in on him like a vice, squeezing tighter and tighter. The telltale signs of an impending panic attack flared: his heart hammered in his chest, and the room seemed to spin out of control.

He pushed himself off the column. His movements were sharp, almost desperate, as he weaved through the crowd like a wounded animal seeking refuge. His breath was shallow as his steps quickened. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he needed to escape the noise, the eyes, the memories. The room was suffocating, and every second spent in it felt like another piece of his soul was being ripped away. He made a break for the exit, his jaw was clenched so tight that his teeth hurt, but his mind focused on one thing: getting the fuck out.

Before she could fully register it, she saw him push off the column. His normally composed demeanor was nowhere to be found. Bucky’s face was contorted, and the shallow, rapid rise and fall of his chest gave him away. He was unraveling, right there in front of everyone.

Her own breath hitched as she watched him cut through the crowd with increasing urgency. His retreat was too quick, too desperate, and she felt a sudden, overwhelming tug of alarm.

Something was wrong, really wrong.

Without thinking, she stepped away from Natasha, focusing on the exit he had disappeared through. Her anger faded into the background, replaced by an unshakable need to make sure he was okay. There was something in the way he had bolted, something haunted. She speeded up, her heels clicking loudly against the floor as she headed toward the doors, scanning the surroundings, hoping she could find him before he disappeared completely. Maybe it was instinct or something else entirely, but she couldn’t let him go through whatever it was alone, not again.

Eventually, she pushed through the heavy ballroom doors, leaving the noise of laughter and clinking glasses behind her as she stepped into the quiet night air. The sudden shift in the atmosphere was jarring, the lively event inside faded into a dull hum, barely audible as she found herself standing in a meticulously manicured topiary garden. Tall, artfully shaped hedges loomed around her, casting long shadows under the moonlight, the only light coming from lanterns lining the stone pathway. She quickened her pace, rounding one hedge and then another, hoping to glimpse him. But the garden stretched on, and after a few minutes of searching, her stomach sank. Was he gone?

She bit her lip, frustrated and worried as she stood still for a moment, closing her eyes to listen, trying to tune in any sound beyond the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant murmur from the party. Nothing. The garden felt too large, too quiet. She sighed and started retreating inside when a movement caught her eye.

Just off to the side, almost hidden beneath the shadow of a thick, overgrown bush, she spotted a dark shape. Her heart stuttered as she stepped closer, the form coming into view. There, huddled in the dirt, with his back pressed against the stone wall, was Bucky. He looked utterly wrecked.

His blue suit was smeared with the mud formed in the recently watered soil, as though he’d been sitting there for a while. His hair, previously pulled back neatly into a bun, was disheveled, with loose strands clinging to his forehead and others tangled and tugged free as if he'd been pulling at it in desperation. His hands were fisted in the damp earth by his sides, and his shoulders were slumped in defeat. He didn’t move as she approached, didn’t even acknowledge her presence. It was as if he had retreated into himself, blending in with the shadows like he wanted to disappear entirely.

Her breath caught. If there were remnants of her initial anger, they melted away entirely now. What was left in its place was pure concern. She had never seen him like this, so broken, so raw.

“Bucky?” she called softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she knelt, hesitating just a foot away. He didn’t respond, his eyes were fixed on the ground, and his breaths kept coming in shallow, uneven bursts. Her heart clenched. He was hiding not just physically, but emotionally too. He retreated into that dark place, one she had seen before, but never like this.

“Hey…” she tried again, with a gentle tone, trying to reach him through the fog of whatever nightmare gripping at him. “Bucky, it’s me.”

For a moment, he did nothing. He remained hunched, with his knuckles white from where his fists were clenched in the mud. But then, slowly, he blinked, and his gaze shifted ever so slightly toward her. The look in his eyes was a mixture of panic and shame, as though he didn’t want her to see him like this.

“It’s… I’m fine,” he croaked, though his voice betrayed the lie. He wasn’t fine. He was far from it.

She inched closer, hovering uncertainly, wanting to reach out but unsure if he’d pull away. “You’re not,” she said softly, locking her eyes on his. “You’re not fine, Bucky.”

He swallowed hard, his throat worked against the emotion he was trying to keep down. “Just… leave me alone, please,” he muttered, his voice thick with strain, like it took all of his strength to form the words. “I don’t… I can’t-” His breath hitched, and he turned his head away, curling inward even more as if trying to shield himself from her gaze.

Her heart ached. She couldn’t leave him here, sitting in the dirt, drowning in whatever demons had resurfaced tonight.

Without thinking, she reached out, her fingers lightly brushing against his hand. He flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away. Encouraged by the slight opening, she gently took his hand in hers, squeezing just enough to ground him.

“I know maybe I’m not the number one person you want to be with right now, but I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered, her voice firm but soft.

Bucky’s breath hitched, and his fingers twitched in her grip. He looked down at their joined hands as if struggling to process the kindness in her touch. He didn’t speak, but the tension in his shoulders slowly began to loosen, the rigid line of his back slightly relaxing.

She stayed quiet, giving him the space to come back from whatever dark place his mind had taken him to. The silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. She could feel the weight of his unspoken turmoil pressing down on them both, but she didn’t let go, even when the minutes dragged on.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Bucky let out a ragged breath. His voice, when it came, was low and hoarse. “You shouldn’t have followed me.”

Her lips pressed together. She could hear the self-loathing in his tone, the way he seemed to think he was a burden, something she shouldn’t have to deal with. “I couldn’t just leave you like that,” she said gently. “Not when I knew you were hurting.”

He winced at the word, like it physically pained him to admit that she was right. “You don’t understand,” he muttered, his eyes darting away, staring blankly at the ground.

“I don’t have to,” she countered, tightening her grip on his hand, as a quiet reassurance. “You don’t need to explain anything. I just…” She hesitated, then sighed softly. “I just don’t want you to feel like you’re alone. Because you’re not.”

Bucky’s throat worked as he swallowed hard, clearly fighting some internal battle. The vulnerability in his eyes was stark, a raw edge she wasn’t used to seeing in him. “I don’t deserve this,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

She frowned. “You don’t get to decide what you deserve, Bucky. Not when you have people who care about you.” Her tone softened as she met his gaze. “And I care about you. So, I’m here. Whether you like it or not.” Without waiting for him to respond, she lowered herself onto the dirt beside him, her dress immediately catching the mud, smearing across the delicate fabric, and her legs. Little branches snagged at her hairdo, but she didn’t care.

Bucky clenched his jaw at her words. After all the terrible things he'd done, he didn’t deserve her -her kindness, her care. How could anyone care for him after what he’d been made to do? But what mortified him more was how he’d been with her recently, pushing her away, when he knew his feelings for her were growing too strong to handle. He had been cold, cruel even, thinking it would be easier to keep his distance.

But here she was, not giving up on him. He felt his chest tighten with a tangle of guilt and longing. He didn’t deserve this.

And yet, he couldn’t deny the comfort her presence brought him. Slowly, he felt his body ease, his rigid frame relaxing slowly as her warmth seeped into him. His shoulder brushed hers, hesitantly at first, then stayed. This time, he didn’t fight it. He didn’t want to.

The warmth of her body and the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, all felt soothing. He let himself be pulled into the comfort she offered, no longer caring if his attraction to her showed. It wasn’t like he could hide it now, or cared, anyway.

His trembling fingers, rough and scarred, brushed against her leg, just a light, accidental touch, but enough to send a shiver up his spine. He wasn’t sure if she noticed, but he did. And this time, he didn’t retreat.

Bucky’s breathing slowed and deepened, and his chest started to rise and fall in sync with hers. His head dipped slightly, not quite resting on her shoulder, but close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her body. His fingers shifted again, this time curling just slightly around her thigh. It was a small, almost imperceptible movement, but it felt monumental to him. For once, he wasn’t recoiling, wasn’t hiding behind walls of shame and guilt. He was just… there, with her, feeling what he felt, even if he couldn’t say it out loud.

He glanced up at her again, and his blue eyes met hers. For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t look away. His gaze lingered, searching for something, understanding, acceptance, maybe even something more. And what he found there, in her eyes, was enough to make the knot in his chest loosen just a little bit more.

She didn’t say anything, didn’t push him. And in that silence, in the simple act of being there for him, Bucky felt something shift inside him. Without thinking, he let out a soft sigh,  as his body shifted again, and he finally dipped his head to rest it lightly on her thighs. The movement was tentative as if he were bracing for her to pull away, to break the fragile moment. But she didn’t flinch. She didn’t move. She stayed right there, solid and steady, grounding him once again.

When he fully rested his head, her fingers found his hair almost instinctively, gently threading through his disheveled locks. The touch was soft, soothing, and familiar, much like the night before when she had used her healing powers to ease his nightmares. But this time, she didn’t channel any of her energy into him, at least, not yet.

For a few minutes, she simply caressed his hair, her fingertips brushing lightly against his scalp, tracing calming patterns. Bucky’s tense muscles began to relax further, and his body sank into the comfort of her touch. It was grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected.

After a while, her fingers paused in his hair. Her voice was soft, hesitant but caring as she asked, “Do you want me to…?” There was no pressure in her words, only a quiet offer, giving him the choice.

Bucky was silent for a long moment, his body still against her, but the tension returned to his shoulders, subtle but unmistakable. He knew what she meant, what she could do for him if he let her. He shook his head once, slowly, almost reluctantly. “No,” he whispered, “I… I need to feel this,” he added, his voice rough but steady. “I can’t run from it every time.” It was difficult to say, but he meant it. Then, she let her hand continue to stroke his hair softly, offering comfort in the simplest way possible. She respected his decision, knowing how much strength it took for him to face these demons on his own terms. “I’m still here,” she whispered, while her touch never faltered. “If you ever need me.”

Bucky didn’t respond with words, but he relaxed against her once again, his body yielding to the quiet, unspoken understanding between them. Even without her powers, the weight of her presence was enough for him to hold on.

-----

Eventually, the quiet that had settled between them started to fade, replaced by the creeping awareness that they couldn’t stay huddled in the garden forever. The world beyond their little bubble -the event, the people, the expectations- slowly edged its way back into their consciousness.

She shifted slightly, pausing her fingers in Bucky’s hair as she glanced around. The faint buzz of the distant crowd could still be heard from the ballroom, and the glow of lights from the building cast long shadows across the topiary.

“We should… probably get out of here,” she whispered reluctantly, breaking the comforting silence.

Bucky didn’t move immediately. His head still rested on her lap, as if he could will the world away for just a little longer. But eventually, with a low sigh, he pushed himself up, raking a hand through his tousled hair. “Yeah. We can’t… be seen like this,” he muttered, gazing at the mud-streaked ruins of his suit.

She glanced down at herself and grimaced. “I look like I’ve been rolling around in the dirt with you,” she teased softly, brushing at her dress, though the stubborn stains refused to budge.

The topiary garden felt worlds away from the glittering ballroom, but their predicament remained clear: how were they going to make it back to the compound without being seen? They exchanged a glance, an unspoken acknowledgment of the absurdity of it all, just as the crunch of footsteps on gravel reached their ears.

They barely had time to react before Sam appeared from behind a meticulously trimmed hedge, coming to an abrupt stop in his tracks when he saw them. His eyes widened, taking in the sight of both of them covered in dirt, hair wild with sticks on it, and rumpled clothes. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, leaning against the nearby wall as his smirk grew wider by the second. “Well, well, well,” he drawled out, clearly enjoying the scene. “Looks like somebody took ‘blending in’ a little too seriously.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Honestly, I don't even wanna know what y’all were up to, but good luck explaining that to the rest of the team.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but Sam held up a hand. “Nope, no explanations needed. You two look guilty enough as it is.” He winked and gestured behind him. “But seriously, you might wanna get out before Steve or Nat see you. Unless you wanna be the talk for the next month in the compound.”

Bucky cursed in frustration, rerunning a hand through his already messed up hair, making it even worse. Beside him, she winced internally, knowing they looked like a pair of absolute messes.

“Sam, got any ideas for getting us out of here discreetly?” she asked with a groan.

Sam didn’t miss a beat, and his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Discretion? Yeah… you two in the bushes covered in dirt totally screams discretion.” His grin widened as he glanced between them. “But sure, I can help. Just let me figure out how to sneak out two people who look like they’ve been rolling around in the mud like… well, you know, two horny teenagers.”

She felt her face heating as she shot a horrified look at Sam. “No, that’s not-” she started, but his laughter cut her off.

“Oh, c’mon, I’m just messing with you,” he said, winking at her. “But seriously, you two need to work on your subtlety if you’re gonna sneak off for some ‘alone time.’”

If looks could kill, Sam would’ve been obliterated on the spot by Bucky’s death glare. His fists clenched at his sides, and his voice was a dangerous growl. “Shut it, Wilson. Unless you wanna be the next thing that ends up in the bushes.”

Sam just raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. “Alright, alright! Chill, Tinman. I’m just saying, you gotta work on your cover story for when you walk back in looking like that.”

She wanted to disappear into the ground, mortified. But Sam, as always, had an answer. “Tell you what,” he said, slapping Bucky on the back. “I’ll create a distraction. You two sneak around the back, and I’ll make sure no one’s looking when you head out.” he shook his head, clearly relishing the moment. "But I gotta say, this is one hell of a way to ditch a party," he quipped, waggling his eyebrows mischievously. "mud wrestling, hm?"

She groaned, burying her face in her hands while Bucky shot him a withering glare, muttering another string of curses under his breath.

“Next time, let’s stick to indoor adventures, shall we? He added, flashing a grin. Before either of them could respond, Sam turned on his heel. "I'll think of something," he called over his shoulder, already planning his grand distraction.

------

The night was still and the distant hum of the city was barely audible as Bucky and her walked along the deserted road. The event had been settled on the outskirts, far enough from the city that they had no choice but to hoof it for a while. Neither of them had spoken since Sam’s grand distraction allowed them to slip out unnoticed, both too absorbed in their own thoughts.

He walked a few steps ahead, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, hunching his shoulders as if trying to make himself smaller.

The silence stretched on, heavy but not uncomfortable. Eventually, she huffed softly, the heels she’d stubbornly kept on finally becoming too much. Without a word, she stopped, bending to slip them off. "God, that’s better," she muttered, dangling the shoes by their straps before picking up the pace again to catch up with Bucky.

His gaze focused on her for a moment -disheveled, dirty, barefooted-. She was a mess, and the tension in his chest twisted painfully, and the guilt crept into his mind again, not only because of how he had treated her but also from what transpired that night.

Without saying a word, he shrugged off his suit jacket and gently placed it around her shoulders. Her skimpy dress had been fine for the party but wasn’t doing much to protect her now.

She looked up at him, with a flicker of surprise in her eyes, but she didn’t protest. Instead, she accepted the jacket, sliding her arms into the oversized sleeves. The fabric was heavy, enveloping her in warmth, the sleeves hung so long that only the tips of her fingers peeked out. As she adjusted the jacket, she took in his scent, subtle notes of cedar and leather. It was distinctly Bucky, and she liked it.

“It’s warm... thanks,” she murmured. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but enjoy the comfort of his presence wrapped around her, even if only through the fabric of his jacket.

He kept his gaze straight ahead. After a beat, finally, he broke the silence. “I’m sorry you missed the event because of me,” he said softly.

Her steps faltered slightly, tightening her fingers around the sleeves. She hesitated before speaking, biting her lip as a bitter truth spilled out. “I’m sorry I’m not Natasha.” Bucky’s head whipped toward her, and for a moment, his guard slipped. She shook her head, exhaling sharply. “I should’ve sent her after you, instead of following you myself.”

Bucky frowned. That was the second time she brought up Nat. “Where did you even get that idea?”

She sighed, as her insecurities pushed her to finally explain. “Well, because of what Sam said on the limo. About you being all grumpy because you couldn’t bid in the auction.” She hesitated, and her voice wavered slightly. “I thought he meant... you wanted to bid on Natasha.”

Bucky cursed under his breath, with barely contained frustration. “Why the hell would you think that?”

She quirked a brow, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “What else was I supposed to think? You’ve been treating me like the plague, Bucky. Like you couldn’t stand to be around me.” She uncrossed her arms and ran a hand up and down through the strap of her dress, exhaling in frustration. “And then, when Sam made that joke, it just… fit, you know? it was obvious he was talking about Nat.” She glanced away, as if admitting it aloud somehow made her feel even smaller.

Bucky’s tensed his jaw, and a storm brewed behind his eyes as he stepped closer to her. “That’s not what’s going on. Not even close.”

“Then what is going on?” Her voice wavered as her hand fell to her side.

His hands clenched and unclenched, wrestling with the words he’d buried for so long. Fuck it. "It’s not Natasha," he said finally. "It’s you. It’s always been you."

She blinked, caught off guard. “Me?” The word came out barely above a whisper, soft and disbelieving. Her heart raced, pounding so loud she was sure he heard it.

Bucky’s gaze held hers, full of rawness as if saying the words had cost him more than he wanted to admit. "Yeah, you," he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair in frustration. "Why do you think I’ve been avoiding you? I… I didn’t know how to deal with it."

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out at first, her heart still pounding hard as she tried to find her voice. “Honestly? From where I’m standing, I kind of thought you couldn’t stand me with the way you’ve been acting.”

Then, deciding she’d had enough of this back-and-forth, she gathered her courage. "Would it help," she began in a softer and more vulnerable tone "if I told you I like you too?"

Bucky froze. For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. His eyes flickered with a mix of emotions; hope, fear, and something close to desperation.

“I...” He dragged a hand over his face. “I don’t know how to answer that.” He paused, dropping his gaze to the ground before slowly lifting back to meet hers. “Part of me wants to tell you that’s what I’ve wanted to hear... for so damn long. But the other part...” His fists clenched at his sides. “I’ve got so much... so much shit I haven’t even begun to unpack. And I don’t wanna drag you into it. I’m damaged goods, and you deserve better than I can give. Shit, probably the only thing I can do right now is only take.

She stayed quiet for a moment, watching him wrestle with his emotions. Then she shook her head.  “I’m a grown woman, Bucky, and I’m very capable of making my own decisions. I’ve decided... I want to give us a try if you are ok with that.”

His expression shifted as he stared at her, “I don’t know how to do this.” he whispered. His heart was pounding, torn between fear and longing. He hesitantly hovered his dirty hand between them, and when she reached out and took it, the tension in his chest eased. “I can’t promise… I’ll be easy to deal with,” he added, so low his voice was barely audible.

“I’m not asking for easy, Buck,” she replied, gently squeezing his hand. “I’m asking for you.”

Something shifted in his chest. He felt the weight of all his fears and doubts, but her touch made it seem lighter somehow, like maybe he wasn’t as broken as he thought. Slowly, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and for the first time in what felt like forever, it reached his eyes, softening the lines of exhaustion and pain that usually darkened his features. “Okay, let’s…” he murmured. He stepped closer, narrowing the gap between them, locking his eyes on hers. Her hand was still in his, warm, grounding and suddenly, without thinking -no more doubts, no more hesitation- he decided to man up.

In one swift, unguarded moment, he leaned in. His vibranium hand cupped the side of her face, brushing her cheek as he tilted her chin up. He paused just a heartbeat, his breath mingling with hers, before closing the distance. His lips found hers, soft but insistent, a kiss that spoke of everything he’d been too afraid to say. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was something deeper, something that tasted of hope, of taking a chance.

When they finally parted, his forehead came to rest gently against hers, their breaths still mingling in the cool night air. Neither of them spoke, the silence was more comforting than any words could be. His thumb absentmindedly brushed her cheek, and she leaned against his caress.

For a while, they just stood there, forehead to forehead, until Bucky felt her body tremble slightly against him. He frowned, realizing that despite his jacket draped over her shoulders, they were still out on a desolate road in the middle of the night, and she was dressed for a gala, not a walk through the cold. “You’re freezing,” he muttered, glancing down at her bare feet and legs showing under the hem of his suit.

“Nah, I’m fine,” she started, but her teeth chattered slightly, betraying her words.

Bucky raised a brow, unconvinced. “Come on, climb on my back,” he said, turning around and squatting slightly as if to make it easier for her.

“What?” she blinked, shaking her head. “No way, I can walk.”

He shot her an exasperated look. “I’m not asking, doll. It’s cold, and you’re barefoot. Besides,” he added with a teasing smirk, “I could probably run five miles with you on my back without breaking a sweat.”

She let out a reluctant laugh, still feeling self-conscious. “I don’t know, Bucky…”

“Seriously? I can bench-press a car, and you’re worried about a piggyback ride?” His grin widened, confidence oozing from his voice. “Come on, let me show off a little, after all the crap I put you through."

She hesitated but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “Okay, fine,” she sighed, giving in. “But if you drop me…”

“I won’t,” he cut in with a grin, glancing back at her over his shoulder. “Scout’s honor.”

With a roll of her eyes, she finally climbed onto his back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as his hands gripped her legs effortlessly. His warmth surrounded her instantly, and as she rested her chin on his shoulder, she felt her tension slowly melting away. Then a thought hit her, and she glanced down at her muddy legs. “Your shirt…” she muttered, a little hesitant. “It’s going to be a mess.”

Bucky didn’t even slow down, letting out a low chuckle, and his voice was a deep rumble she felt against her chest. “You think I care about the shirt?” He glanced over his shoulder, with mischief sparkling in his eyes. “Your thighs are around my waist. Pretty sure I’ve got more important things to think about.” She couldn’t help but blush at his cheeky remark and hid her face on his nape.

As they walked, Bucky’s steps slowed faintly, his gaze was fixed on the path ahead, but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere. “You really sure about this?” he asked softly. “Sitting in the mud with me while I’m falling apart… that’s not the kind of life I want for you.”

She rested her chin on his shoulder again, tightening her arms slightly around him. “I stood with you in the mud because I wanted to. No one forced me. And if that’s part of being with you, then I’ll deal with it. I’m not afraid of your mess.”

Bucky stayed silent momentarily, letting her words sink into his mind. His heart clenched, torn between the comfort of her closeness and the nagging doubt that never fully left him. “You say that now,” he muttered, “But it’s not always gonna be just mud. There’s… stuff I don’t even know how to talk about.”

She tightened her arms around him, brushing her lips against his ear. “Then don’t talk about it yet,” she replied softly. “Just... let me be here. Let me decide what I can handle.”

His throat tightened. The weight of her words felt both heavy and freeing, a strange contradiction he wasn’t sure how to process. “I’ve spent so long trying to push people away,” he admitted, “I don’t even know how to let someone in anymore.”

Her lips curved into a small, soft smile against his neck. “Good thing you’ve got time to figure it out, Buck. I’m not in a hurry.”

The path ahead was uncertain, messy, and strewn with shadows, but for the first time in a long time, Bucky felt that maybe he didn’t have to walk it alone.

Dividers by: @/strangergraphics

[mochiwonz]

─── INTO YOU ୨୧

PAIRING. fem!reader x jake sim﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ FEATURING. heeseung as your older brother CONTENT. brother's bestfriend to ?? , smut , p in v , unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it !!) , kitchen sex , breast & nipple play , grinding , cursing , dirty talk , petnames , cumming inside , jake likes to tease ;3 , mention of pillow humping NOTE. not proofread & lowercase is intended !! enjoy this yummy smut fic ≧ᗜ≦

the one and only, jake sim— heeseung's closest friend since the eighth grade. him and heeseung were both older than you, jake being born in 2002 and heeseung being born in 2001. not that age really mattered, though. ever since heeseung had first introduced jake to you, you'd always felt like he was a bit immature. too loud, too mischevious, just not your cup of tea. even at the ripe age of 21, you still saw him as a boy.

it wasn't until he turned 22 that you'd realized something changed.

it seemed as though jake had finally grown into a man— and a very good-looking one at that.

he changed the way he dressed, swapping out his skinny jeans for baggy cargo pants and sweatpants and plain hoodies for leather jackets and much more. he'd also gotten a haircut and learned how to style it.

quite the opposite of what'd you expect from him.

he also started wearing cologne— a clean but musky scent that you really liked.

you never expected yourself to ever be attracted to jake, but it happened. you were actually starting to find the one and only, jake sim, attractive.

at first, you were definitely in denial, comprehending the whole situation. you'd practically despised him since you'd first laid your eyes on him, god you couldn't believe it.

"hey y/n" jake waved at you from across the living room as you made your way downstairs to grab a cup of water.

"hey" you simply replied, not wanting to give him too much attention. you didn't even spare him a glance. you couldn't, or else you'd probably turn red.

even though you didn't look at him, directly— you could see him from your peripheral vision. he was wearing a pair of baggy grey sweatpants, a fitted black tank top, and a hat that he was wearing backwards. you could also tell that he was very obviously manspreading.

he looked hot as fuck.

of course, jake had noticed how you avoided him these days. he noticed how you would never make eye-contact, never glance at him, and never even really speak to him. he usually brushed it off as something to due with tiredness or stress, but today it felt different— like you were avoiding him for a very different reason.

you'd just gotten a glass from the cupboard and walked over to the fridge to fill it up when you heard him get up from the couch.

' oh, he's probably just going to the bathroom ' you thought.

you'd convinced yourself of that until you felt jake's presence right behind you.

"y/n" he said while clearing his throat, trying to grab your attention.

no, you had to make a run for it. you couldn't embarrass yourself infront of jake, especially right now— you weren't even wearing any makeup.

you quickly put down the glass of water on the nearest counter top and started to speed-walk away from him when you felt a grip on your wrist.

"jake, i need to go—" you were about to make a stupid excuse, until he cut you off.

"no y/n, you don't need to go anywhere right now." he says in an almost stern tone of voice, pulling you towards him by your wrist. "you know, i can tell that you're avoiding me... right?

you nervously laugh in response. were you that obvious or was he just really good at reading people?

"wasn't avoiding you..." you say under your breath. anyone could tell that you were lying, it was blatantly obvious— how you stared at the grown and wouldn't dare to get any closer to him.

"you sure, pretty?" he swiftly moves his hand from your wrist to your waist and pulls you even closer to him.

he was so close to you, you could even feel his breath on your face. you swore you could hear his heartbeat, too.

you froze, voice caught in your throat. everything was happening way too quick, you weren't even processing anything right now.

"cat got your tongue?" he chuckles, bringing his hand to your chin— indicating for you to look at him.

you reluctantly look up at him and wow. he was just gorgeous. seeing him this up-close gave you the craziest butterflies you'd ever felt. his tall nose, plump lips, pretty puppy eyes, and honey-tanned skin really did it for you.

jake felt the same way about you. he hadn't seen you this close since... forever. you'd always been pretty, but you were absolutely beautiful, now. the way your eyes were shining, the natural shade of your lips, your bare skin— you looked like an angel.

"you're so handsome" you say as if in a daze, your lips betraying you.

it's not until he plants a peck on your lips that you realize what you'd just said.

"mm, see? i knew it" jake says as he wraps both arms around your waist and turns you around— so that your back is against his chest.

all you could do was let out a weak whimper in response.

"it's okay pretty, i think you're so so gorgeous" he tells you in a low, raspy voice— his hot breath lingering on your skin.

before you can process what just happened in the last 10 seconds, he's quick to turn you around. only now, you're facing him.

jake is quick to pull you into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. you wrap your arms around his neck as his large hands find your ass, groping it.

"shit baby, you taste so good" jake manages to groan out in-between kisses.

you'd been daydreaming about jake lately. especially about how he'd kiss you. however, nothing could compare to how he actually kissed you. the way his plump lips felt as though they were molded for yours. the way he was basically attacking the insides of your mouth with his tongue. god, he was such a good kisser.

you tangle your hands in his pretty black hair as you deepen the kiss. in one swift motion, jake picks you up and gently places you on the cold, granite countertop.

growing needier and needier by the second, you start to rut your clothed cunt against his erect cock.

you both pull away from the kiss, breathless and in a daze. jake is quick to grind his hips up into yours.

"fuuckkk" he moans as he throws his head back, "feels s' good, pretty— fuckk"

your lips form an "O" shape as you squeeze your eyes shut, the pleasure almost unbearable.

sure, you'd humped your pillow thinking of jake, but this was definitely more than a thousand times better.

"jae— ngh!" you lay back onto the countertop as jake pulls your hips closer to his, increasing the friction.

"call me that again" he grunts in a deep yet breathless tone of voice, pretty black hair sticking to his already sweaty forehead.

"faster jae! faster!" you moan out in almost a shriek. you're not sure how much of a mess you are right now, you just know that you feel so fucking good.

before you can even catch on, you feel that familiar feeling in your stomach— you were so close, so close to cumming. and right before you reached your climax, jake pulled his hips away from yours.

jake catches how you frown at the loss of friction and laughs.

"not funny..." you say, staring at his veiny hands and forearms.

"never thought it was funny, princess. just want you to cum on my cock"

you feel your pussy get even more soppy at his dirty words. you knew that your panties were most definitely soaked, at this point.

"that's what you want, right pretty girl?" he asks, already knowing what you're going to answer. he just wanted to tease you a little.

pretty, pretty girl, baby, princess— all the petnames were killing you. not only that but his thick accent, too.

"yes" you mumble.

"hm?" he teases, slowly removing your pajama top— loving how your ears go completely red.

"yes please jae— " you're caught off guard by a warm, wet feeling around your nipple, jake's mouth. he's flicking your hardened nub with his tongue while groping your other breast with his hand.

"oh fuckk jaee" you whine, the feeling unfamiliar but so good.

the pleasure he's giving you right now is quite literally insane. you didn't know what to do with yourself, you were a moaning mess. your hair was sticking to you forehead, your skin was glistening with sweat, and your eyes were rolled all the way to the back of your head.

you weren't the only one that was a moaning mess, jake was too. he was lost in the pleasure, desperately grinding his hardened cock against your thigh toying your erect nipple with his tongue, your little moans and whimpers making him even harder— if that was even humanly possible.

"want you now, shit— please" you say, squirming around. jake finally removes his plump lips from your breast and looks at you, his gaze filled with both adoration and lust.

without saying a word, jake swiftly removes your pajama shorts and his black tank top and grey sweatpants.

now you're completely bare, and so is jake.

he was shamelessly eyeing every inch of your body, his eyes moving from your collarbones, to your perky breasts, to your puffy, neglected cunt. you were so beautiful, so so beautiful.

becoming impatient, you sit up and tug on the band of his boxers, indicating that you really needed him, inside of you— now.

"want me so bad, huh y/nnie?" he teases, once again. you squeeze your thighs together at his statement, feeling your wetness dripping out of your pussy onto your inner thighs.

you eagerly nod in response, not being able to form an actual response. he pulls down his boxers to reveal his cock, on display just for you.

he had such a pretty dick, i mean— what did you expect? he was jake sim, after all. the tip of his cock was a pretty pink, the same shade of pink as his lips. it had 3 prominent veins wrapping around it. the way it was proudly standing against his abs was causing you to drool.

jake guides your hand to his dick, wrapping your hand around it and guiding your hand up and down. you both moan at the feeling, you couldn't believe this was happening. neither could he.

"feel how hard i am? see it? just f' you, pretty" he tells you as you smear his precum all over the tip of his cock. he squeezes his eyes shut at how your soft hand feels against him, so fucking good.

you remove your hand and lay back on your forearms, bringing your hips closer, causing your wet pussy to rub against his tip. he opens his eyes at the sudden loss of movement. he looks down at you, only to quickly gasp at the feeling of his tip rubbing against your sticky folds.

"shittt" he moans in an almost whiney tone. the feeling of your bare, wet cunt against his cock was making him lose his sanity. he swears he could cum just from this.

you're both grinding against eachother, until you feel his hips pull away from yours.

"jake wha—" you're immediately cut off by jake. not with words, though.

it's the feeling of his large, erect cock inside your gummy walls. you didn't even notice him sliding his dick into your pussy because of how absolutely wet you were.

"felt like i was about to cum, had to be inside you incase i did" he grunts, once again bringing his hand to cup your breast.

neither one of you moves. you were still adjusting and jake was just holding back, he was so close to just letting loose and fucking your brains out.

however, it was now your turn to catch him off guard. you started moving your hips at a quick pace while rubbing your clit with your thumb.

"oh fuck baby, just like that, keep fucking yourself on my dick like that, shitt"

you clench around his cock at his words, causing him to let out a whiney moan. he quickly leans down and leaves wet kisses along your neck.

jake notices how you've seemed to slow down and decides that he's really going to fuck you now— like how he has wanted to for so, so long.

he begins thrusting into you as you lazily grind your cunt against his dick. he's slamming his cock so deep inside of you at such an animalistic pace, it's almost unbearable. but in a good way, of course.

"shit, shit, shit" he grunts out every time he thrusts his dick into you, his balls slamming against your plump ass.

all you can do is moan and whimper. your hands are grabbing onto his hair so hard you'd think he'd be in pain, but he actually finds it so pleasurable.

"pussy so wet f' me, love this pussy" he slows down just a little, thrusting deeper instead of faster. with the way he's fucking you right now, you can hear how your pussy squelches every time he thrusts into you.

"hngh! jae, 'm gonna cum, gonna cum—" you moan loudly as you pull him into a sloppy kiss, cutting yourself off.

jake wastes absolutely no time and starts fucking you at an unreal pace, much quicker than before. within no time, he finds your g-spot and places his hand on your clit, rubbing circles on it. your hands are still tangled in his hair, still pulling on it.

"yeah? gonna cum for me? cum on this dick, princess— shitt, holy fuck" he rambles dirty words on and on, bringing you closer to your climax.

before you know it— you're creaming his cock with your cum. you black out for a few seconds from your intense orgasm, as jake continues to slam into you. he's so close, so fucking close.

"gonna cum inside you, fuck, fuck, fuck— squeezing me so tight baby, shittt"

jake lets out a loud grunt as he spills his load into your warm cunt, holding your body close to his.

yeah, this was the first time you two had fucked, but it definitely wasn't the last.

please like, reblog, and comment if u enjoyed :3 u can find my other works here !

© mochiwonz ― all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, or translate my work.