#and everyone else just seemed so unfazed

[bifangirl]

no one:

sabine:

[babeforjjmaybanks]

orange soda crush ༊*·˚

pairing: popular!rafe x shy!femreader ౨ৎ

summary: rafe's grades were slipping, to say the least. your school assigns you as his tutor, hoping maybe you could save him. one afternoon, rafe shows up to your house with in need of some help.

warning(s): dry humping, fingering, finger licking, mentions of biting (hickeys), thigh riding, marijuana use, swearing, size kink if you squint, mentions of scratching, slight overstim, rafe becomes whipped so possessiveness, innocence corruption(?), praise, slight perv!rafe, titobsessed!rafe, dni if you don't like!!!

mentions of: rafey, rafe is called a "sex symbol", y/n, sweetheart, good girl, baby, sweet girl, dumbass, needy girl, slut, doll, cute, pretty ౨ৎ

a/n: if not known already, this is basically a obx highschool au, pogues and looks still exist but it's more like jocks and nerds. both reader and rafe are seniors, not minors! I don't have much experience with writing fics but here's my current fixation, enjoy & leave notes! <3

word count: 4168

divider by: @issysh3ll

y/n had been sitting quietly in her history class, the bell signaling the end of the period ringing in the distance. she was gathering her books when the overhead speaker crackled to life, interrupting the usual noise of students packing up.

"pardon this interruption, y/n l/n, please report to principal phelp’s office immediately."

the announcement hung in the air, drawing the attention of a few nearby students. she froze, a slight chill running through her. she wasn’t the type to get into trouble—her grades were impeccable, she kept to herself, and she was always on time. so why was she being called to the principal’s office? her mind raced through all the possible reasons, none of which seemed likely. had she missed an assignment? was there a mistake with her records? or was it the skirt she decided to wear today that definitely didn’t meet the dress code?

her heart pounded as she made her way down the hall, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the quiet corridor. as she approached the principal’s office, she noticed the usual hustle and bustle of students outside. some of them exchanged glances, their curious eyes following her every step, looking her up and down with whispers and sly looks. when she reached the door, she hesitated for a moment before knocking lightly.

"come in," came the deep voice of principal phelps.

she opened the door to find him sitting behind his desk, a manila folder in front of him. the room was neat, almost too perfect, the smell of old books and polished wood filling the air. but what really caught her off guard was the figure sitting across from him.

rafe cameron, the school's golden boy.

her stomach dropped. rafe was sitting with his arms crossed, his signature smirk plastered across his face as he looked over at her. His messy curtain and athletic jacket seemed almost out of place in the sterile office, like he didn’t belong in this space. she had always known of him, of course. he was the star quarterback, the guy everyone knew by name, the one who seemed to glide effortlessly through life. and now, here he was, looking at her as if he had all the time in the world, while she, on the other hand, was caught off guard and confused.

"there she is, come on in we were just talking about you." principal phelps said with a warm smile, though she could detect a hint of urgency in his tone. "take a seat."

she sat down hesitantly, trying to avoid looking directly at rafe. the tension in the air was palpable, and she was acutely aware of how out of place she felt in this situation.

"y/n," principal phelps began, folding his hands in front of him, his expression turning serious, "I’ve called you here because I need a favor. you know rafe, right?"

you glanced at rafe again, his eyes diverted to something else in the room as if he wasn’t staring at you. he seemed unfazed by the situation, though there was a subtle flicker of something in his eyes. "um, yeah," you said quietly, not sure where this conversation was going.

principal phelps nodded. "well, rafe here has been struggling in a few subjects. he’s having difficulty with math, english, and history.” principal phelps cleared his throat trying to ignore the fact that he named almost every class. “and unfortunately, his grades are slipping dangerously low. If he doesn’t get his grades up, he could lose his eligibility to play on the football team, which would jeopardize his scholarship opportunities." he paused, giving her a moment to process the gravity of the situation.

she blinked, her mind racing. rafe? struggling? the same rafe who could probably get away with doing the bare minimum and still pass every class? the same rafe with the fancy sport cars and the fancy mansion he threw ragers in? (allegedly, she’s never been to one.) the same rafe who had never so much as acknowledged her existence in all the years they’d been in school?

"I’m asking you," principal phelps continued, leaning forward slightly, "to tutor rafe for the next few weeks. he needs to pass these subjects to stay on track. and I know you’re one of our top students, y/n. you’re smart, diligent, and patient—exactly what rafe needs right now."

rafe shifted in his chair, his smirk faltering for just a moment. "yeah, sweetheart," he added with a lazy grin, "I could use your help. think you can handle it?" he glanced down at her thighs, and then back up at her. she felt her face flush at the sudden name.

her mind was spinning. she had never thought of rafe as anything more than the popular guy—someone she’d seen in the hallways but never really interacted with. actually, that was a lie, the thinking part. she actually would think about rafe alot when she was bored, specifically his toned body and the way he bit his lip when he was thinking. she had no idea how to deal with someone like him.

"I—I don’t know," she stammered, feeling her face flush. "I’m not sure I’m the right person for this."

principal phelps’s voice softened, but there was still a sense of urgency in his words. "I’m sure you are. rafe, here, is a good kid at heart, but he’s under a lot of pressure. If you help him out, it could mean a lot to him—and to his future."

rafe’s eyes met hers again, and for a split second, she thought she saw something other than cockiness—a hint of desperation, maybe even embarrassment. but it was gone before she could fully understand it.

she took a deep breath. she had never been one to shy away from responsibility, even if the situation seemed overwhelming. she didn’t want to be the one to deny him help, especially when it could affect his future.

"okay," she finally said, her voice steady but unsure. "I’ll help."

principal phelps smiled, relief flooding his face. "thank you, y/n. I know this is a lot to ask, but I think you’re exactly what rafe needs."

as she stood up to leave, she felt the weight of the task ahead of her settle in. she glanced one more time at rafe, who was still sitting there, his posture slightly more relaxed now. He didn’t say anything, but she could feel the tension between them already starting to form, a mix of uncertainty and something unspoken.

"see you tomorrow, then," she said, her words more for herself than for him, before leaving the office to prepare for what was about to be an unexpected and challenging journey.

over the past two weeks, y/n and rafe had settled into a rhythm, though it was far from smooth at first. their tutoring sessions started awkwardly—rafe's usual cocky demeanor clashed with y/n’s quiet, no-nonsense attitude. he would slouch in his chair, often cracking jokes or making sarcastic comments, testing her patience. but y/n, determined to get him through the material, refused to let him off the hook. slowly, she found ways to get through to him, breaking down complicated equations and historical events into relatable, bite-sized pieces. rafe, surprisingly, started to respond. he still struggled, but he began showing up earlier for their sessions, staying later, and even asking questions without the usual bravado.

as the days passed, the tutoring sessions shifted from strictly academic to more personal. one evening, as they were going over a particularly difficult history assignment, rafe let slip that his father had been pushing him to be the perfect athlete, to always be "the best." "It’s not just about football," rafe admitted, his tone more vulnerable than she had ever heard. "I just don’t want to disappoint him, you know?" y/n was taken aback. she had always seen rafe as the confident jock, but here was a side of him she hadn’t expected—a young man weighed down by more than just his grades. she listened quietly, offering a rare, understanding smile that made rafe pause for a moment. after that, their sessions felt different. the walls that had once separated them began to crumble.

In the weeks that followed, their conversations drifted beyond just homework. rafe started sharing bits of his life with you—how he used to love painting when he was younger, how he struggled with anxiety before big games, and how he was terrified of failing his senior year. you, in turn, opened up as well, telling rafe about your dream of becoming a lawyer and how you often felt like an outsider at school. the two of you discovered common ground in your shared feelings of pressure, and the lines between tutor and student began to blur. with each passing session, you became more comfortable with one another, a connection forming that neither had anticipated—one built on mutual respect, trust, and the quiet bond of shared struggle.

it was a quiet evening when y/n heard the unexpected knock on her door. she glanced at the clock—there was no study session scheduled for that night, so she wasn’t expecting anyone. her parents were out, and she had been planning on catching up on some reading. she opened the door, a little confused, only to find rafe standing on her porch, looking uncharacteristically disheveled. his usual confident posture was gone, replaced with an uneasy slouch. his eyes were almost bloodshot, and he wore an unfamiliar look on his face—vulnerable, even fragile.

"rafe?" y/n asked, surprised. "what are you doing here?"

he ran a hand through his messy hair and let out a small, strained laugh. "I—I know this is weird. but I, uh... I had a fight with my dad. a big one. he’s pissed about my grades and shit again, and he’s been on my case all week." rafe hesitated, biting his lip as if trying to hold back a wave of frustration. "I... I got high. like really fucking high I know I shouldn’t have, but I just couldn’t handle it. and I needed to get out of there." he looked down at his shoes, his words a little rushed. "I just—" he sighed, clearly frustrated with himself. "I don’t know, I thought maybe you’d—just let me hang out for a bit. I didn’t know where else to go. I didn't wanna seem like a pussy to all of my dumbass friends."

y/n stood frozen for a moment, processing his words. she had never seen him like this. the rafe she knew was always in control, always surrounded by his friends, the football team, and the unshakable air of confidence. this version of him—lost, raw, and uncertain—was a stark contrast. her heart softened at the sight of him, and despite the oddness of the situation, she stepped aside and motioned for him to come in.

"come in," she said, her voice gentle. "let’s sit down."

rafe walked in slowly, his movements sluggish, still unsure of what to say. she led him to the living room and handed him a glass of water, sitting down next to him, a soft hand placed on his back. the room was filled with the low voice of lana del ray and soft hum of the evening, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. rafe finally looked up, meeting her gaze with a look of quiet gratitude mixed with embarrassment along with something untraceable. "I didn’t mean to show up like this, but I didn’t know who else I could trust with this."

y/n’s heart tightened. she had no idea how much weight rafe had been carrying, how much pressure he was under from his father and the constant expectations of being perfect. In that moment, she realized how little she had truly known about him, and yet here he was—vulnerable, raw, and seeking comfort from the one person he had never expected to rely on.

"you don’t have to explain," she said softly. "I’m glad you came." she gave him a weak smile, rafe felt his heart flutter. "so.. how'd you get high? is that stupid question? sorry, you know people are bringing cocaine back into school." he chuckles, she lets out a giggle. "no cocaine here sweetheart, just this." rafe reached into his pocket and pulled out a weed pen, but y/n had never seen anything like it. it was super colorful and weirdly shaped, not like the ones she would see in the bathroom. "can I hold it?" she glanced at rafe, her doe eyes dimly lit with the faint lighting coming from the lamp in the corner. "why? you smoke? no way." he raised his eyebrow at her, but handed her the pen anyway.

"no, I don't smoke but.." she pauses, biting her lip, "I'm tempted. maybe you're just a really bad influence." he scoffed at her, "give it a try, just hold the button and pull it." y/n stood at the device in her hand uncertain. "what do you mean pull?" rafe held back his laugh, she shoots him a glare. "I'm serious." she playfully shoved him.

"yeah yeah I can see that, by pull I mean, suck on it I guess." her face heats up, cursing herself for letting such innocent words cause a fluttery feeling in her stomach. "okay, I'll try." she focused her attention of the pen and did as rafe said, she put the pen up to her lips and "sucked." rafe watched intensely as her lips wrapped around the tip of the pen, he swallows hard. trying to keep his composure, aka stop staring at your boobs in your thin strapped top or imagine your lips wrapped around his dick like that.

you slightly inhale the smoke and it immediately gets caught in your throat. you're now in a coughing frenzy, embarrassed as rafe pats your back. "atta girl, that's how you do it don't try to hold it in, let it out." y/n found herself coughing even more at the sly remarks. she stands up and walks over to the kitchen hastily grabbing an orange fanta from the fridge. she struggles to open it due to her latest french tip set, rafe notices her struggling and walks over. he opens the can with one hand with a sizzle pop! noise, she brings the drink to her lips hoping to relieve her dry mouth.

after taking a couple minutes to calm down, y/n offers rafe to come up to her room. it comes off as a surprise, rafe had never been anywhere in y/n's house except the living room and kitchen, never upstairs. but with no complaint, he follows behind her, watching the way her ass moves as she climbs up the steps. they make it to her room and it's safe to say, it was tidy. everything seemed like it had a place, and the room was lit with purple led's. but the best part of it all, was her bed. the mattress was extremely comfortable and she had an abundance of pillows as well as plushies.

"yeah this fits you, like a doll in a dollhouse." he walks around her room a bit before sitting on her bed getting comfortable.

meanwhile, y/n on the other hand was in a whole other world.

her ears were burning almost, she could hear her heartbeat and her whole body was tingling. she felt nothing short of amazing, euphoric even.

the usual walls between them had melted away, and now, as the evening dragged on, the space between them felt more intimate than it ever had before. there was movie was playing on her TV, but neither of them seemed particularly interested in it. they were both laughing at the silly dialogue and weird moments on the screen, but most of the time their eyes kept drifting back to each other.

rafe broke the silence, his voice softer than usual. "you know," he said, arms wrapped around her waist as she sat on top of him, "this is the most chill I’ve felt in weeks." his eyes were a little glassy, but his smile was genuine, more relaxed than she’d ever seen him. "It’s nice being away from everything… away from the pressure."

she nodded, her head slightly spinning from the effects. the room felt warmer, the air thicker, and rafe’s presence seemed to fill the space between them in a way that felt new. he shifted, his chest brushing against her back, and neither of them pulled away. It felt like a small moment of intimacy, unspoken yet undeniable.

"yeah," she replied, her voice quieter now, "it’s nice not to think about all the things we’re supposed to be worrying about."

"I wonder, do you ever worry about me? think about me at night?" his tone was teasing, but there was something more behind it, something she could feel but couldn’t quite place. It was an invitation, but also something more—like a question she wasn’t sure how to answer. "so much goes on behind those pretty eyes."

y/n felt her heart beat a little faster as she considered it. part of her wanted to stay upright on his lap, maintain the little distance they had been keeping, but something about rafe’s tone, the way his eyes held hers, made her hesitate. she wanted to trust this moment, to let it unfold without overthinking it. she melted into his touch, resting her head in the crook of his neck, thighs pressed together. "I do."

rafe shifted to make room as he breathed in the scent of vanilla, the bed soft beneath him. the air between them was electric now, charged with a tension that neither of them seemed willing to break. the movie was still playing, but neither of them were paying attention to it anymore. they were closer now, the space between them reduced to nothing and for the first time in a long time she wasn't sure of something, she wasn’t sure if she was just feeling the effects of the weed or something more.

rafe leaned back against the pillows, his arms still wrapped around her body. "we don’t have to watch the movie," he said, his voice almost too smooth, like he was testing the waters. his eyes didn’t leave hers, his gaze intent and heavy, and in that moment, the world outside her room seemed to disappear.

y/n’s breath caught in her throat as the tension between them grew. every inch of her body was acutely aware of him, the way his presence felt so overwhelming, so magnetic. she had always seen rafe as someone distant, someone who belonged to a world she could never quite fit into. but now, with the smoke being blown in her face, taken in by slightly parted lips, she felt like they were on the same level.

she opened her mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come. Instead, she just looked at him, her pulse racing as her mind swirled in the haze of the night.

"I wanna touch you."

rafe's breath fell heavy on her ear, sending a slight chill down her spine. her breath hitched, and there was that same flutter in her stomach. she didn't exactly have any experience in things like this but she wasn't entirely clueless, but never dealt with it hands on.

but rafe? he was a fucking sex symbol. several girls would literally leave notes in his locker with their address begging him to fuck them. but he would only rack up two bodies, or so it's said.

both of those girls transferred schools due to death threats.

but y/n doesn't understand why he would choose her.

"touch, me?" her voice was soft, but not afraid. infact, she was more relaxed than ever. "I wanna make you feel good, you're gonna be the fucking death of me. so innocent you don't even notice how you're straddling me, do you?" y/n took notice of how firmly planted on his thigh she was, no longer fully in his lap. "um, well.." rafe placed his hands on her hips, slowly guiding her back and forth. a jolt of pleasure shooting through her body, "rafey." a mewl creept from her lips, rafe was fucking aching in his sweats at this point. hair sticking to his forehead, lips parted slightly. "shit, you want me to stop? just give me the word i'll stop." he halts his movements, earning a disappointed whine.

"I don't want you to stop."

rafe curses under his breath, he slides her onto his lap and grinds his hips up into her, letting out a low groan. "you're a needy girl aren't you? so stressed and pent up. you can let go, I got you." rafe coo'd into her ear, placing soft kisses on her shoulders and moving to her neck, biting and sucking, hands rubbing all over her body, palming her boobs through her top, fingers brushing over her nipples.

rafe turns her head twords him, pressing their lips together. a mix of cherry lipgloss and orange fanta settling on his tongue. the kiss is sloppy and heated, the air in the room is thick as the movie in the background gets drowned out by moans and heavy breaths.

"such a sweet girl, you know that? all the shit you do for me? you deserve a fucking trophy." rafe showers her with praise has he goes back to kissing her neck, hands never leaving her body as she caught the rhythm on her own.

her brain was foggy with pleasure, lips parted but could't respond with anything but moans and "mhm's." rafe plays with the hem of her pajama pants, "can I?" she nods, "words, baby I need to hear you say it."

y/n, almost frustrated lets out a defeated sigh. "yes, but.." she hesitates. "can you take your shirt off?" she says quietly, as if she wasn't already in such a vulnerable state.

rafe chuckles at the sudden request, but does as she says. he pulls his black shirt over his head and tosses it to the floor. y/n does the same. rafe is practically drooling at the sight of the pink lacy bra. his hands cup her breasts through the fabric, she arches her back against his chest. he slides his hand into her pants, glancing down to see that her underwear matched her bra. "so fucking cute."

he rubs her through the fabric, dampness seeping through the material. he teases her with long strides and rubs circles around her clit. he slips his hand into her underwear, almost moaning at the slick. y/n bites her swollen lip in an attempt to save her embarrassment.

"I want you to watch me."

her eyes slowly moved down to rafes hand in her pants, her face heated with embarrassment as she watched rafe's forearm and wrist flexed as he worked her clit, finger teasing her entrance. "I need you to relax, open your legs for me." rafe slowly parted her thighs with his free hand. "good fucking girl, so obedient." he kisses her cheek as he slides a digit into her sopping cunt. she inhales sharply, her head is thrown over his shoulder and her nails dig slightly into his arms.

"shit, just sucking me in. if I didn't know any better i'd think you were a slut." rafe's teasing manner never seemed to stop, he was two fingers, knuckle deep, in his supposed to be tutor. the only thing they were studying were eachothers body movements.

he found a steady pace working his fingers in and out of her, her moans becoming more high pitched, rafe could tell she was close. her hips bucked up into his hand, an unfamiliar knot forming in her stomach.

"rafey— 'm gonna— fuck!"

rafe was in genuine disbelief, not only did he cum in his pants but this was the first time he had ever heard you swear, tonight was a lot of firsts. the girl that he had been crushing on for weeks was about to cum on his fingers, moaning his name. he was never letting her go after this.

almost like it was on cue, y/n's orgasm hit like a truck. her entire body was shaking and she swore she saw starts. on top of that, rafe was still working his fingers in and out of her riding out her orgasm. she swatted his hands away and he took his hand out of her pants, bringing his fingers up to his mouth and licking them clean. she falls off of his lap onto the cool comforter beside him, chest heaving. he lays beside her and wraps his arms around her waist.

"want me to go run a bath, sweetheart?" he kisses the nape of her neck and cages her in. "'n a minute, just stay here for a second."

"didn't plan on leaving." ౨ৎ

[jaylalolz]

Heyy girl i love ur writing so much! Could i do a request of Father Charlie Smut, with him and reader who loves wearing short dresses and skirts but like she’s innocent girl. She wears one during mass and he can’t stop eyeing her the whole time.

❛ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 ❜ . . . nicholas chavez

INNOCENT!reader x PRIEST!charlie 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

SUMMARY, charlie can’t take his eyes off of her while she wears those short skirts all the time. he realizes that she needs to be punished.

A/N, thanks for requesting!! hope you like it.

WARNINGS, smuttyyyy

Charlie stood at the altar, his voice steady as he read from the Bible. It was an ordinary Sunday mass, yet something felt off. His words were focused on the sermon, but his mind kept wandering, distracted by a presence in the crowd. A familiar one. He tried to ignore it at first, pushing through the scriptures, but every few minutes, his eyes darted back to the same spot.

There she was, sitting in the third row—his favorite girl. She had a way of turning heads without even trying.

Charlie noticed her as soon as she entered the church, the short, black skirt she wore clinging tightly to her legs. It was far from appropriate for a Sunday service, or for any visit to church. It wasn’t just the length—barely reaching mid-thigh—but the way she seemed completely unfazed by it, sitting there confidently, crossing and uncrossing her legs like the length didn’t matter.

He could feel a tension rising inside him, an unfamiliar mix of emotions that tugged at his composure. Why had she worn that here, of all places?

As mass ended and people began filtering out, Charlie couldn’t help but keep his eyes on her. He needed to say something, to address it before it gnawed at him further. With a sigh, he stepped down from the altar and walked toward her.

She was lingering by the restrooms, her usual smile playing on her lips. As soon as she saw Charlie approaching, her eyes brightened.

“Charlie,” she said warmly, tilting her head. “Your sermon was great today.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, his tone a little more serious than usual. He paused, looking at her outfit up close, his brow furrowing. “can we talk for a second?”

Her smile faltered just a bit, noticing the change in his mood. “Sure,” she said slowly, stepping aside with him.

Charlie took a breath, keeping his voice low. “Listen… I couldn’t help but notice what you’re wearing today.”

She blinked, her brows raising in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“The skirt,” he gestured awkwardly, his eyes darting to the hem that barely covered anything. “It’s… not exactly appropriate for church.”

She looked down at her outfit, as if she hadn’t even thought about it before. Her expression was neutral, but there was a hint of something else in her eyes—maybe defiance. “Is it bothering you?”

He shifted on his feet, unsure how to respond. “It’s just… This is a place of worship. People come here to connect with God, and I think what you’re wearing might distract from that. Not just for me—for everyone.”

Her lips curled into a small smile, her voice softening. “Are you saying I’m distracting you, Charlie?”

His face heated up at her teasing tone, but he forced himself to stay serious. “I’m not trying to make this personal. I’m just asking you to be mindful of where you are.”

She studied him for a moment, her eyes searching his face as if weighing her next words carefully. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene. It’s just a skirt, Charlie. Can’t help it if people stare.”

“I know that,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “But people judge, whether we like it or not. And in a place like this, modesty is important.”

Her smile faded, her expression softening. She looked him in the eye, sensing the sincerity behind his words. “I didn’t think it would be such a big deal. But… I’ll be more careful next time.”

He exhaled in relief, nodding. “Thanks. I just want to make sure everyone’s focus is where it should be.”

She gave him a playful nudge. “Well, maybe you just need to focus a little better.”

“You think this is appropriate? You’re drawing attention to the wrong things” Charlie ran a hand through his hair, trying to keep his cool. He knew he wasn’t explaining it right, but the way she stood there, so confident in defying him, was only making his thoughts more muddled.

She cut him off, her eyes narrowing. “Drawing attention? Isn’t that a you problem? Maybe you’re the one who’s distracted, not me.”

Her words hit a nerve, and suddenly, everything Charlie had been holding back came flooding out. “Yes, I am distracted!” His voice was louder than he intended, but it was too late to stop now. “Do you think it’s easy standing up there, trying to give a sermon, trying to focus on leading a mass, when you’re sitting there in the front row, wearing something that… that—”

“That what?” she pressed, her tone icy now.

Charlie swallowed hard, the confession finally spilling from his lips. “That makes it impossible not to notice you. Every time I look out at the congregation, you’re the first person I see. And it’s distracting. It’s not just about the skirt, it’s about… you.”

The air between them felt heavy with his words, and for a moment, She seemed stunned. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, processing what he had just admitted.

“You know,” he began, his voice low and smooth, “I bet you like it when I give you my attention.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt the color rise to her cheeks. She quickly looked away, trying to laugh it off, but her laugh came out awkward, a bit too high-pitched, betraying the nerves that were now crawling their way up her spine.

“What are you talking about?” she said, trying to sound casual, but her voice wavered. She could feel the heat in her face, the way her hands suddenly felt restless as she fiddled with the edge of the throw pillow beside her.

Charlie chuckled, leaning forward slightly, narrowing the distance between them. “You do this thing,” he continued, his eyes never leaving her, “where you act like you don’t care, like I’m not getting to you. But I can see it.” His voice dropped lower, his tone almost teasing. “I can always see it.”

Her heart raced faster now, a dull thrum in her chest. She pressed her lips together, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t wrong. Of course, he wasn’t wrong. She hated that he could read her so easily, hated that she couldn’t hide how his attention made her feel. Nervous, yes. But there was more to it than that, and she wasn’t ready to admit what that was.

“You’re full of yourself,” she finally managed, her words barely above a whisper.

Charlie’s smile widened, that maddening, knowing smile that only made her nerves worse. He leaned back again, but his eyes still held her captive. “Maybe. But I’m not wrong, am I?”

She swallowed, trying to hold onto whatever was left of her composure. “You’re imagining things,” she said, shaking her head, but even to her ears, the denial sounded weak.

“Am I? cause for some reason you always wear a skirt when your around me. I’m not stupid. ” he asked, his tone challenging now, as though daring her to keep denying it.

she looked away again, desperate to break the tension that was steadily building between them. But it was too late. His words had already burrowed into her mind, making it impossible to escape the truth she was trying so hard to ignore.

"Just admit it, already," Charlie said, his voice low and certain, sending a ripple of heat through her.

She swallowed, her hands fidgeting in her lap as she desperately tried to hold onto some sense of control. "Admit what?"

Charlie smirked, standing up from his spot and slowly walking toward her. He was too close now, his presence too overwhelming, the scent of his cologne filling the air around her. He stopped just inches away, his gaze holding hers captive, daring her to keep pretending she didn't know what he was talking about.

"You like it when I give you my attention," he said, his voice almost a whisper, but every word felt like it hit her with the weight of something inevitable. "You like it when I make you nervous."

Her breath caught in her throat. She could feel the heat rising in her face, the rush of adrenaline making her pulse quicken. She wanted to deny it, to brush off his words like she always did, but something about the way he was looking at her made it impossible to lie.

Charlie took another step closer, so close now that she could feel the warmth of his body radiating toward her.

She leaned back slightly, her back pressing against the wall as if it would give her some distance from the truth staring her in the face.

"Charlie, I-" she started, but the words got caught, tangled with her emotions.

He leaned in just a little more, his face inches from hers, his breath warm against her skin. She could feel the tension between them building to a breaking point. His eyes softened, just a flicker of something raw and real underneath the teasing. And in that moment, she knew he wasn't going to let her hide.

"Admit it," he whispered, his voice so quiet, yet so commanding. "You wear those skirts for me”

She hesitated for a split second, her heart pounding in her chest, her thoughts racing, before she finally let go. It was terrifying how right he was.

The way he made her feel, the way his attention seemed to pull her in, no matter how much she tried to fight it.

She couldn't keep denying it, not to him, and not to herself.

"I wear them for you," she finally whispered, her voice barely audible, but she knew he heard her.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Charlie's face, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The air between them seemed to buzz with something electric, something inevitable.

Then, before she could overthink it, before she could take it back, Charlie's hand was at her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin as he tilted her face up to his. The world seemed to slow down, the room spinning away until there was only him, only them, in this moment they both knew was coming.

"Good," he murmured softly, his eyes locked on hers. "My naughty fucking girl."

And then, with a deliberate slowness, he leaned down and kissed her.

It wasn't hesitant or unsure. His lips were warm, soft, yet firm against hers, and the moment they connected, something inside her melted. She felt herself lean into him, her hands instinctively finding their way to his chest, clutching his shirt like it was the only thing holding her upright.

The kiss deepened, his hand slipping into her hair, pulling her just a little closer. She could feel the tension unraveling between them, all the unspoken words and hidden feelings pouring out in that one perfect moment.

Everything else faded away-the nerves, the fear, the constant push and pull-until all that was left was the warmth of his lips on hers, the way his touch seemed to set her skin on fire.

When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathless, their foreheads resting against each other's. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, both caught up in the aftermath of what had just happened, of what had been building for so long.

He says, "I thought about you every single day after I met you for the first time," as he presses kisses to her cheek and slides his hands down her arms in a leisurely motion that mimics the path his wet lips followed on the way up.

She's trying to listen, but as they explore, the ache he's started between her legs feels like it's pulsating in her ears, and his hands are scratching her skin. He shakes his head and lets out a breathy laugh before giving her another painful kiss and nips in between his low, hoarse confessions. “Always thought about those fucking skirts you wore" When he traces his sharp nails from the inside of her knees up to the tops of my inner thighs, she gasps.

He presses his mouth to her ear, his hot breath making her shiver. "No one compares to you," he mumbles, his voice lowering to a low pitch that turns her stomach. He presses his face against her head and lets out a deep groan as the fingers on one hand slide higher and higher until they draw a slow, agonizing stroke up her heat. The other hand smooths back up her stomach.

Her eyes roll closed and she can only hold her breath as her head lulls back. "All those times you teased me.. I think you deserve to get punished," he says forcing her to a wall.

He exhales, "Shit, you're soaking." She can feel his chest rising and falling rapidly against her back as he lingers, slowly and indulgently stroking his fingers along her shamefully damp folds, avoiding where she really needs them. Nipping at the flesh on her neck, he mumbles against her, "Such a good girl for me, yeah?" she nods eagerly.

One of Charlie's fingers sneaks up and softly wraps around her throat, while the other eventually slides up to rest on the area that has been throbbing ever since he had her pinned to a wall. He maintains his lips tight against her ear, matching the pants pouring out of her, starting to circle his fingers around her clit in the same rhythm.

"Do you feel that?" He flicks her nerves more quickly and puts more pressure on them while rasping into her ear. ��your chest get tighter and your heart beating faster?"

She shifts her hips against him mindlessly, her mouth hanging wide, and she doesn't even know how she manages to say a breathless yes, but nevertheless, she manages. "How incredible that feels, you never want it to end?" He goes on, getting a closer hold on her throat, not tight enough to stop her breathing, but tight enough to pull a high-pitched groan out of her, taking her earlobe between his teeth. She panted out another yes and swallowed. "That's how I feel when you're around me, looking at me through your eyelashes- smiling at me. I can feel it in my bones."

She squirms, unable to keep still at the fire igniting inside of her, between what he's saying and what he's doing with his fingers, and her legs begin to shake. His loud, taunting voice reverberates around her, his untamed hair strewn about with strands falling in front of his hungry gaze. "No coming just yet, Angel. I need to taste you."

She can only fling her head back and hide a choked groan the moment he presses his lips to her warmth. He offers her one last slow, dimpled smirk as he wraps his arms around her thighs, holding onto her hips as he sits between her legs. His warm tongue flattens against her clit as his fingers bite into her skin while he lets a deep sigh that rumbles up through him and vibrates against her and she whine at the feeling.

Her back arches as she lets out wild cries that she can't control, and she's clinging to his hair for dear life as his tongue begins to circle and draw deft patterns against her nerves. Her senses are completely assaulted by the guttural moans and growls that are coming out of him as he relishes every response he receives from her. The stress within her was nearly too much for her to bear.

She cries out at the sensation as he his ring and middle finger enters her. The build-up to everything and the delicate way he's sucking and lapping at her pulsating core while his fingers coil inside of her to target that point that has her vision blurring are just too many sensations happening at once. He retracts his tongue while maintaining a fixed gaze on her. He accelerates the speed of his fingers, purposefully striking the area of her body that is producing such a strong pressure.

"Charlie" She exclaim, "What-What is, I don't know what's-oh fuck"; she squeezes her eyes tight, feeling a growing sense of violence inside of her. He examines her expression and quickens the tempo of his careful fingers. He purrs, encouraging her to go forward as he flicks his eyes down to watch his fingers thrust into her. "Don't worry baby, just go with it, it's okay, you're okay".

He moans as he continues to watch what he's doing. She begins to shake, her muscles contracting. She can no longer resist the sensation that her body is having a seizure and going into seclusion at the same time. "Charlie!" She throws her head back, arches off the wall, and yells until the pain tears through her like nothing she has ever experienced. When it finally fades, every part of her body feels as heavy as cement, and she nearly collapses on the ground, her chest heaving as she tries to take in as much oxygen as she can.

“Never wear that skirt again or you’ll regret it”

[ruewrote]

𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒.

PAIRING: josh washington x fem!reader WARNINGS: teasing, no use of y/n, touching GENRE: fluff SONG INSPIRATION: meddle about by chase atlantic WORD COUNT: 1k NOTE: ghostface!josh coming soon . . .

navigation | ask | josh washington masterlist

josh always had to be touching you. it was something you noticed early on in your friendship, but it had grown more noticeable over time. a casual brush of his fingers across your waist when he walked by, how his hand would find yours when no one was looking.

at first, you didn’t think much of it, it was just josh, always needing someone close. 

but now? now it felt like more.

tonight, the group had gathered in the theater room of the washington lodge for what was supposed to be a relaxing evening after a long day of hiking.

the lights were dim and you were sprawled out on the large sectional with everyone, blankets thrown over legs, as a movie played on the tv. josh, predictably, had taken his usual place next to you, his thigh pressed against yours under the blanket, his hand resting on your knee like always.

it wasn’t like he was doing anything that anyone else would notice, it was subtle, almost innocent. but you felt it. the warmth of his hand on your leg sent tingles up your spine and it was almost impossible to ignore the way your heart beat just a little faster when he touched you.

"you two are practically glued together," emily teased from across the couch, smirking as she sipped her drink. "it’s cute. you can’t stand to be apart for five seconds?"

josh, unfazed as ever, grinned. “what can i say? i’m a hands-on kind of guy.”

you rolled your eyes, chuckling softly, but the way his fingers squeezed your knee for just a second sent a jolt through you. he wasn’t letting go, not even when everyone else joined in on the teasing.

ashley leaned over the back of the couch, an exaggerated look of pity on her face. "i mean, it’s cute and all, but how do you breathe? he’s always touching you.”

josh shrugged, still looking completely comfortable. “she doesn’t seem to mind.” his voice was playful, but there was an edge of seriousness beneath it.

you glanced over at him, your pulse quickening. no, you didn’t mind. in fact, you had grown to expect it, maybe even craved it. his presence, his touch. it had a calming effect on you, even if it was doing the opposite to your emotions now.

your friends had been teasing about this for weeks and you weren’t sure how to explain the connection without sounding ridiculous.

"she knows that i'm just that good at making sure she’s comfortable," josh said with a quick grin. "it’s kinda my thing."

emily laughed. “at this point, i wouldn’t be surprised if you two woke up spooning!”

you felt the blush rising to your cheeks as you shoved josh lightly, but his hand slid down your leg, brushing the inside of your thigh, lingering just a second too long before pulling away. you froze, the sensation sending a wave of warmth through you.

he shot you a quick look, eyes twinkling with amusement, but there was something else behind them.

before you could respond, chris called out from the other side of the couch. “what? it’s just a little friendly affection, right?” he winked, clearly teasing.

“yep,” you agreed quickly, your voice coming out more breathless than intended. “totally. just friends.”

josh gave a low hum, leaning back and stretching his arm out along the back of the couch, his fingertips brushing against your shoulder. “if you say so,” he murmured softly, only for you to hear. the weight of his touch felt heavier now, his fingers grazing your skin.

as the movie droned on, your focus drifted away from the screen. your mind was entirely on josh, the way his body was so close to yours, the way his touch lingered. you found yourself leaning into him more without realising it, like you were drawn to him just as much as he was to you.

the others had mostly gone back to watching the movie, though there were still occasional glances your way, always with that teasing edge but josh didn’t seem to care. his thumb traced slow circles on your shoulder now, his hand occasionally slipping down to brush your arm. 

you turned your head slightly, looking up at him. he wasn’t even looking at the movie anymore. his focus was entirely on you.

“josh?” you whispered, keeping your voice low enough that the others wouldn’t hear.

“hmm?” his eyes flicked down to meet yours, his expression soft but with that familiar mischievous glint.

you hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to say what was on your mind. “why do you always…?” you trailed off, not sure how to phrase it without sounding too obvious.

he smiled, a knowing look crossing his face. “always what?”

“always… touch me,” you finished quietly, your pulse quickening at the vulnerability in your own words.

josh’s smile didn’t fade, but his gaze grew a little more serious. he leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper as his hand moved from your shoulder to your cheek, cupping it gently. “it’s… comforting. you’re comforting.”

you stared at him, heart racing as the weight of his words sank in. there was more to it, you could feel it, more than just the comfort of touch. there was something between you that had always been there, quietly lingering beneath the surface.

“you don’t mind, do you?” his thumb brushed against your cheek now, the gentle motion sending a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the blankets.

you swallowed hard, your breath catching in your throat. “no,” you whispered. “i don’t mind.”

josh’s gaze flickered down to your lips for a second before returning to your eyes. there was a moment of hesitation, but then he leaned in just a little closer. “good,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

“because i don’t think i could stop even if i tried.”

comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

© ruewrote 2024.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Reminder || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: It was just harmless banter between you and another socialite, but rafe reminds again you what the diamond ring meant on your finger.

Warnings: angst, jealous/possesive rafe hehehehe

Word count: 2,160

A/n: guys guys guys it's getting hot in here.

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The gala is in full swing, the grand ballroom echoing with the hum of conversation and the soft clinking of champagne glasses. You stand next to Rafe, dressed to perfection in an elegant gown that draws more than a few eyes in your direction. Rafe's hand rests lightly on your waist, his touch possessive but distant—as it usually is during events like this—as you mingle with other high-society figures.

The night feels long, your polished smile tiring as you listen to half-hearted pleasantries from the guests surrounding you. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Alexander Hawthorne making his way over, his smile wide and confident, his eyes locked on you. He’s known for his silver tongue and effortless charm, especially with married women. Tonight, his gaze feels particularly intent.

"Well, well, if it isn't the most beautiful woman in the room," Alexander says smoothly, his eyes lingering on you just a little too long. "You always manage to outshine everyone, don’t you?" You offer a playful smile, aware of Rafe's tightening grip on your waist. "Oh, you flatter me, Alexander," you reply lightly, not fully dismissing the compliment. "But I’m sure there are plenty of others here more deserving of your attention." Alexander chuckles, clearly pleased that you're playing along.

"I highly doubt that. No one else in this room could possibly compare." His eyes flicker briefly to Rafe, but he seems unfazed by his presence. "I was actually hoping to steal you away for a dance, if I may be so bold." You glance at Rafe from the corner of your eye. His jaw is clenched, his posture rigid, but he says nothing. The tension between you and him has been building over the past few weeks, and part of you enjoys testing his limits.

"A dance?" you echo, your tone teasing. "That sounds tempting." Rafe’s hand tightens even more on your waist, his irritation palpable. "I don’t think that’s a good idea," Rafe’s voice cuts through the playful banter, his tone sharp and controlled, though you can feel the storm brewing beneath the surface. His grip on your waist has gone from possessive to borderline painful, but you don’t flinch.

Instead, you tilt your head and glance up at him, your expression sweet yet defiant. "Oh? Why not, darling?" you ask, your voice dripping with mock innocence. "It’s just a harmless dance." Alexander, sensing the tension but relishing the drama, grins wider. "Come on, Rafe, it’s just a dance. Surely you trust your wife enough to let her have a bit of fun tonight?"

You notice Rafe’s jaw clench even tighter. He glares at Alexander, but the challenge is unspoken, simmering beneath the surface. You can feel Rafe’s jealousy in the way his body stiffens beside you, and for some reason, the idea of provoking him further feels oddly satisfying. "I don’t mind," you continue, turning your gaze back to Alexander.

"After all, it’s not every day a charming man asks me to dance." Rafe’s fingers dig into your side, and you suppress a wince, though your heart flutters at the possessiveness. "You’re not going anywhere," Rafe says, his voice dangerously low. His eyes lock on Alexander, who merely raises his brow in amusement.

"Rafe," you start, keeping your tone light though there’s an edge to it, "you’re being dramatic. It’s just one dance." But you know you’ve pushed him too far. The moment the words leave your lips, you feel Rafe's grip on your waist disappear, replaced by an icy tension that makes your breath catch. In one swift motion, Rafe steps forward, his broad shoulders blocking Alexander from your view entirely.

His stance is commanding, exuding an unmistakable fury, though his face remains composed—a deadly calm that’s somehow more terrifying than if he had exploded. "Back off, Hawthorne," Rafe snaps, his voice a cold, simmering threat. Each word is sharp, delivered with a quiet intensity that sends a chill through the air. "You don’t want to test me right now." If it wasn't Rafe height that loomed over him that intimidated him, it was the icy look in Rafe's eyes that did.

Alexander’s usual bravado falters, and though he holds up his hands in a gesture of nonchalance, the gleam in his eyes fades. If it wasn’t Rafe’s towering height that made him take a step back, it was the icy, penetrating look in Rafe’s eyes. Alexander hesitates, his playful smirk faltering, eyes flickering between you and Rafe.

"Alright, alright. Didn’t mean to step on any toes." He glances at you with a wink before adding, "But you can’t blame a man for trying, right?" Rafe’s gaze doesn’t waver. His silence hangs heavy in the space between them, tension crackling like electricity. It’s clear that Alexander, for all his charm and wit, knows better than to push Rafe any further.

As soon as Alexander retreats, Rafe's shoulders remain stiff, his body radiating with tension. The darkness in his eyes lingers, the anger now fully redirected toward you. Without a word, his hand closes around your wrist, not painfully, but firmly enough to make it clear that this conversation isn’t over. He pulls you with him, weaving through the crowd and out of the grand ballroom, into the quieter, more secluded hallways of the estate.

The moment you’re alone, Rafe spins around to face you, his body towering over yours as he leans down, his breath warm and rapid against your ear. The fury in his gaze makes your stomach twist with both dread and excitement. "What the hell was that?" Rafe growls, his voice barely above a whisper but thick with anger. His grip on your wrist tightens just slightly as he looks down at you, eyes wild with accusation.

"Flirting with him right in front of me?" You lift your chin, meeting his gaze with a calmness you don’t quite feel. "It was just harmless fun, Rafe," you reply, though your voice lacks its usual conviction, "you’re the one who overreacted." "Harmless?" Rafe repeats, his voice growing even lower, his face so close now you can feel the heat of his hander.

"He was crossing the line, and frankly, so were you" Rafe steps closer, his body looming over you, his hand gripping your waist. "You think I didn’t see the way he was looking at you? Or how you were playing along?" You swallow, your heart beating faster at the intensity in his eyes. "Maybe I was," you admit, your voice steady but challenging. "Maybe I wanted to see how far I could push you. Like I said, it was harmless."

Rafe's grip on your waist tightens even further, his fingers pressing firmly into your side, the pressure bordering on painful. You let out a small groan, a sound that escapes involuntarily from the mix of discomfort and the charged intensity of the moment. The pain is sharp, a physical reminder of his anger and possessiveness, and you can’t help but shiver at the heat of his touch.

"I don't care if it was harmless," Rafe growls, his voice low and dangerous. "You're not playing those fucking games with me." Each word is punctuated with a barely restrained fury, his breath hot against your skin. You want to speak, to push back, but the fire in Rafe's eyes freezes you in place. The fierce protectiveness radiating from him mixes with his jealousy, overwhelming and intoxicating.

His hand moves from your waist to your hand, fingers brushing over the large diamond on your wedding ring. "Did you forget what this ring meant?" Rafe's voice is low, almost a growl, as he taps the diamond, each tap a reminder of the vow that binds you both. The possessiveness in his touch sends a shudder through you, your breath catching as his lips graze your ear once more.

You can feel the tension thick in the air between you, the hallway around you fading into insignificance as his words cut deep. "You’re mine," he whispers, his tone raw, dangerous, and resolute. "And I don’t share." Your heart pounds in your chest, a mix of thrill and fear coursing through you at the intensity of his words. You glance down at the ring he’s tapping, a tangible symbol of everything that’s between you—love, control, obligation, desire. It’s suffocating, yet addictive.

You shiver as Rafe’s words linger in the air, thick with possessiveness. His grip on your wrist tightens, but it’s the way he looks at you that keeps you frozen in place—intense, unrelenting, a silent challenge burning in his eyes. You try to keep your composure, to push back against the overwhelming force of his jealousy. "Rafe," you say softly, your voice barely steady. "It was just a dance. It wouldn’t have meant anything."

"That’s not the fucking point," he snaps, his tone sharper now. He steps closer, his body pressing against yours, almost forcing you to look up at him. "You knew exactly what you were doing. I saw the way you looked at him—like you wanted me to react." You swallow hard, but you refuse to break eye contact. "Maybe I did," you admit, your voice low but challenging. "Maybe I wanted to see if you even care."

The words hang between you, and for a moment, Rafe’s expression shifts—his anger momentarily flickering into something else, something raw and vulnerable. But just as quickly, his walls slam back up, his face hardening again. He releases your wrist, but not before pulling you closer, his lips inches from yours, the tension crackling between you.

"Care?" he growls. "You think I don’t care when I’m right here, watching you entertain someone else? You’re mine, and I won’t let anyone forget it." You feel the possessiveness in his words like a pulse between you, and despite the storm raging inside him, there’s something about it that draws you in. His jealousy, his frustration—it’s all because of you, because deep down, beneath the cold exterior, he does care. You can feel it, even if he won’t admit it out loud.

Your voice softens, just enough to break through the tension. "I wasn’t trying to make you angry, Rafe." "You know that’s a lie," he murmurs, his eyes locked onto yours. His voice drops lower, and you can feel the intensity in his words. "But you succeeded. And I don’t like being tested." You glance down for a moment, trying to gather yourself, but when you look back up at him, your heart beats faster.

"Maybe I wanted to see if you still care. Lately… it feels like you’ve been distant." His jaw clenches at your confession, his eyes narrowing slightly. For a brief second, something softer flickers across his features—a trace of regret. But Rafe doesn’t back down, his hand still resting on your lower back, firm and possessive. "I’ve been busy," he mutters, but you know it’s not the full truth. You’re about to push him on it when he pulls you closer, his breath warm against your cheek.

"But that doesn’t mean I don’t care. You should know that by now." You let the silence stretch between you, your body pressed against his as you absorb his words. His anger, his frustration, all boil down to the same thing—he doesn’t want to lose you, not to someone like Alexander or anyone else. "You don’t have to act so cold all the time, you know," you whisper, your voice soft but daring.

Rafe’s lips curl slightly into a smirk, though his eyes remain serious. "You think I’m cold?" "Most of the time." You challenge him, your tone laced with honesty. His hand moves from your back to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Then I’ll remind you," he says, his voice low and dangerous, "how I feel about you."

Before you can respond, Rafe leans in and captures your lips with his, the kiss fierce and possessive, like he’s trying to prove something—to himself, to you. His hand tightens around you, pulling you closer until there’s no space between you, every inch of his body pressing against yours. The kiss is raw, full of unspoken frustration, but also something deeper—something neither of you are ready to name.

When he finally pulls back, his breathing heavy, he keeps his forehead pressed against yours. "Don’t ever doubt that you’re mine," he whispers, his voice ragged but full of conviction. Your breath comes in shallow, your heart racing from the intensity of it all. "And you’re mine," you murmur back, your fingers curling into his jacket, holding him close.

Rafe pulls you back into him, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Let’s get out of here. I’m done with this place." Without waiting for your response, he takes your hand and leads you out of the manor, his grip possessive, his pace quick. You follow silently, your heart racing, knowing that tonight’s encounter has stirred something deeper between you both—something raw and dangerous that neither of you can ignore any longer.

[sloaneispunk]

“love is a losing game”

frontman! (hwang in-ho) x you

what if frontman had joined the first games with gi-hun? in-ho seeked thrill and decided to become a player in the first games, meeting you. when it was time to play ‘marbles’, he was caught between a dilemma of letting you or his cover go

· · · ──── 𖣠𖣠𖣠 ──── · · ·

‘this game will be played in pairs. please find a partner and shake hands to indicate your pairings’

in-ho was the first to look at you. “y/n, play with me.”

you looked at him stunned, “you want me? what if it’s a game that needs strength?”

“you’re the strongest person i know here, so it’s a yes?” he smiled, waiting for you to shake his hand.

then, you looked to gi-hun who was watching the two of you expectantly as his face dropped. when he saw the worry on your face he shook his head. “no, you two go ahead, i’ll find someone else to play with.”

you gave him a sympathetic smile before turning back at in-ho, taking his hand.

when the timer came to an end, everyone moved towards the next room.

“ah! y’all bastards, play with me please! you need me!” player 212 pleaded as the guards started to approach her. she was the only player that hadn’t found a partner.

her screams and pleads pierced your ears as you looked back at her being dragged away by the guards.

“don’t look.” in-ho said, using his hand to gently turn your head away from the sight.

· · · ──── 𖣠𖣠𖣠 ──── · · ·

you and in-ho followed the guard to your assigned places. it was the porch of a small wooden house, just like yours when you were younger. despite the fake set up, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of nostalgia, taking in your surroundings. small trees encircled the house, its leaves seeming as real as ever.

“i wonder what game they’re going to make us play.” you wondered aloud as you sat on the porch steps.

‘the game is marbles. each player will be given ten marbles, you are to play any game of your choice. the winner will be determined by having all twenty marbles’

your eyes shot to in-ho. “that means…”

“there can only be one winner.” he finished, looking back solemnly.

your distress was rising quickly as the tension between the two of you thickened.

you rushed to the guard, “can we switch partners, please? i can’t play with him!”

“y/n-”

“please.” you sobbed, but the guard remained unfazed.

“hey, it’s okay. we have time, let’s just sit down and talk.” he gave you a smile, taking your hand leading you back to the porch steps.

“in-ho-”

“so what movies do you like?” he cut you off, that stupid smile still bright on his face.

after a brief moment of silence, you answered. “i-i guess i like the marvel movies.”

“yeah? do you have a favourite superhero?”

“black widow.” you let out a suppressed laugh. “as a kid i looked up to her, she was strong.”

“she’s pretty badass, isn’t she?”

you chuckled. “yeah, she is.”

even though it was obvious that in-ho was simply trying to uplift the mood it felt like it was working. if you were going to die here, it might as well be with in-ho.

· · · ──── 𖣠𖣠𖣠 ──── · · ·

time passed and now you only had five minutes left on the clock, anxiety bubbled in your stomach.

“what do you want to do when you get out of here?” you asked in-ho, your head now rested on his shoulder.

he pulled you closer, making sure you were nice and comfortable before he replied. “i guess, pay off my debts and start a new life… maybe a nice apartment with a dog.”

“i like that.” you agreed.

“what about you?” he asked, looking down, placing a kiss on your head as he did so.

“find my family. we’ll all live together again, i’ll buy a big house and we can all be happy.”

“that sounds nice.” he whispered.

“we should play a game.” you sighed, lifting your head. you pulled your legs together, crossing them as you turned to face him, marbles in hand.

“we can play rock paper scissors, winner takes all.” he suggested.

“i really don’t want to play against you.” you said barely above a whisper, looking down.

he smiled, lifting your head up with his finger. “it’ll be okay. on my count okay?”

you nodded hesitantly.

“rock, paper, scissors, shoot.”

you threw scissors.

in-ho threw rock.

but he knew better, quickly changing it to paper right before your eyes.

without a word said, he gave you his ten marbles.

“no! in-ho, you can’t do that!” you shouted, tears flooding to your eyes.

“ah, i knew i should’ve threw rock.” he laughed to himself, acting oblivious.

you got up, kneeling down before him as you grabbed his collar.

“let’s play again, that wasn’t fair!”

“no, the rules were that. i guess i lost.”

you started to weep at his feet. in-ho had been there for you ever since the first game of red light, green light, taking you under his wing.

he would spend the nights keeping watch over you as you slept, pairing with you in every game so he could win for the both of you. he even kept the ridiculous goons away from you when you were being threatened by them, and now you were going to lose the only person you trusted in the game.

he was your best friend and your lover, he couldn’t possibly be stripped away from you just like that.

“y/n, please don’t cry, you’re going to make me cry.” he tried to laugh it off, but he felt his eyes stinging.

he gently scooped you up from the ground, making you face him as he pulled you close, your head on his chest as he shushed, rocking you back and forth.

“you’re okay.” he cooed, “you’re a strong girl, you’re going to make it out, right?”

you shook your head ‘no’.

“yeah, you will. you’ll leave the game with the money, find your family and live a happy life.”

“not without you.” you cried. “i can’t do this without you, in-ho, please. i need you.”

his heart broke into a million pieces. this whole character of his was a facade but it suddenly felt all so real for a moment.

in-ho realised that he too couldn’t live without you, but as frontman, he didn’t have a choice. for now, he could only give you the comfort and company you needed.

“look at me, y/n.” he said softly as you lifted your head once more.

“you’re the most beautiful, compassionate and the toughest girl i’ve ever met. you’ve got what it takes to get out of here… my strong girl is still right inside here.” he pointed to your heart, making you sniffle. “i’ve had the best moments of my life playing these games with you.”

“me too.” you admitted.

he cupped your face, pulling you in for a first and last kiss.

it was full of emotion, relief, joy but also grief. when you pulled away, he nodded, asking you to leave as the timer reached your last ten seconds.

without a choice, you slowly walked out into the corridor, leaving in-ho behind. you couldn’t bear to look at him again, tears still streaming down your face as you were escorted to the exit.

then, there was a loud bang. a gunshot.

‘player 002 eliminated.’

it felt like a part of you had died along with him.

· · · ──── 𖣠𖣠𖣠 ──── · · ·

when he had made sure that you made it through the exit, in-ho glared at the guard.

“dickhead, do you know how close that was to my feet?” he scolded, pushing past him as he walked towards the backdoor.

yes, he felt awful about the whole faking his death thing. but what choice did he have? he knew that he couldn’t let you die on his behalf, he was going to get out of the game either way.

but a part of him was filled with overwhelming sadness, because this meant that meeting you would just be a memory now. there was no way he could face you again.

he sat alone in the dark back in his control room, whiskey in hand as he tried to drown the pain.

· · · ──── 𖣠𖣠𖣠 ──── · · ·

when you met up again with gi-hun, you ran up to hug him but your tears wouldn’t stop flowing. you sobbed the entire time, it didn’t a genius to immediately know what had happened.

he stayed with you the whole night. even when you jerked awake from nightmares, gi-hun made sure to calm you down, ensuring that you got enough rest.

during meal time when you could only stare at your food, he ensured that he kept the food, just in case you ever got hungry in the middle of the night.

little did you know, in-ho kept watch too from behind the screen.

there was a sense of comfort as he watched gi-hun treat you as if you were his very own daughter. he knew that you were in safe hands… for now.

but he knew that sang-woo had turned completely cold-hearted. he was going to be a threat to your safety.

in-ho picked up the walkie talkie on his table, “keep player 455 safe, whatever it takes.”

but how was he going to keep sang-woo away from you?

· · · ──── 𖣠𖣠𖣠 ──── · · ·

a little angst couldn’t hurt anyone.

[ventismacchiato]

17 stuck with you — jealousy jealousy !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

content warning: oblivious idiots

MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT: YOUR POINT OF VIEW

When you and the others returned from the island, you walked into the dorms to find everyone either drunk or in the process of getting there. When Yae asked what everyone wanted for catering, the unanimous answer was alcohol—until Jean reminded them they’d need food too.

You’d had a drink or two and were playing a halfhearted game of cards on the floor with Venti and Aether. Nobody seemed interested in going to bed. Getting drunk was the perfect way to forget the stress of the show.

Scara sat near the door, absentmindedly pulling out blocks in the game of Jenga Fischl had set up beside him. The atmosphere was surprisingly calm…for now.

Then Mona stood up from where she’d been teaching Yoimiya how to make a drink and plopped down next to Scara. He didn’t look too thrilled by the move.

“So, Kuni?” she slurred.

You froze at the name. Scara had made it clear that nobody but you called him that.

“Don’t call me that,” Scara muttered, his voice flat.

“Aww, why not? I thought I meant more than that,” Mona teased, clearly influenced by the alcohol.

“Can you go bother someone else?” Scara shot back.

“Don’t be like that!” Mona huffed, nudging him with her shoulder. “Want a massage? You used to love my massages.” She said the last part while looking directly at you, her hand casually caressing Scara’s shoulder. You quickly looked away, trying not to make it obvious that you were listening.

Scara removed her hand from his shoulder, pointedly avoiding eye contact. Mona didn’t let it go.

“Why won’t you just pay attention to me?” she whined, leaning closer.

“Can you not?” Scara finally turned to face her, his voice sharp. “What the hell are you even doing here?”

At this point, the whole room was trying to act like they weren’t paying attention, but it was clear they were all watching

“I just wanted to talk—” Mona began, but Scara interrupted her.

“I mean, what are you doing on this island?”

“I came to win you over,” Mona said, as though the answer was obvious.

“You’re the one who broke up with me,” Scara huffed, crossing his arms. “Don’t give me that bullshit.”

Mona took a long swig from her drink, unfazed.

“I didn’t want to,” she sighed, her voice thick with alcohol. “I would’ve stuck it out if your mom hadn’t… well…”

You felt a flush of heat spread across your face at the mention of Scara’s mother. You weren’t the only one who noticed; Childe, Aether, and Kazuha exchanged glances, each looking more uncomfortable by the second.

Scara grabbed Mona’s glass from her hand, his fingers tight around it. “You should shut up.”

Mona, however, was too far gone to be deterred.

“How could I not take the contract? You know how bad my old management was. I had no choice. It was either that or you. You know how it is.”

It was only when she noticed the entire room was staring at her that a little sobriety seemed to return. She clamped her palm over her mouth and stared at Scara, wide-eyed.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to say that,” she mumbled, her voice the most sincere it had been all night.

Scara didn’t answer. He just stared at the ground, his face unreadable, while Mona rambled her apology. The rest of the room shifted awkwardly, unsure if they should intervene or just let it pass. You could feel your heart race, had that been the real reason for their breakup? You had always thought Scara had ended things on his own terms. 

Mona reached out for him, but Scara stood up abruptly, stepping over the scattered Jenga blocks on the floor as he moved toward the door. It creaked open, letting in a cold gust of night air before slamming shut behind him.

The room fell silent for a moment. Then, Mona stood, swaying slightly, and started after him.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea…” Kazuha murmured, but his words were drowned out by the sound of the door shutting once again.

“Did you guys know about all that?” Venti asked, turning to Aether.

“Since it’s out in the open, yeah,” Aether sighed.

“We need to stop giving her drinks,” Lumine muttered under her breath.

“I’m kind of worried about Mona going after him,” Childe said, rising from his seat to peer out the window. “Knowing Scara, he might drown himself… or her.”

“I’ll go be a witness to the murder then,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. Childe gave you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as you made your way out the door.

You didn’t know why you felt the sudden urge to follow him. It had always been about trying to surpass him before. But tonight…tonight you just wanted to catch up to him. To be equals.

SCARA’S POINT OF VIEW

The bench is cold beneath him and the sea breeze is a sharp slap against his face as he stares out at the crashing waves. It’s quiet but it does little to distract him from the turmoil in his chest. His fingers curl around the cigarette, the thin paper already loose from where he pocketed it earlier. He twirls it between his fingers absently, trying to focus on the motions instead of his thoughts.

The urge to light it is almost unbearable. He can almost feel the familiar ache, the way the smoke would crawl its way down his lungs and quiet everything inside him. It would help him forget. At least for a little while. 

But he promised he wouldn’t. 

Your words echo in his head like a soft, repeated prayer, something that clings to him even when he’s alone. He knows if he takes that drag, it’s one more step back from everything he's trying to hold onto. One more thing he’ll have to explain to you, and he can’t stomach that right now.

So instead, he flicks the cigarette into the sand, watching it settle there like a tiny, forgotten thing, and then turns his gaze back to the sea. His breath hitches in his chest. If it isn’t the lack of nicotine that’s bothering him, it’s something else. Something sharper, older.

Something that happened more than a year ago. 

Mona’s slurred words made the memory hit him with the force of a slap. It wasn’t her betrayal that stung, not really. He knew the two of them were never that serious. But it was the fact that she had chosen his mother over him. The fact that his own mother had paid her off like it was nothing. 

Mona had once been sweet back when they first met. Her determination to be an idol had reminded him of you in a way. Maybe he was just searching for a piece of you in anyone he could find. 

“Scara?”

He doesn’t have to turn to know it’s her. He can smell the alcohol before he hears the soft, slurred voice, and when he finally looks up, there she is, weaving on unsteady feet, her hair tangled around her shoulders, eyes glazed.

She’s drunk.

God, what a fucking mess.

“I—uh—can I sit?” She hiccups, and despite himself, he shifts slightly to make room on the bench, the muscles in his back tense, coiled, but his body obeys the unspoken politeness he’d long been taught.

Mona doesn’t wait for a response. She just slumps beside him, her hands gripping her knees like she’s trying to hold herself together.

“I didn’t mean it,” she says after a long silence, the words coming out in a rush, broken by more hiccups. “I didn’t mean to say it to everyone. I swear, I didn’t. I was just—I was just trying to make you… jealous, or something.”

Scara doesn’t say anything. He can already feel his patience wearing thin, his hand tightening into a fist. He knows where this is going.

“You know how I get when I drink,” she continues, her voice small, vulnerable in a way that makes his gut twist. She leans into him, her breath warm and sour with alcohol. “I was just trying to get a rise out of you. I thought... maybe it’d make you care more. Maybe it’d make you feel something for once, you know?”

He stares ahead, trying to focus on the horizon, trying to avoid the heat of her body next to his, the smell of liquor clinging to her like a second skin. She’s slurring more now, and with every word, the tension in his chest grows heavier, pressing down until he’s almost suffocating.

He can feel her swaying beside him, her body suddenly lurching forward as she clutches her stomach. He reaches out instinctively, used to her being like this, his hand awkwardly rubbing her back just to keep her from falling over. She feels so fragile in his touch, but that fragility doesn’t excuse the way she’s always tried to pull him back into her drama.

She leans in, too close again, her words spilling out in a rush like she's been holding them back for too long.

“You know...” she starts, her eyes dark and unfocused. “I only started acting out because you wouldn’t pay me any attention anymore. You were always complaining about YN. Always.”

She lets out a short, frustrated laugh, and then hiccups, her face flushing. “I know it wasn’t love, Scara. I’m not stupid. It was just a stupid distraction wasn’t it, from whatever you felt for them.”

He looks over at her, eyebrows furrowed.

“Even if you didn’t realize it back then, I did. Even if all we had was physical you can’t deny it worked. We were good at that. So yeah, I got a little carried away. But if you hadn’t been so busy chasing them around, maybe we wouldn’t be here right now.”

He can’t even find it in himself to deny it. After he had started dating her you’d started avoiding him for one reason or another. Maybe you thought everyone would get the wrong idea.

But it killed him. 

“That doesn’t mean you can just run off and take the first offer my mom gives to you,” he snaps, his tone cutting. “If you really didn’t like the way I treated you that badly, you could’ve left. You could’ve walked away. No one was holding you here.”

He shakes his head, frustrated they were having this talk now of all time, “But you didn’t, did you? You stayed. Because you knew being with me—even if it wasn’t love—would give you the eyes on you that you wanted so damn badly.”

“You’re right,” she admits, the words coming out quietly. “ But I didn’t know what else to do. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t care.”

Scara scoffs at that. 

“It didn’t look like it. All I saw was someone who was more interested in being the center of attention than me,” He shakes his head, turning his back to her for a moment. Honestly, he could keep going. But they were only having this conversation because she was drunk. There was no point, he was over it. 

He exhales sharply, his tone flat when he speaks again, as if he’s just given up.

"Yeah, okay," Scara mutters, voice distant. "It's fine. It’s not like you’ll even remember this tomorrow, anyway.”

It’s the only thing he says, just to make the whole thing stop. He knows she’s looking for something else. An apology, maybe, or some kind of validation. But he’s too fucking tired to give her that now. And it’s not like he’s going to receive one.

"Really?" Her voice rises in a way that makes him want to shove her away. "You're fine with it?"

He doesn’t respond, though now he’s just waiting for her to puke all over him. The sound of the ocean lapping against the shore is the only thing filling the silence, until she’s leaning in closer, her breath hot on his ear, her face too close.

“You know,” she whispers, her words slurred and soft, “I wouldn't mind going back to what we had. Just for a night.”

Before he can stop her, she’s pressing her lips to his, soft and insistent, her body leaning into his as though this is what she’s been waiting for all along. Her mouth is warm, her hands finding their way to his chest, and for a moment, Scara’s heart stops. 

Not because he wants it, but because he doesn’t.

He’s frozen, a quiet alarm ringing in his head. This isn’t real. This isn’t what he wants. Not from her. 

Even if it was only for a few seconds, the moment stretches too long until he can finally pry her away from him. And when he does finally pull back, his hand is shaking. 

“Don’t do that,” he says, voice tight with something: frustration, anger, confusion, maybe a little bit of pain. “Don’t try to fix this with... that.”

She blinks at him, confused, the haze of alcohol still clouding her eyes. "But... but I thought... we could—"

He stands up abruptly, cutting her off before she can make this worse. "Just... don't." The words hang in the air, heavy with finality.

She looks rather pitiful sitting on the bench like that, and he almost feels bad. Almost.

“You should just go,” he says, his voice flat, the exhaustion finally catching up to him.

But then, as he turns to leave, he sees you.

In the distance, walking towards the kitchens, your figure framed by the fading light. Seeing you makes something inside him twist. He starts to wonder why you’d come out soon after he stormed off. The idea of you coming back, walking over to him like you actually care. Just that thought is enough to loosen the tight knot in his chest. He didn’t even realize how much he was holding his breath, waiting for it. For a moment, he lets himself imagine you doing it. He almost expects it, but the longer he stands there, the more he realizes it’s just a fantasy. He watches you for a moment, then his stomach drops when he realizes if you were out there you must’ve walked by him. 

You had seen the kiss.

YOUR POINT OF VIEW

Your feet moved before your brain had a chance to tell you no. It was a strange instinct, one you didn’t quite understand. You’d never been one to comfort Scara. You’d been at odds with him for as long as you could remember, enemies in every sense of the word. 

But after what you’d learned about his mother just the thought of him being alone, struggling with it, gnawed at you. You wanted to check on him. You needed to check on him. 

The island was massive, and Scara wasn’t exactly known for his athleticism, so you figured it wouldn’t be too hard to find him. Still, your mind raced as you walked, trying to come up with something, anything, that would make him feel even a fraction better. What could you say to him that wouldn’t sound patronizing, or worse, awkward? You weren’t even sure you could help him, but you had to try.

And then, there it was.

The beach. The bench. The figure slumped against it. Scara. The cigarette in his hand. You’d found him.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you tried to steady yourself. This wasn’t a time to lose control. But before you could take another step, your eyes caught the familiar outline of someone else. Mona. She was walking toward him, wobbling a little as she approached, and suddenly the moment felt off.

You stopped in your tracks, half hidden by a few tall bushes nearby, your body suddenly rooted in place. You should’ve turned around and gone back to the party. Scara was clearly occupied. He would be okay, right?

But no. Your eyes stayed locked on the two of them. You couldn’t tear your gaze away.

Mona was standing next to him now, her chest heaving slightly from hiccups, and her words were slurred as she spoke. Scara wasn’t saying much, but his hand moved, almost instinctively, it seemed, to rub her back, slow and careful. As if he was...comforting her. You felt your pulse quicken, a strange sense of something building up in your chest, something like a heavy weight pressing down on your ribs.

A normal person would’ve walked away, turned around and walked back to the party, chalking it up to nothing more than two people talking, nothing more than Scara being himself. But you were never normal when it came to Scara. So instead, you stayed rooted in the shadow, just watching like some creep. The words you had rehearsed in your head seemed meaningless now, overshadowed by the confusion swelling inside you. What was happening?

And then, without warning, you saw it.

Mona leaned in, her lips pressing against Scara’s.

The world tilted on its axis. You didn’t even know how to react at first. A cold knot of jealousy, something sharp and unexpected, wrapped around your chest, and you felt like the air had been sucked out of your lungs. 

Scara, someone you’d considered your mortal enemy, the person you had spent years fighting against, was kissing Mona. She wasn’t even trying to hide it, her hands clinging to his chest. Just the sight was enough to leave you standing there, paralyzed. 

You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t care.

It was a mantra you were repeating in your head. But the jealousy gnawed at you in a way you didn’t understand, the sting in your chest a sharp reminder that maybe you cared a lot more than you’d ever let on. You’d always been jealous of Scara throughout the years, that feeling was something familiar. But this was something different. Your stomach is twisting with something you couldn’t name. Something that hurt to acknowledge.

Oh.

Oh.

Without even thinking, you turned away, stepping back into the shadows, your feet felt heavy beneath you. You had no idea what you were feeling anymore. Or you did, but you couldn’t even voice it. 

Scara was kissing Mona. Your Scara. Your Kuni. And you were standing there, like a fool. 

If you had run after him a bit faster would you be the one he’d be kissing? That wasn’t the problem, though. No. The thing that bothered you the most was the way it made you feel like an outsider. The way it reminded you, in an almost painful way, that you weren’t the one he turned to for comfort. 

That was how it had always been. Always. It shouldn’t have mattered.

But it did.

You didn’t know when it happened. Maybe it was the way he looked at you when he was angry, or the way he tried to hide his vulnerabilities. Maybe it was the constant back-and-forth, the challenge. Maybe it was the fact that he was always there, whether it be to hit you with a snarky remark or laugh at you when you fell second to him again. He’d always been there.

But you cared. And that made you want to punch something, or scream, or both. You’d never imagined a day when you would care about Scara in any way other than annoyance, or the irritation of seeing him always one step ahead. 

Suddenly, your feet moved as fast as they could to get you out of there.

The walk from the beach to the kitchens feels like it takes longer than it should. The adrenaline from earlier is wearing off. 

You step into the kitchens, the cool air inside a sharp contrast to the warmth of the night outside. The lights are low, casting shadows over the countertops, still littered from the dishes from earlier. A clink of glass catches your attention first, and then a familiar voice. 

“You finally made it in here.”

You stop, looking up until your eyes land on Heizou. His casual smile is the same one he always had, though there's something softer in it tonight, like he’s been waiting. He’s got a glass of water in his hand, and you realize he must’ve been looking for you. He’s the last person you want to see right now, but he doesn’t seem surprised by your presence.

“You didn’t go back to the party,” he continues, setting the glass down on the counter. “I figured you might be hiding in here. You don’t look like you’re in the mood for another drink.”

You’re about to reply, but he catches you off guard by speaking up.

“Are you okay?” 

You pause. It’s a simple question, but for some reason, it feels heavy. Before you even know what’s happening, the words just spill out.

“No, I’m not okay,” you start, your voice a little more brittle than you intended. 

“I just... I just watched him. Scara. I saw him with Mona. It’s like everything I’ve been trying to avoid came crashing down in front of me. I don’t even know what to feel. It’s just... why is everything so complicated? Why does he have to make things so complicated?”

Heizou doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t look at you like you’re insane for spilling everything. He just watches, his calm expression making the chaos in your head even more prominent.

“Is that really what’s bothering you?” he asks softly, the faintest hint of concern in his eyes.

You blink, realizing that you’ve been ranting and completely unaware of how you’ve been projecting everything onto him. Heizou seems to sense it too, because next thing you know, he’s stepping closer, his presence warm and steady as he leans a little into the counter beside you.

“Hey,” he says, his tone gentle. “Come on. You need to relax.”

Before you can protest, Heizou wraps a reassuring arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. He places a hand lightly on your head, urging you to lean into him. You hesitate for a moment before giving in, resting your cheek against his shoulder. His body is a familiar comfort, though you didn’t expect it to be this comforting tonight. In the quiet of the kitchen, you realize how exhausted you are. 

“You know,” Heizou says, his voice quiet but teasing, “I have no chance now, do I?”

You blink, not fully processing his words. “Huh?”

Heizou laughs softly, caressing his hand over your cheek, “Still as oblivious as ever, huh?”

You feel your brow furrow. “What are you talking about?”

Heizou’s fingers brush through your hair gently, like he’s trying to sort through his own thoughts. “It’s him, right?”

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, your heart beating a little faster. “What? No. I—”

But before you can finish, Heizou cuts you off, a playful glint in his eyes. “You know, I saw you two kiss on the show. The hot tub.” He pauses, studying your face for any shift. “It was... something, wasn’t it?”

You feel your stomach tighten, the thought of the kiss now a distant, uncomfortable memory. “You know that was fake, right?” you say quickly, trying to downplay it. “It didn’t mean anything. It was just part of the show.”

Heizou’s eyes stay locked on yours for a long moment, and there’s a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. He nods slowly, but there’s a slight edge to his tone. “Yeah, I get it. But it was your first kiss, right? It had to have meant something. At least to you.”

You swallow, the words suddenly feeling sharp. Your chest tightens, and you know you have to say something. You didn’t want to hurt Heizou’s feelings after he came all the way out here. 

“No. It didn’t,” you say, your voice firm but tinged with something that feels more like a lie than you want to admit. “It was all fake. The kiss...everything. It didn’t mean anything.”

You don’t notice at first, but Heizou’s smile falters just the tiniest bit. “Yeah. Sure,” he says, his voice warmer now, almost wistful. 

He doesn’t say anything else, but the silence between you both stretches out, heavy with unspoken understanding. You feel a little stupid for saying so much, for trying to convince him, or even yourself, that it was all nothing. You knew it was far from nothing.

Heizou finally breaks the tension, grabbing the water bottles he came in for. “Yeah, sure. Well, I guess I should get back to the others and sober them up. But... good luck, okay? With everything. With…him.”

You stand there, watching him leave, suddenly realizing you’ve just unloaded more than you intended. But before he walks out the door, Heizou looks back, giving you one last knowing look, then disappears back into the hallway.

You’re still standing there when you hear a soft voice outside the kitchen door.

“Interesting.”

You freeze. Your heart skips a beat.

You turn slowly, your breath catching in your throat when you see Scara standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, like he’s been listening the entire time.

For a second, all you can do is stare at him. And then it hits you, the way Heizou’s words must’ve sounded to him. The way you had tried to downplay the kiss. The way you’d tried to convince Heizou that it meant nothing.

Scara raises an eyebrow, looking almost amused, but his eyes were glazed over with something else. “Didn’t mean anything, huh?”

The words stick in your throat, and before you can even try to explain, the hurt in his eyes is enough to make you realize he’s probably already misunderstood.

SCARA’S POINT OF VIEW

Scara barely registered the words Mona was slurring anymore, his thoughts still tangled in knots from everything that had just happened. The sour taste of her lips still lingered. That wasn’t what bothered him. What bothered him was the thought of you seeing him like that. Seeing him with Mona.

He had to get out of there. Fast.

His mind raced as he stormed off, barely even registering where his feet were taking him. His body moved on autopilot, following after you towards the kitchens.

When he reached the door, he paused for a moment, chest tight with a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. There was a soft clinking sound from inside. The low hum of voices.

And then he heard it.

Heizou. Of course. Scara narrowed his eyes, already annoyed. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with him.

The door was slightly ajar, and without even thinking, Scara found himself inching closer, the need to know what was going on outweighing the nagging voice in his head telling him to turn around. To leave.

What he saw made his stomach churn in a way he hadn’t expected.

You were standing there, your face softer than he’d ever seen it, as Heizou pulled you into his side. The way your body melted into him like it was second nature to be close to him was unsettling, like something sharp had just slid under his skin.

For a second, Scara froze. His thoughts were clouded with the absurdity of it. You with Heizou? Who didn’t know you like he did? Absurd.

It wasn’t like you owed him an explanation. Yet the sight of you resting against him, affectionate, something Scara hadn’t seen you do with him made him... unseen. Like he didn’t belong in your life at all. The knot in his chest pulled tighter.

His breath caught, and before he could do something stupid he stopped himself. What was he even supposed to say? He wasn’t entitled to anything from you. He wasn’t yours. 

So he stayed outside, watching. Listening. 

He could hear Heizou’s voice, low and teasing, and then yours, soft but firm.

“No. It didn’t,” you said, your voice cutting through the quiet kitchen, and Scara’s chest clenched painfully. “You know that was all fake, right? It didn’t mean anything. It was just part of the show.”

His heart skipped a beat, the words slicing through the silence like a blade. His stomach churned, and the weight of them hit him harder than any punch. 

It wasn’t supposed to matter. It shouldn’t matter.

But it did.

Scara’s fingers dug into the frame of the door, his knuckles white. The words rang in his ears, repeating over and over. He tried to steady himself, tried to remind himself that it was all a game. The hot tub wasn’t supposed to mean anything to him, until it did. 

But hearing you say it, hearing you so casually dismiss the kiss, made him feel like he was choking on something sharp and heavy. It was all fake. He had no right to feel that way.

The worst part was, he didn’t even know what to do with it. With you.

You’d both made it clear from the start that this wasn’t supposed to be anything. A show, a performance. The kiss was meaningless. Just another part of the script. He didn’t expect anything different. But hearing you say it so coldly and without any hesitation made something in him snap. 

Before he could take a step back, Heizou’s voice drifted through the door again, a quiet laugh in his tone. “Yeah, sure.”

Scara could practically hear the smirk in his voice. 

“Yeah, I get it. But it was your first kiss, right? It had to have meant something. At least to you.” The burgundy haired nuisance continued. 

Scara's breath hitched, his chest tightening even further as he leaned in closer to the door, his pulse quickening. He felt an uncontrollable wave of frustration crashing through him. He could feel the words hitting him, one after the other, like Heizou’s voice was a punch to the gut. But worse was the feeling that came with it. The one that told him Heizou was right. That it had meant something. That he had somehow allowed himself to believe that the kiss between you and him had meant something beyond a simple game. He hadn’t realized how stupid you were making him. 

But then your voice came through, clear and harsh, “It was all fake. The kiss...everything. It didn’t mean anything.”

Scara’s fingers trembled at the doorframe. The knot in his chest was tightening, twisting around his lungs. You were denying it. Denying him. The kiss, the heat, the rush of it. You were dismissing it like it had been nothing more than a convenient illusion. You weren’t wrong, the rational part of him knew that. That didn’t mean he had hoped you’d thought otherwise. 

Everything he had been fighting so hard to bury flared back to life, hotter than before.

Heizou chuckled, a lighthearted sound, but it only made Scara feel more exposed. “Yeah, sure.” Heizou’s voice grew quieter, and Scara heard him getting ready to leave. “Well, I guess I should get back to the others and sober them up. But... good luck, okay? With everything. With…him.”

The kitchen door creaked as it swung open, and Heizou left without a second glance, his footsteps fading down the hall.

He was about to turn and leave, he had too. But just as always with you, he couldn’t help but fight back. 

“Interesting.”

You stood there in the doorway, looking caught between embarrassment and something else, your face pale, your eyes flicking nervously between the open door and him.

Scara stared at you for a long moment, his throat tight, before he spoke, his voice low and strained.

“Didn’t mean anything, huh?”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

YOUR POINT OF VIEW

Scara lets out a dry chuckle, sharp and almost bitter, before walking off. Your heart is still racing, adrenaline surging through you. The confusion is all still a blur.

And yet you follow him. 

Something you’d never do, especially with him. But a part of you still wants to make sure he’s okay. And a bigger part of you doesn’t want him to walk away with the wrong idea. 

“Why’d you follow me here?” you ask, your voice louder than you intended, still thick with that adrenaline.

He stops abruptly and turns around, eyes dark, but there’s something else there, too: vulnerability. 

“Why did you follow me?” he shoots back, his voice low, taunting almost, but you can hear the frustration beneath it.

You stand there for a moment, trying to find the right words, but your thoughts feel tangled. “I just... wanted to see if you were okay,” you say, quieter now, your shoulders sagging. “I know your mom sucks, but...it seems like you were occupied.” You didn’t mean it to come off as bitter as it did.

Scara freezes for a split second, his gaze narrowing into something hard. “She’s the one who came onto me, okay?” His voice is biting, “I shoved her right off. And you can’t say shit, you were all over him back there.”

For a second, you can’t say anything. You feel a hot flush rise to your face. You take a breath, and then the words spill out, almost before you can stop them. “That didn’t even mean anything,” you mutter. “He was just... comforting me. I said that so he wouldn’t feel bad.” You don’t want to explain why. You’re glad he wasn’t there for the entire conversation.

Scara’s eyes flicker with something sharp. “Fine,” he spits out, hands gesturing in exasperation. “It’s all fake, then. Fine! It doesn’t matter. Whatever, you don’t need to explain yourself.”

You feel the words sting, and before you can even think, you’re snapping back. “Fine! Fine, Scara. If that’s what you want to believe, go ahead.”

You both stand there for a few seconds, glaring at each other, neither of you willing to back down. And then, just like that, you both start walking in the same direction.

You glance at him, a little incredulous. “You go first.”

Scara doesn’t even look at you. “No, you go first.”

“I said it first!” you protest, taking a step forward.

“No, you go.”

A beat of silence. Then, in unison, both of you groan.

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath. “This is stupid.”

Neither of you says anything else, but you both start walking again. Side by side, but without speaking. The tension between you hasn’t fully dissipated, but now it’s more muted, like you’re both too tired to keep fighting.

By the time you reach the door to the dorms, the adrenaline has started to drain away, leaving only the residual ache of whatever you two just went through. You both stop at the doorstep, standing for a moment in the cool night air.

Scara's eyes drift lazily over to a bottle resting on the corner of the porch, a forgotten drink from earlier in the evening. Without a word, he picks it up, twists off the cap, and offers it to you, his face impassive.

“Want some?” His voice is quieter now, a little less sharp, though the remnants of the earlier tension still hang in the air.

You take it without thinking, your hand brushing his as you grab the bottle. Your throat feels dry, like you’ve just run a marathon, like everything from tonight has left you parched. He’s always left you out of breath.

You take a long sip, the alcohol burning down your throat, and pass it back. Scara drinks, then hands it back to you with a quiet gesture. You both settle onto the steps, the weight of the night pressing down around you, but the silence feels somehow comfortable now.

You’re not sure why, but with each sip, you feel a little less tense, a little less angry. It’s still there, but it's somehow quieter now. Maybe because it doesn’t feel like you need to have all the answers, not right now. Not with him sitting next to you like this.

For a while, neither of you speaks. The only sound is the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore and the occasional sip from the bottle between you. You pass it back and forth like it’s the easiest thing in the world. The weight of the argument is still there, sure, but somehow it doesn’t matter so much anymore.

SCARA’S POINT OF VIEW

The quiet hum of the night surrounds you both as you sit on the porch, the sounds of crickets and the occasional hum of the waves filling the spaces between breaths. The bottle you’re passing back and forth feels less heavy now, unlike the unspoken things still floating around like ghosts between you and him.

You break the silence first, your voice quieter than you intended. “So, what were you and Mona talking about?”

He doesn’t answer right away, taking a slow swig from the bottle, his eyes fixed somewhere off in the distance. His lips press together in a tight line, but he finally turns to you, his expression unreadable. “Well, she was talking at me, really. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. She was asking if I was ever in love with her…”

You raise an eyebrow, curious, “Well, were you?”

Scara’s gaze shifts. His body is tense. He doesn’t meet your eyes immediately, instead looking off to the side, like he’s searching for something. 

He feels the precipice you're both on. 

He wants to jump. 

“No.”

The word hangs there, and for a moment, everything is still. He can feel the air between you both shift, like the ground beneath your guys’ feet has tilted slightly.

“Really?” you ask, more quietly this time. “How did you know you weren’t in love with her?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He shifts on the step, his foot tapping idly against the wood. He wants to say he just knew, as cliche as that sounds. His eyes are fixed forward now, knowing if he looks at you his words won’t leave his mouth. He takes a swig.

The words come out slowly, like he’s still figuring them out as he speaks.

“I don’t know... I just knew, I guess.” He hesitates, then adds, “What I felt for her is different from what I know love is.”

The silence stretches, and he feels like you’re standing at the edge of something with him. 

He’s waiting. He thinks he’s always been waiting for you.

“And you… know what that feels like?” you ask, voice softer now, almost hesitant, like you’re testing the waters.

His eyes finally rake over you.

“I do now.”

You opened your mouth, and he’s hoping something, anything, comes out of it. He felt like he’d just sliced his chest open and was bearing his heart to you with bloodied hands.

His words hang in the air for a long moment, strange and heavy. Your gaze catches his, and for just a second, there’s a flicker in your eyes, something guarded but knowing. Scara holds your gaze, and for a fleeting moment, it’s like everything in him stills. The air is thick, as if the words you’ve both danced around are hanging just out of reach. His fingers tighten around the neck of the bottle, the cool glass a stark contrast to the heat creeping up his neck.

He knows this feeling all too well. The way his chest tightens when he realizes something he’s been waiting for will never come. His mother’s attention. You. It’s a feeling he’s all but accustomed too. But there you were, just out of his reach. He doesn’t expect you to understand. Hell, he doesn’t even understand himself half the time. But in that moment, sitting next to you, he wants you too. 

The weight of your unspoken words presses on him. But maybe that’s all this will ever be, a weight. The knowledge that he’ll never feel the same way about anyone else and that you’ll never feel the same about him. That thought stabs at him like a shard of ice in his chest, cold and sharp. He wants to say something, but the words aren’t there. Not yet. Not ever, maybe. 

“We should go inside,” he murmurs, breaking the silence, his voice almost a whisper against the night’s stillness. 

His voice drops further, and he shifts slightly on the step, his leg brushing against yours. It’s an unconscious motion, but it feels deliberate somehow. Like he wants to be closer but knows better than to ask for it. 

“Yeah,” you pipe up from beside him, “We should.”

Yet you both sit there for a few more minutes, passing the bottle until nothing is left in its wake. He doesn’t look over at you again, doesn’t dare too. Instead he gets up and goes inside, leaving you behind. 

Something you’ve always said he’s good at.

[00:00:00] POST PARADISE DATE TAKE ONE

YAE: So, do you want to talk about today?

SCARAMOUCHE: Talk about what?

YAE: The kiss, obviously. What else would we talk about?

SCARAMOUCHE: What happened to "Hi, how are you?"

YAE: [LAUGHING] This is a safe space.

SCARAMOUCHE: It absolutely is not, but you want to talk about the kiss? Fine. It wasn't real. I didn't even kiss her back, she was drunk and I don't love her. And I'm not that much of an asshole to take advantage of someone drunk. I'm a terrible person, but not that bad.

YAE: [SPEECHLESS]

SCARAMOUCHE: This is fucking stupid. Why did l even have to explain myself? I have nothing to prove to anybody. [GETS UP]

YAE: Scaramouche, wait—

SCARAMOUCHE: [WALKS OFF SCREEN]

stuck with you!

materlist — prev | next

(typos) *slide 6: feelings wheel / *slide 8: i just had this realization

first update of the year wow!

sorry guys i’m scared to do the keep reading button so…😛

after typing oh. oh. i was like ooh bitch i ate

also ignore how scara lowk littered uhm he picked up his cig after dw! environmentally friendly king!

pls comment or send me an ask if u enjoyed i need motivation 🤗

comment on the MASTERLIST if i can use ur user as a fan in the au!

notes — four updates during break ur welcome! my break ends in two weeksish so idk if ill be able post another one before then so let me rest xx

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

taglist — (closed) @na1lea @cindywasneverhere @lunavixia @aestherin @mlaakai @camvrin @retiredmommylover @iheartpieck @cartierfiles @loveariel @silly-ez @mochipls @pomeiu @flowerypesky @creammpuff @boxdisappeared @kissingkzuha @webbywill @kazusboyfriend @s3xpistolss @bunns-wonderland @lordbugs @localgirlywithnolife @kosumos @danfelions @featuredtofu @pinxeajin @haeunoo @scaradooche @pglt19 @chemiru @childesbabygirl @simonisferal @shutingstar @ttalgi @esuz @tokkishouse @kitsuvil @scarasmood @ihearttori @nomurahayami @starringyau @androxphobic @reivelmin @animeobsessed56 @femaholicc @vi0let-writes @izayumi-chan @aloflapse

[jaysng]

when you have to go on bed rest — park sunghoon

frustrated and emotional reader, stuck on bed rest during pregnancy, opens up to caring husband, sunghoon. overwhelmed, she asks him to hold her, seeking solace in his embrace as he gently reassures her, reminding her of her strength. [wc. 1.4k]

PAIRING. husband!sunghoon x preg!wife!reader

GENRE. reader is feeling hurt, so angsty fluff

NOTE. this has been sitting in my drafts for about a month now and i’ve been contemplating whether to post it or not.. but here i am guess

you hated being on bed rest.

every minute of it felt like a punishment. you were used to being on your feet, handling things your way, but now you were confined to your room, relying on everyone else to do what you couldn’t. and while your logical mind understood that it was for the baby, the emotional weight of it all was suffocating.

you sat propped against the headboard, arms crossed, staring out the window like it had personally wronged you. the ache in your back had returned, your legs felt stiff, and your mood was steadily getting worse.

the sound of the door opening broke you out of your sulk. sunghoon stepped inside, holding a glass of water in one hand and a small plate of sliced fruit in the other.

“you didn’t eat much earlier,” he said, setting the plate on the bedside table.

“i wasn’t hungry,” you muttered, avoiding his eyes.

he frowned slightly but didn’t push. “you still need to eat something.”

you sighed, glancing at the plate but not making a move to pick it up. the simple act of eating felt exhausting, and your frustration only grew.

sunghoon lingered for a moment before sitting on the edge of the bed. he didn’t say anything, his gaze quietly observing you.

“what?” you snapped, sharper than you meant to.

he shook his head, unfazed. “you just seem upset.”

“of course i’m upset, hoon!” you burst out, throwing your hands up. “i’m stuck in this stupid bed all day. i can’t even get up to get my own water. my body hurts. my head hurts. and—” your voice wavered, “—and i feel so useless.”

his expression softened, but he didn’t interrupt. he just let you spill it all out.

“i can’t even…” you trailed off, your hands trembling as you clenched them into fists. “i don’t know. i feel horrible. and i don’t want to talk about it, but i can’t keep it in either. i just—”

you broke off, your throat tightening as tears threatened to spill.

sunghoon hesitated for a split second before shifting closer, his hand hovering like he wasn’t sure if you wanted to be touched.

“can you just… hold me?” you whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. “please?”

his eyes softened further, and without a word, he slipped his arm around your shoulders, gently guiding you against his chest.

the warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his breathing—it was grounding. you let out a shaky breath, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as the dam finally broke.

“i feel like such a mess,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against him.

“you’re not a mess,” he said quietly, his voice calm and certain. “you’re just overwhelmed. it’s okay.”

his hand moved slowly, rubbing soothing circles on your back. he didn’t try to fix anything or offer solutions—he just let you cry, let you feel.

“i don’t know how much more of this i can take,” you admitted, your voice cracking.

“you don’t have to take it alone,” he said simply. “i’m here.”

it was such a sunghoon thing to say—straightforward, without unnecessary embellishments. but somehow, that made it more comforting.

“i hate being like this,” you whispered. “so… weak.”

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his brow furrowed. “you’re not weak,” he said, his tone firmer now. “you’re growing a whole human inside you. that’s… incredible.”

you let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “doesn’t feel incredible.”

“doesn’t mean it’s not,” he countered, his fingers brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “and even if you feel like you’re falling apart, it’s okay. i’ll hold you together, for as long as you need.”

you looked at him, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his eyes.

“thank you,” you whispered, leaning into his touch.

he didn’t respond with words, just wrapped his arms around you again, holding you close like you were the most important thing in the world.

and for the first time that day, the frustration in your chest eased, just a little. enough to remind you that you weren’t alone in this.

© jaysng 2024 | do not repost or plagiarize.

[shdysders]

supposed to hate you

pairing: tara carpenter & female reader

summary: in which tara can’t stand you—or at least, that’s what she keeps telling herself as her feelings start to betray her.

word count: 4.2k

Tara hated you.

She always had, though she couldn't pinpoint exactly why. There was no big moment, no obvious reason, just an unshakable irritation that bubbled up whenever you were near.

It was the way you'd slide into a room like you owned it, or that casual grin you wore like it was a personal insult to her bad day.

And, God, did it get under her skin when you'd laugh too loudly, making yourself the center of attention without even trying.

It was as if everything you did was meant to grate on her, whether it was intentional or not.

Even the smallest things—like how you'd hum under your breath or that habit of fidgeting with anything in reach—felt like they were tailored to press every one of her buttons.

And you knew she hated you.

Somehow, Tara was sure you’d caught on long ago, because why else would you keep doing all those little things that drove her up the wall?

The smug smile whenever she entered the room, the way you’d throw playful jabs at her to get a rise out of her, or that habit of smirking at her determination as if it were a joke.

She could swear you were doing it all on purpose.

But somehow, despite all this, the two of you had ended up in the same friend group, circling each other with forced politeness for everyone else's sake. And for some reason, none of them understood the tension between you and Tara.

Yet the two of you never seemed to have a normal conversation; every exchange was a battleground of snarky comebacks and teasing remarks.

You had this way of throwing her little digs back at her, always one step ahead with some sly remark that kept the tension alive. It was like you'd both accepted that bickering was your default, each ready with a retort before the other had even finished talking.

What made it worse was that, for some reason, the rest of the group found your dynamic entertaining.

Mindy, especially, seemed convinced that Tara's irritation ran so deep because, deep down, the two of you were practically the same.

She'd even pointed out once that, with your stubbornness, quick wit, and constant arguments, you were basically Tara's double. But that idea only made Tara's anger simmer hotter.

The thought that anyone could see her in you was something she refused to accept, and it left her even more determined to despise you.

And it was no different now, as Tara sat in the middle of her English class, which was already dragging when the second bell rang.

Mrs. Jenkins was already droning on at the front of the room, her slow voice making it impossible to keep focused.

Mrs. Jenkins was the type of teacher whose voice could lull anyone to sleep within minutes—a slow, monotone drawl that somehow never wavered, no matter the subject.

She was a small, wiry woman with glasses perched precariously at the tip of her nose, always casting a critical gaze over the top of them as if searching for the next pair of students to corral into cooperation.

Tara usually found herself fighting to keep her eyes open, pinching her wrist to keep her focus whenever Mrs. Jenkins launched into another long-winded explanation.

Mrs. Jenkins was also notorious for her obsession with partner projects. For some reason, she'd decided that her students could never be trusted to work alone, and she always seemed to pair people up in the worst possible combinations.

Almost like she thought throwing everyone into random pairs would somehow force them into cooperation or something.

Tara was just settling in, halfway through mindlessly tapping her pen against her notebook, when you pushed open the door.

You strolled in, two minutes late, looking completely unfazed, like walking in after the bell was some kind of statement.

Just seeing you made her want to roll her eyes.

Her eyes drifted to the empty seats around the room, her stomach sinking as she realized the only free one left was right next to her. She clenched her jaw.

Of course that would happen.

Of course Anika had to stay home with the flu. And of course Tara couldn't help but blame nobody but Annika for her luck, not Mrs. Jenkins for not separating the seats.

You looked around, smirked when your gaze landed on her, and started making your way over. She braced herself, already annoyed as you dropped into the seat with a casual grin that somehow felt like it was just for her.

She shot you a look, voice low but sharp enough to make her irritation clear.

"Do you ever show up on time?"

You shot her a sideways grin, unfazed. "Wouldn't want you getting bored without me."

And there it was again—the familiar spark of irritation, mixed with something else she didn't care to admit.

She crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed.

"Trust me," she shot back, arching an eyebrow with a cool stare that could cut glass. "You're not that interesting." Her voice had that hard edge to it, her words clipped as if she hoped each one would hit its mark.

She felt a flicker of satisfaction at her retort, a sense of determination to get the last word in—just once.

But even as the words left her lips, she knew how this would end. She never got the last word with you; somehow, you always had a comeback ready, some sly remark that kept her on edge, just a half-step behind.

It was infuriating, knowing you'd already won this exchange before she'd even finished talking, and yet, she couldn't seem to stop herself from trying.

So of course, her comeback only made you chuckle softly. You tilted your head, still studying her with that amused glint in your eyes. "You seem to be paying me a lot of attention for someone who's supposedly not interested."

Tara clenched her jaw, already thinking up a response, but before she could say anything, Mrs. Jenkins cleared her throat at the front of the room, pulling everyone's attention.

She held a stack of papers, her voice filling the room as she announced, "Alright, everyone. Today, we're starting partner projects," she announced, eyeing the class as she held up a stack of papers.

"You'll be working in pairs, and since we're short a few people"—her gaze swept over to you and Tara.

And, of course, with Annika out and no one else nearby, it was clear who Tara's partner would be.

"The two of you can work together." She gestured loosely at the two of you with her whole hand, her glasses slipping to the tip of her nose as if she was sealing your fate herself.

Tara's stomach twisted. Just her luck.

Out of all the people in the class, she had to be stuck with you. She could already feel the annoyance creeping up, the certainty that this project would be anything but smooth.

Being around you always felt like walking a tightrope—every word, every look somehow irked her in a way she couldn't quite explain.

She let out a quiet sigh, bracing herself for the inevitable back-and-forth she knew would come with working together.

Mrs. Jenkins continued pairing the rest of the class, her voice droning on as she named off each group.

You seemed to watch each pairing, eyes following her hand as she pointed out partners as if every decision mattered. Of course you were paying attention to all of it, Tara thought, irritated. That was just like you.

Not that she cared who anyone else ended up with. Because right now, all her energy was spent swallowing down the frustration of being paired with you, knowing she was in for a long, drawn-out project full of the exact same tension you'd just exchanged.

Mrs. Jenkins, satisfied with her pairings, stepped back up to the front of the class. She cleared her throat, waiting for the murmur of voices to die down, before adjusting her glasses and lifting the stack of papers in her hand.

She started explaining the assignment, something about analyzing a passage from a novel they'd been studying, breaking it down in pairs to present next week.

Tara tried to focus on the instructions, but she was painfully aware of your presence beside her, the faint tapping of your pen on the desk as you listened with that half-smile still lingering on your face.

She could feel you glancing her way, as if you knew how much this was getting under her skin, and it only made her determination to prove you wrong even stronger.

Once Mrs. Jenkins finished talking and handed out the assignment sheets, she walked around, checking in with pairs as they began discussing the project.

Tara looked over at you, already preparing herself for the inevitable back-and-forth she knew was coming, her expression set.

"Do you even remember what novel we're supposed to be working with?" she asked, her voice edged with irritation.

You leaned back in your chair, folding your arms with that familiar look of feigned concentration. "Oh, yeah. The Great Gatsby, right?"

She stared at you, her fingers tightening around the edge of her notebook. Just when she thought you couldn't be more infuriating, here you were, throwing out the wrong title like it was nothing.

How could anyone be this clueless?

But before she could bite back, you let out a soft, breathy laugh, that glint of amusement flashing in your eyes. "Relax, I'm kidding. It's Wuthering Heights."

Her jaw clenched, annoyance sharpening into something colder as she shook her head. "Right," she muttered, her tone dry. "Because it would kill you to just answer like a normal person."

You tapped your fingers idly on the desk, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. "Alright, so how are we splitting this? Or should I just sit here while you write the entire thing and glare at me for breathing too loud?"

Tara shot you a look, eyes narrowing. "Oh, don't worry, I'm sure I'll be doing all the work anyway," she snapped, unable to keep the edge out of her voice.

Your smirk widened as you put your hands up in mock surrender, leaning back in your chair. "Well, if you're insisting on it, I really can't stop you."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, words caught in her throat as she considered snapping back.

But before she could come up with something biting enough, you tilted your head, dropping the playful tone just slightly. "So, realistically, whose place are we doing this at?"

The question made Tara's irritation deepen into something heavier. The idea of having to work on this project outside of class with you felt exhausting.

But you both knew very well that Mrs. Jenkins' lessons were always cut short by the schedule, leaving too little time to actually make progress in class.

Tara already dreaded the awkwardness and frustration of dealing with you here; the thought of it extending into her free time was worse.

Bringing you to her house was out of the question. Sam would almost definitely be home, and knowing Sam, she'd make a point of chatting with you. It was infuriating that Sam didn't seem to share her distaste for you.

But going to your house? Tara's mind reeled for a logical excuse—something about it felt even less appealing.

Without looking up from her notebook as she jotted down a few notes to avoid meeting your eyes, she muttered, "I was thinking the library, if you've ever set foot in one of those."

You chuckled softly, that amused glint back in your eyes. "I didn't know you cared about my literacy so much. But sure, the library works."

You paused for a moment, leaning a bit closer. "You free after school, or is that the time you reserve for taking that stick out of your ass?"

Tara's jaw clenched, eyes snapping up to meet yours, her pencil threatening to snap under the pressure of her grip. You'd agreed, sure, but you'd managed to infuriate her all the same.

"After school's fine," she said flatly, before turning her attention pointedly back to her notes, wishing the bell would ring already.

Fortunately for Tara, it did, just minutes later, the sharp clang cutting through the tension that had coiled around her like a vice.

It seemed to be the only stroke of luck she could count on for the week, at least.

As soon as the sound echoed through the room, Tara was up, shoving her notebook into her bag with quick, agitated movements. She didn't waste a second, her movements brisk as she ignored your casual, "See you later," tossed her way.

Without waiting for anyone or pausing to catch her breath, she pushed her way through the bustling hallway, weaving between groups of students and dodging backpacks that jutted out into her path.

The sooner she was away from you, the better.

When she reached a spot far away from everyone, she exhaled a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and yanked her phone out of her pocket, still walking. Her fingers flew over the screen as she typed:

guess who i'm stuck working with for the english project?

The response came almost immediately, as if Mindy had been waiting for some kind of drama to break out.

Spill.

Before Tara could type a response, her phone buzzed again with a string of messages from Mindy.

Bryan who always falls asleep in history?

Loud chewing Hannah?

Victor?!

Tara let out a breathy laugh despite herself, rolling her eyes at the rapid-fire guesses. Mindy's knack for dramatics never failed to pull her out of her own frustration, even if just for a moment.

She was about to tap out a reply when she spotted Mindy leaning against her locker, arms crossed and a curious look already on her face.

"Finally," Mindy said as if she hasn't been waiting for no longer than two minutes, pushing off the locker with a grin. "So, who's the lucky partner?"

Tara snapped her phone screen off and glanced over, still holding onto her irritation. "You won't believe it," she muttered, janking her own locker open with more force than necessary.

Mindy's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Oh! Don't tell me it's Brian from algebra—you know, the one who still counts on his fingers."

Tara's lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk, but she quickly suppressed it. "Worse."

Mindy leaned in, eyebrows raised. "Worse than Brian?" She tilted her head, rattling off another guess. "Please don't say it's Becca from gym class, the one who makes breathing into a competition."

Tara let out a humorless laugh. "No, but I'd take Becca over this."

Mindy's grin faltered as she studied Tara's expression. Realization dawned on her face, and she gasped dramatically. "Wait, no. Y/N?"

Tara's silence was answer enough.

Mindy's mouth dropped open before she broke into a chuckle. "What, did Mrs. Jenkins draw names out of a hat and decide to create chaos?"

Tara groaned, closing her eyes for a second. "Feels like it."

Mindy nudged her shoulder playfully. "Hey, maybe this is your chance to finally work out whatever weird tension is between you two."

Tara's glare was sharp enough to cut through steel. "Don't. Even."

Mindy laughed, raising her hands in surrender but couldn't help adding, "Come on, Tara. It's like fate's way of telling you to loosen up. Maybe you need a challenge."

Tara shook her head, slamming her locker shut and pushing past Mindy, muttering, "The last thing I need is Y/N's smug face outside of class."

Mindy's voice followed her as she walked away. "Or maybe it's exactly what you need!"

"No," Tara muttered, shoving a stray book into her bag with unnecessary force. "And I don't want to."

Mindy leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. "This is your chance. Come on, Tara, look at you—you need to ease up. You need a good—"

"Stop," Tara interrupted, the flush on her cheeks deepening as she scowled. "Don't even go there."

Mindy's grin only widened, unfazed by Tara's glare. "A good fuck," she finished, drawing out the words with a teasing lilt.

Tara's eyes widened in shock, the blush on her cheeks turning a deeper shade of crimson. "Mindy!" she hissed, glancing around to make sure no one else had overheard. The hallway was busy, students rushing to their next classes, but Tara still felt exposed.

The comment sent a wave of nausea through her as well. "Are you out of your mind? That's not even funny," she shot back, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment and anger.

Mindy just laughed, the sound light and carefree. "What? I'm just saying what everyone's thinking," she said with a casual shrug. "You've been wound up tighter than a drum, and now you're paired up with the one person who gets under your skin the most. Tell me that isn't some cosmic joke."

Tara rolled her eyes, shifting her bag higher on her shoulder. "It's not a joke. It's a nightmare," she muttered, but her voice lacked its usual bite.

Mindy reached out, stopping Tara just before she could turn away. "Hey, just... think about it," she said, her tone softening for a moment. "Maybe it won't be as bad as you're expecting."

Tara pulled her arm away, shaking her head as she started walking again. "It'll be worse," she whispered to herself, willing her heartbeat to slow down as she disappeared into the crowd.

___

It wasn’t worse.

Despite Tara's initial dread, working with you at the library hadn't been as unbearable as she'd anticipated.

Sure, there were moments where your casual confidence and the way you smirked at her when making a point still made her grit her teeth.

You'd tap your pen absentmindedly while explaining your ideas, a habit she found irritatingly distracting. And then there was the way you'd throw in a playful jab every now and then, your eyes glinting with amusement when she huffed in response.

But, to Tara's reluctant surprise, you were sharp, insightful even, when it came to analyzing.

The discussion had gone more smoothly than she'd expected, with ideas bouncing back and forth faster than she'd thought possible.

It struck her, in a fleeting moment she wasn't prepared for, that you weren't as infuriating now as you'd always seemed within the confines of the friend group.

You were still you, with your annoyingly self-assured manner and the smirk that made her want to roll her eyes, but it didn't seem so intolerable when it was just the two of you.

She had tried to shake off the thought, feeling a flicker of annoyance that she even had to acknowledge it.

But just as she had felt they were getting somewhere, her phone had buzzed in her pocket.

Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how she looked at it—Sam had been calling, the texts piling up with increasing urgency, wondering where Tara was and why she hadn't come home yet. Tara's stomach clenched as she skimmed through the messages, noting the slight panic in Sam's words.

Realizing she couldn't ignore it any longer, she had packed up her things, muttering that you'd have to finish another time.

You didn't seem bothered, giving her a nod and a quick, teasing smile that left her more annoyed than she cared to admit as she left the library.

When she had gotten home that night, sleep eluded her. She had tossed and turned, frustration simmering just beneath the surface as she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Thoughts of your discussions swirled in her mind, mingling with that annoying realization that you weren't as insufferable as she had always believed.

Over the following week, she had found herself paying more attention to you than she intended to. It wasn't like she had tried to; it just happened.

You were there, cracking jokes during lunch, your laugh ringing out louder than anyone else's, and Tara caught herself stealing glances when you were busy chatting with the rest of the group.

Even when you weren't around, she found herself thinking about you, which irked her more than she cared to admit.

It was infuriating how often you popped into her head, making her wonder what you would say in any given situation, or how you would tease her if you were there.

Tara gritted her teeth at the thought, refusing to admit how much it bothered her that she couldn't stop.

She hated that you had gotten under her skin, and she wasn't sure what it meant. All she knew was that it felt wrong to be so intrigued by you, and yet, here she was, wondering what you were doing, if you were thinking about her too.

It was confusing. Annoying, even. Tara hated the fact that she couldn't stop thinking about you lately.

But the more she tried to push the thoughts away, the more they seemed to cling to her. It wasn't just that you were smart-mouthed and quick-witted, though those things had always gotten under her skin.

No, it was something else—things she hadn't noticed before, or maybe things she had noticed but refused to acknowledge.

The way you smiled when you thought no one was looking.

Tara had started to notice that your smiles were different when you weren't throwing one of your usual smirks in her direction. When you smiled genuinely—like when you were talking to your friends or when you thought something was genuinely funny—it was softer, almost shy, and it made her stomach do this stupid little flip.

She hated that she even noticed it, but she couldn't help it. That smile wasn't something you gave to just anyone, and that realization made her heart race in a way she wasn't ready to confront.

And that damn smirk.

Tara couldn't get it out of her head.

There was something about it that drove her crazy, and not in the way she wanted to admit. It was infuriating how much she wanted to wipe it off your face—literally, and, to her horror, in ways she'd never imagined before.

She caught herself staring at your lips sometimes as well, wondering what it would be like to just lean in and kiss you, to catch you off guard and see that cocky expression falter.

The thought made her stomach churn with a mix of desire and disgust. What was wrong with her? Since when did she think about kissing you, of all people?

Why was this happening? Why couldn't she just hate you like she used to?

She'd always been good at handling her emotions, keeping them locked up tight where they couldn't hurt her.

But lately, whenever you were around, that control started to slip. It was like you'd found a way under her skin, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get you out.

She hated it. Hated how her heart raced whenever you smirked at her, how her stomach twisted with something that wasn't quite anger anymore.

She'd never felt this way before—this mix of anger and attraction that left her feeling off-balance, like she was constantly walking a tightrope. It was ridiculous, disgusting even, how much she let it affect her.

You were supposed to be her rival, her annoyance, the person she loved to hate. And yet, here she was, her thoughts consumed with you in ways that made her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

She was supposed to hate you, not fantasize about something so ridiculous. But the more she tried to push the thoughts away, the more they lingered, haunting her even when you weren't around.

It was like she was losing herself, becoming someone she didn't recognize. How could she be so weak, so pathetic, to let these feelings take over?

The thought of you seeing her like this, vulnerable and conflicted, made her sick to her stomach. You'd probably just laugh at her, throw some snarky remark her way that would make her feel even smaller than she already did.

She needed to get a grip. This was just some stupid, fleeting attraction, nothing more.

It had to be.

She refused to believe that she actually liked you, that she wanted something more than just the back-and-forth banter that had defined your relationship.

Because if she admitted that, if she acknowledged the truth, it would change everything.

And that scared her more than anything.

So she did what she always did—pushed those thoughts down, buried them deep where they couldn't hurt her.

She'd pretend that nothing was different, that she didn't feel her pulse quicken whenever you walked into the room, that she didn't think about your stupid smirk when she was alone at night.

It was easier that way. Safer.

But deep down, she knew she was just lying to herself. And as much as she hated it, those feelings weren't going away. They were only getting stronger, no matter how hard she fought against them. And that terrified her more than anything.

Because she was supposed to hate you.

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

OKAY OKAY HEAR ME OUT-

A oneshot where the rest of the hazbin crew finding out that Alastor already owned Reader's soul?! Fluff btw!

Like like

"Some overlord owns your soul?? Who?!"

Reader: "hahaha.. I wonder who.."

Husk: "you don't wanna know."

Alastor sipping his tea on the other side of the room (obviously listening in)

Alastor - [ HIDDEN HEARTSTRINGS ]

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx

[ SFW ] + [ FLUFF ] [ SLIGHT LANGUAGE WARNING ]

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx

The Hotel was abuzz with life; Charlie rushed around checking in with everyone as they worked on various tasks, and said occupants tried their best to focus amid her constant scurrying.

The Princess of Hell had decided a Grand Opening event would benefit the Hotel.

You didn’t think it was half a bad idea, recently a resident of the newly improved establishment yourself and a sinner with a rare knack for helping others. The promise of redemption did seem silly to you, but the idea was fresh, and you desired to see if it was possible before completely disregarding the Princess’s dream.

You gave a helping hand whenever asked, smiled as kind as ever, and had a genuine nature subtly, inviting the others closer into your friendly aura.

Angel referred to you often as the “sweetest doll in the shop,” poking fun at your generous endeavors, but truly a fan of your presence nonetheless. Vaggie came to you for advice often, needing a calmer voice of reason when Charlie’s overbearing tendencies became too much for her, and you’d give your time graciously. Husk and Niffty, you knew all too well before you arrived at the Hotel, generally comfortable in their company and able to enjoy a drink with them occasionally.

Everyone cherished you in one way or another, which showed significantly in their approach to you.

Angel, as vulgar as he was, tended not to tease you as often as the others. Though there were times he couldn’t resist a good jab at your modesty, amused by how quickly you blushed while attempting to stutter out an equally snarky remark.

The two of you were at it now, taunting one another while giving a once over of the hotel's new advertisement flyers, but your focus was nowhere near the polished posters as you tried to retort Angel's last statement. He’d made another comment about your avoidance of the hotel's resident facilities manager.

Alastor…

The mere sound of his name made you skittish and visibly flustered, and Angel took notice of said reactions very quickly. “You sleepin’ around with him, aren’t ya toots?…” He snickered as you froze up, ears fluttering down as your eyes widened in his direction, “N-no!? Angel…you shouldn’t say things like that!” You puffed your cheeks out, the tip of your ears turning bright red as the spider demon cackled across from you, “Hah! You aren’t denying it either, doll face, so now I know it’s true!..”

“No, it’s not Angel!…” you grumbled childishly, glancing around the room apprehensively as if the overload would emerge from the shadows at any moment, and he very well could…

However, Alastor remained hidden, shadow lingering on an armchair in the dimmest corner of the room, and his attention fully fixed on your exchange with the raunchy spider as it progressed.

The deer demon was intrigued by the interaction, mildly curious about how you’d handle Angels prying, and quietly prideful of his effect on you.

“You can’t fool me toots. I see how you look at ‘em’ when he’s in a room. He breathes, and you’re a mess! It’s actually kinda cute how much you like him!” You glared at Angel, ears standing straight as you seethed at him, “I. Don’t. Like. Him…”

He clicked his tongue, leaning forward with a coy smirk, “Really? So it’s just a coincidence you get all nervous around him but do everything he says without question?… “ Angel was unfazed by the quiet growl you responded with, “That doesn’t mean I fancy him-“

“Okay, so how else would you explain it then?” Angel sat back, arms folding over his chest and torso as he peered at you expectantly.

By this point, Charlie, Vaggie, and Husk were listening to the rift between you two. Although, Husk lost notable interest when he realized the subject of discussion while the others subconsciously chimed in without warning.

“He’s right, though..” Vaggie stared at you intensely, trying to piece together clues you swore weren’t there, to begin with, and Charlie soon joined her in the friendly interrogation. “Did you know Alastor before you came here or something? You do act a little off when he’s around…”

For the love of Satan!

Why couldn’t they just let it go?!?

You huffed and hung your head, agitated with so much attention being thrown onto you and becoming uncomfortable under pressure.

The matter of your soul belonging to Alastor was a subject you weren’t fond of breaching for several reasons.

1. Everyone would want to know why and how the arrangement occurred.

2. You were afraid they’d look at you differently, as less than worthy of being treated as a friend or reduced to being Alastor’s property and nothing else…

In reality, you meant much more to the overload than that, but no sinner needed to know such a thing, and to an extent, you weren't aware of his affection either.

Alastor preferred it that way.

It gave the overlord a vague thrill to leave you clueless about his infatuation while enjoying the way you couldn’t hide your adoration for him…

He chuckled to himself watching you squirm under the group's collective curiosity, admiring the deep rose color that set into your cheeks as you pouted.

Precious little thing…

The stag’s grin grew as the thought settled in his mind, eyes hooding over as a hum filled his chest, and though the sound was quiet, you still heard it.

He was there.

In the same room.

Waiting and watching…

Fantastic…

A small groan fell from your lips as you lifted your head, gaze shifting around the room to pinpoint where Alastor was, but there was no trace of him…

Or so you thought…

“My, my, you all are a nosy bunch! Leave the poor dear alone …” Alastor appeared behind you, mic in one hand while the other came to rest on your head.

He petted your hair softly, silently comforting your frazzled state, and you welcomed the gesture with a soft sigh.

Angel raised a brow at the sight, gaze shifting from your content expression to Alastor’s satisfied one as he caressed your ears. “See, this is what I was talking about. You act as if he owns you or something-“

Alastor whipped his head in Angel's direction, startling him and the others a bit as he interjected the observation. “That’s because I do own her, my good man. Mind. Body. & Soul…” The air grew thick with static, an uneasy wave of tension drowning the hotel lobby as Alastor glared daggers at everyone.

However, you still sat obediently under his touch without anxiety clouding your demeanor.

Charlie laughed nervously while Vaggie’s eyes widened as the revelation dawned on them both. Angel's mouth fell open, and Husk grumbled before rolling his eyes.

“Thought it was obvious…” the winged feline mumbled to no one in particular, refocusing on organizing the bar's alcohol arrangement as the conversation carried on.

“A-Alastor owns your soul?” Charlie asked, clearly shocked but actively masking it with a light-hearted tone. You nod slowly, choosing not to speak as his claws scratch behind your ears tenderly.

Vaggie shrugged, “Now, it makes sense…”

Angel finally clasped his mouth shut, stifling a laugh as he leaned further back into the parlor's sofa. “So I was right!” He shouted triumphantly, which earned a side glare from you. “Oh, shut up! Just because he owns my soul doesn’t mean I like him…”

Alastor gave you a quizzical look, humming thoughtfully as he processed your words, “Is that so, my dear?… You feel nothing for me at all?…”

Oh….maybe I shouldn’t have said that-!

Your mind raced to find a suitable reply, but all you could manage was a shaky laugh. “W-well, I wouldn’t say…’n-nothing’…”

His smile grew, “Would you like to elaborate on your true feelings for me in private, then?…”

“Sounds kinky…” Angels mumbled cheekily while flashing a closed-eye smirk, but neither Alastor nor you offered the remark a response.

“Wait, where’d they go?!..” The spider demon sat up pin straight as he realized you two were no longer in the room. The only sign left of your disappearance was the lingering tufts of black shadows swirling the spot he’d seen you and Alastor occupying a moment ago.

Vaggie rolled her eyes, turning on her heel to return to the task she’d left undone moments ago, “Not my business…” she sighed.

Charlie followed after her, stuck between confusion and giddiness over the newfound information, “I would’ve never thought Y/n belonged to Alastor. Wait, do you think she can still be redeemed, or are there strings attached…?”

Her rambling continued on as everyone found themselves busy again.

Everyone except you and Alastor…

You found yourself all alone with the owner of your soul, hidden in his infamous Radio Tower with the beginnings of a confession poised to slip from your tongue as he sat you in his lap.

“Now, I believe you were going to tell me exactly how you feel, darling….” Alastor lowered his head, hands resting on your waist to keep you flush against his chest, and your heart nearly flew from your chest as he did.

“You have my full attention, sweetheart.”

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx

I rewrote this five times….all because of writer's block :( ❤️ someone please send help -I'm hanging on by a thread rn…

[ NO BONUS CONTENT - ]

[solxamber]

Rest Assured - Jamil Viper x reader

4 times you see Jamil nearing his breaking point and the 1 time you intervene

You’ve always prided yourself on being observant. Some might call it nosy, but you prefer thoughtful. After all, if you didn’t keep an eye on things, who would? Especially when it came to someone like Jamil Viper, who, despite his best efforts to appear unfazed, was absolutely not fine.

And lately, it’s been like watching a train wreck in slow motion.

The guy was practically doing everything—cooking, cleaning, managing Kalim, studying, practicing, and dealing with an endless amount of Scarabia chaos. But today? Today felt like the universe decided to crank up the difficulty setting on his life, and you were determined to intervene. But first, you needed to observe.

Instance 1: Spaghetti Saga

It began in the kitchen, where Jamil was, unsurprisingly, cooking for the entire dorm. Kalim, bless his overly-enthusiastic heart, had announced a Scarabia Spaghetti Spectacular—an idea that seemed innocent enough on the surface. Until you realized that Kalim had no intention of helping. Well, he tried. Keyword: tried.

“Jamil! Jamil!” Kalim ran into the kitchen, arms full of ingredients that had no business being in spaghetti. “Look! I found some strawberries! And these marshmallows! They’d go perfectly in the sauce, right?”

Jamil froze mid-stir, his hand gripping the spoon so tightly you were concerned it might snap in two. Slowly, he turned to face Kalim, a polite but strained smile plastered across his face. “Strawberries? In spaghetti sauce?”

Kalim nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! It’s sweet, right? Sweet is good!”

Jamil’s eye twitched, just a little. “Kalim… no.”

“But—”

“No strawberries. No marshmallows. Please.”

Kalim deflated slightly but wasn’t deterred. “Okay! No problem! I’ll just add them to the salad instead.”

Before Jamil could react, Kalim darted off, presumably to wreak havoc on the next innocent dish. You caught the moment Jamil whispered to himself, “I’m in hell.”

And that was only the beginning.

Instance 2: Basketball Breakdown

The next incident occurred during basketball practice. Now, Jamil was usually the best player on the court, no question. Quick reflexes, sharp strategy—he could wipe the floor with the other teams without even breaking a sweat. But today?

Today, it was like he forgot what a basketball was.

It started innocently enough. A pass here, a dribble there, nothing out of the ordinary. But then one of the players tossed him the ball, and Jamil, in a moment that defied all logic and reason, missed it entirely. The ball smacked him square in the face with an audible thud.

The gym went silent. You could hear the collective gasp from the team, all eyes on Jamil, who stood there frozen, gripping his nose.

“Jamil!” Kalim shouted from across the court, jogging over. “Are you okay? Here, I brought some ice just in case!” He whipped out a handful of ice cubes from his pocket, offering them as if this was a totally normal thing to do.

Jamil stared at him, then at the ice cubes, and for a brief moment, you swore you saw his soul leave his body. But instead of snapping, he simply nodded, took the ice cubes, and walked off the court in silence, leaving everyone else standing there in stunned confusion.

“Did he just—?” one of the players started to ask, but you shook your head. “Don’t.”

You made another mental note. This was getting serious.

Instance 3: Paperwork Pandemonium

After practice, you found Jamil in his dorm room, surrounded by a sea of paperwork. And, of course, Kalim was there too, oblivious to the storm brewing in Jamil’s head.

“Jamil, can you help me organize these?” Kalim asked, holding up a stack of papers. “I don’t really know what half of them are, but they seem important!”

Jamil glanced at the pile with a deadpan expression. “Kalim, that’s the inventory for the next three months. You were supposed to file this weeks ago.”

Kalim blinked, still smiling. “Oh… well, I knew it was important!”

Jamil’s fingers twitched as he grabbed the papers from Kalim, scanning them quickly. “These are all overdue. We’re going to get fined if we don’t submit them by tomorrow.”

Kalim’s eyes widened in horror. “Tomorrow?! Oh no! What are we gonna do?”

Jamil took a deep breath, visibly restraining himself. “We aren’t going to do anything. I am going to fix this. Again.”

Kalim, ever the optimist, beamed. “Thanks, Jamil! You’re the best!”

And with that, he was off to who knows where, leaving Jamil alone in the paperwork disaster zone. You watched as he stared at the pile in front of him, his eye twitching again. He muttered something under his breath—something you were pretty sure wasn’t very polite.

You added another mental note. He was hanging by a thread.

Instance 4: The Final Straw (Almost)

The fourth instance happened later that evening, when you found Jamil in the library, supposedly studying for finals. But when you approached his table, you found him sitting there, staring blankly at a textbook. His pen was poised over a page, but he hadn’t written a single word.

“Hey,” you said softly, sitting down next to him. “How’s studying going?”

He didn’t answer at first, just continued staring at the book like it held all the answers to his existential crisis. Finally, he sighed. “I can’t do this.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t… I can’t handle all of this. Kalim. Finals. The dorm. Everything.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his voice. “It’s too much.”

You stared at him for a moment, then reached over and gently placed your hand on his. “You don’t have to handle it all by yourself, you know.”

He looked up at you, exhaustion clear in his eyes. “Who else is going to do it? Kalim? The other students? No one can do it like I can.”

You could hear the defeat in his voice, the resignation. He truly believed he was stuck in this never-ending cycle of responsibilities, with no way out.

That was it. You’d seen enough.

The Fifth Time’s the Charm: Break Time for Jamil

Without another word, you grabbed Jamil by the arm and pulled him out of the library. He barely had the energy to protest, following you like a zombie as you led him to a quiet, secluded spot in the courtyard. Once there, you gently pushed him down onto a bench.

“Sit,” you ordered, and to your surprise, he didn’t argue.

He sat there, looking completely drained, his usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion. You sat next to him, feeling your heart twist as you saw just how close he was to breaking down. This wasn’t the Jamil you were used to—this was someone who had been running on fumes for way too long.

You didn’t even think. You just acted. Before he could react, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

Jamil stiffened at first, clearly not used to such open displays of affection. But after a few seconds, he slowly relaxed, leaning into your embrace like a man who had been drowning and finally found a lifeline.

“I’m so tired,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You hugged him tighter, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I know. You’ve been doing too much for too long. You need a break.”

“I can’t,” he muttered, shaking his head. “There’s too much to do.”

“Screw the to-do list,” you replied. “You’re not a machine, Jamil. You need to rest, or you’re going to collapse.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just leaned into you, letting himself be vulnerable in a way you’d never seen before. You could feel the tension slowly draining from his body, the weight of his responsibilities finally lifting, if only for a moment.

And then, before you knew it, he was asleep.

You blinked in surprise, looking down at his head resting in your lap. His breathing had evened out, and his face, usually so guarded and composed, was now relaxed in peaceful slumber.

You couldn’t help but smile, gently running your fingers through his hair. He needed this more than he’d ever admit. And you? You were more than happy to be his pillow.

Jamil didn’t wake up for a while, and when he finally did, it was gradual, the soft sunlight filtering through the trees casting a warm glow over the courtyard. His lashes fluttered against your lap, his brows furrowing slightly in confusion as he blinked awake. The moment he realized where he was, nestled against you, his cheeks flushed and honestly, he looked adorable.

“I—” Jamil began, his voice thick with grogginess as he pushed himself up, wincing at the stiffness in his muscles. “Did I fall asleep?”

You offered a soft smile, brushing a few strands of his hair away from his face. “Yep. Right in my lap, too. You must’ve been really tired.”

His eyes widened, and the blush on his cheeks deepened. Jamil rarely let his guard down, but right now, he looked almost vulnerable, caught between embarrassment and gratitude. “I’m… sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Jamil,” you interrupted gently, placing a hand on his arm to keep him from sitting up fully. “Don’t apologize. You’ve been running yourself ragged, and you finally let yourself rest. I’m glad you did.”

He stared at you, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to respond. His shoulders sagged, and for once, he didn’t try to fight it. He stayed close to you, his body still angled toward yours, like he couldn’t quite bring himself to pull away completely.

You could see it, the weight of the exhaustion he’d been carrying for so long. The lines of stress etched into his face, the constant need to be on alert. Jamil had always been the responsible one, the one who took on everyone else’s burdens. But now, in this moment, you wanted to be the one to take care of him.

“Hey,” you said softly, threading your fingers through his hair again, watching as his eyes fluttered shut for a moment. “How about we get out of here? Take a break. A real break.”

Jamil’s eyes opened, and he frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, let’s go somewhere. Just the two of us. Somewhere far away from all of this. No Scarabia, no endless responsibilities. Just… us.” You leaned in a little closer, lowering your voice as if you were sharing a secret. “You deserve it, Jamil. You’ve done more than enough. It’s time to take care of yourself.”

He hesitated, his frown deepening, as if the very idea of abandoning his duties was too much to comprehend. “I can’t just leave… there’s too much to do. Kalim—”

“Will be perfectly fine,” you interrupted, your tone leaving no room for argument. “And besides, I think Kalim would be all for this. In fact, I bet he’d love the idea.”

Jamil looked unconvinced, but before he could argue further, you gave him a gentle nudge. “Think about it. You could actually relax for once. No one bothering you, no one asking for a hundred different things at once. Just peace and quiet. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

He glanced down at his hands, clearly mulling over your words. You could tell he was struggling with the thought of letting go, even just for a little while. Jamil had been in control for so long, it was hard for him to imagine a world where he didn’t have to be.

But you weren’t about to let him slip back into that cycle.

Reaching out, you gently cupped his cheek, tilting his head up so he was looking at you again. “You don’t have to do this alone. I’m here, Jamil. Let me take care of you for a change.”

His breath caught at your words, and for a long moment, he just stared at you, something soft and unspoken passing between you. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he leaned into your touch, his eyes slipping closed as he exhaled a long, weary breath.

“I don’t know if I know how to relax,” he admitted quietly.

You chuckled softly, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “Good thing you’ve got me then. I’ll teach you.”

There was a beat of silence, and then, with a small sigh, Jamil opened his eyes again, his gaze meeting yours. “You really think we could just… leave? Just like that?”

“Absolutely,” you said, the determination clear in your voice. “We’ll go somewhere beautiful, somewhere quiet. No one to bother us. Just you, me, and a whole lot of nothing.”

Jamil let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head slightly. “And what about Kalim? He’s bound to make a mess of things if I’m gone too long.”

“Don’t worry about him,” you said with a grin. “We’ll get him on board. Heck, Kalim will probably help us pack.”

And as if summoned by your words, Kalim himself appeared around the corner, grinning ear to ear like he’d just heard the best news of his life. “Did someone say vacation? I am so in!”

Jamil stared at him, his expression caught between disbelief and mild exasperation. “Kalim—”

Kalim bounded over to you both, practically vibrating with excitement. “Oh, Jamil, this is perfect! You’ve been working so hard lately, you totally deserve a break! You should l go somewhere fun! Ooh, maybe a beach? Or the mountains! Or, ooh, how about a floating island? I heard there’s one with the best sunrises!”

“Kalim—” Jamil tried again, but Kalim was on a roll.

“I’ll even help you pack! I can get everything ready! Don’t worry about Scarabia, I’ve got it all covered!” Kalim’s grin widened as he clapped Jamil on the shoulder. “You just focus on relaxing!”

Jamil blinked, looking thoroughly overwhelmed by Kalim’s sudden enthusiasm. “I… don’t know what to say.”

“How about ‘yes’?” you teased, nudging him again. “Come on, Jamil. You deserve this. Let yourself have something nice for once.”

Jamil glanced between you and Kalim, clearly torn. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the part of him that still wanted to cling to his responsibilities, to keep everything in order. But then, slowly, his expression softened. He let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“…Fine,” he muttered, his lips curving into a small, tired smile. “But only if you promise we’re not going anywhere too ridiculous.”

Kalim’s eyes lit up, and he practically bounced on the balls of his feet. “Yes! Don’t worry, I’ll find the perfect spot! You’ll love it!”

But before Kalim could dash off in a whirlwind of excitement, there was a sound behind you that made you groan inwardly—Crowley.

The headmaster sauntered into view, his usual over-the-top grandeur evident in every step. “Vacation, you say? Oh, I’m afraid that won’t be possible! You see, I was just about to ask you two for some assistance with a few important matters—”

Before he could finish, Jamil stood up sharply, his expression darkening. For once, it wasn’t the usual calm, collected Jamil standing in front of you. This Jamil was one step away from grabbing Crowley by the collar and shaking him like a rag doll.

“Headmaster,” Jamil began, his voice low and dangerous, “I have been running this dorm, managing everything from meals to paperwork, while studying and handling Kalim’s disasters for months. I have not had a break. I am this close to losing my mind.”

Crowley blinked, clearly taken aback by Jamil’s sudden intensity.

“If you try to take this vacation from me,” Jamil continued, his tone flat but terrifying, “I swear I will not be responsible for what happens next.”

Crowley opened his mouth to protest, but one look at Jamil’s expression—wild-eyed, teetering on the edge—was enough to make him think twice. “Ah, well, I suppose the matters can wait! Yes, yes, of course! You both deserve some time off. Enjoy your… rest.”

Jamil didn’t wait for any further confirmation. He grabbed your hand, pulling you to your feet, and shot Crowley a glare that could have melted steel. “We’re leaving. Now.”

You tried to suppress your laughter as Jamil practically dragged you away, Kalim bouncing along happily beside you.

Once you were a safe distance from the courtyard, Jamil finally slowed down, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He glanced down at you, his hand still holding yours.

“You really think this is going to work?” he asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

You grinned, squeezing his hand gently. “Absolutely. I’ll make sure of it.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you saw Jamil smile—a real, genuine smile, soft and full of relief. He leaned in closer, his voice low as he whispered, “Thank you. For… everything.”

Your heart fluttered as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering just a little longer than necessary. “You deserve it,” you whispered back, resting your head on his shoulder. “And I’ll be right there with you the whole time.”

Jamil chuckled softly, wrapping an arm around your waist as you both walked off, Kalim already rambling about potential vacation spots. But for now, you didn’t care where you were going. All that mattered was that it would be the two of you together.

Masterlist

[reidmarieprentiss]

Like Real People Do

Summary: After you fill in for JJ, Spencer has to deal with seeing you everyday at work.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst

Warnings/Includes: nondescript smut (16+), sexual tension, suggestive content, angst, arguing, ignoring feelings, repressing emotions, consumption of alcohol, Jemily, bisexual Penelope, brief discussions of cases and danger

Word count: 13k

a/n: the asked for part two to Too Sweet !!! will also be writing a part three oops lmao

main masterlist

part one part three

Spencer avoided you as much as possible during your first week with the team, and it pissed him off relentlessly that you didn’t seem to care. Every time he caught a glimpse of you, you were chatting easily with Emily, sharing a laugh with Derek, or diving into casework with the kind of enthusiasm that made everyone around you smile. You treated him just the same as you treated everyone else on the team—detached, professional, and completely unfazed by the tension he was sure hung between you. Spencer hated it.

He found himself watching you out of the corner of his eye, searching for any sign that you were affected by his presence, by the shared history that he couldn’t seem to forget. But you remained infuriatingly composed, your demeanor perfectly neutral. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation, no trace of the woman who had shared an intimate night with him only to disappear without a word. You were the perfect liaison—competent, friendly, and utterly professional. Spencer hated it.

One afternoon, you approached his desk with a bright smile, holding out a case file. “Hey, Doctor Reid, here’s the case file Hotch asked me to pass out. He specifically wants you to work on the geographical profile.”

“Thanks,” Spencer muttered, barely looking up as he took the file from your hand. His voice was clipped, his tone dismissive, but if it bothered you, you didn’t show it.

“You got it!” you replied cheerfully before turning to Derek’s desk, completely unbothered by Spencer’s curt response.

Spencer watched as you handed Derek his file with the same effortless professionalism. “Derek, here’s your file. Hotch asked that you look at the victimology.”

Derek grinned, leaning back in his chair as he took the file from you. “You bet, sweetcheeks,” he said with a wink, clearly pleased with the new nickname he’d given you.

Spencer bristled. He hated that you already had a nickname, that you’d integrated so seamlessly into the team. Everyone loved you, and why wouldn’t they? You were a lovely person—to them. You were always friendly, always helpful, always the first to crack a joke or lend a hand. To them, you were the perfect addition to the team. But to Spencer, you were a constant reminder of the hurt, confusion, and anger that had been gnawing at him for weeks.

He couldn’t understand how you could be so detached, so unaffected by everything that had happened between you. It gnawed at him, fueled his frustration every time he saw you laughing with Penelope or discussing a case with Hotch. How could you be so calm, so professional, when he was struggling to keep his emotions in check every time you were in the same room?

It made him furious, how easily you seemed to fit in. The way you spoke to him was exactly the same as how you spoke to Derek or Emily—there was no trace of recognition, no hint of anything beyond the professional. You didn’t flinch when he was cold, didn’t react to his clipped tones. If anything, you treated him with the same detached politeness you offered to everyone else. And that, more than anything, drove him crazy.

As the week dragged on, Spencer’s frustration simmered beneath the surface. He couldn’t shake the feeling that you were doing it on purpose—that you were deliberately pretending nothing had happened, just to get under his skin. Every time you walked past his desk with a smile, every time you handed him a file with that same calm demeanor, it was like salt in the wound. And the worst part was that you seemed completely oblivious to the effect you were having on him.

But Spencer wasn’t going to let it go. He wasn’t going to let you off the hook that easily. He’d confront you when the time was right, make you face the mess you’d left behind. But for now, he had to swallow his anger and focus on the case, even if it killed him to be in the same room with you.

As you moved on to distribute the rest of the case files, Spencer’s eyes followed you, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He couldn’t stand how professional you were, how detached, how much he wanted you to acknowledge him in some way that wasn’t wrapped in pleasantries and polite distance. The unresolved friction hung heavy in the air, and Spencer knew it was only a matter of time before it boiled over.

—

It was a typical Friday afternoon in the bullpen, the atmosphere lighter as everyone looked forward to the weekend. Spencer sat at his desk, his eyes flicking over the case file in front of him, though his mind was far from the details of the case. He was hyper-aware of your presence across the room, the sound of your voice carrying just enough for him to catch snippets of your conversation with Derek.

“Hey, sweetcheeks, you got any plans tonight?” Derek asked, his tone playful as always.

You grinned at him, clearly enjoying the banter. “Hello, Derek,” you replied with a teasing lilt in your voice. “I do, actually.”

“Ohhh, what’s up, a hot date?” Derek continued, the playful edge in his voice making it clear he was just having fun.

Spencer’s ears perked up at that, his focus shifting entirely to your conversation. He kept his eyes on his file, pretending to be engrossed in his work, but he was listening intently.

“Oh yeah, super hot date,” you smirked, your tone dripping with mock-seriousness.

Spencer’s jaw clenched involuntarily, and an unexpected wave of jealousy surged through him. The idea of you with someone else—laughing, smiling, sharing moments like the one you had with him—made his chest tighten with a mix of anger and hurt. He kind of wanted to slap you, though the rational part of his mind quickly reminded him that he would never do such a thing, especially not to a woman.

“Damn, Y/L,” Derek said with a chuckle, leaning back in his chair. “Wish it was me.”

You laughed, leaning in slightly as you replied, “Oh, I know, and it could be easily.”

Spencer’s stomach twisted at that. He couldn’t take it anymore. The easy way you flirted with Derek, the way you brushed off everything that had happened between the two of you as if it were nothing—it was too much. Without another word, he abruptly stood from his desk and took off, leaving the bullpen in a rush, his emotions boiling over. He was pissed, hurt, and tired of pretending like everything was fine.

Meanwhile, Derek tilted his head, intrigued by your response. “How do you mean?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“My hot date?” you replied with a mischievous grin. “Is my bathtub with salts and bubbles, baby.”

Derek burst out laughing, clearly amused by your response. “Ah, I see how it is. Gotta pamper yourself, huh?”

“Always,” you winked, feeling pleased with yourself for the playful banter.

But, of course, Spencer didn’t hear that part. He was long gone, too caught up in the idea that you were going on a date, too overwhelmed by the emotions he couldn’t seem to shake. He didn’t know the full story, didn’t realize that you were just playing around. All he knew was that you seemed to be moving on without a care in the world, while he was stuck in the unresolved mess of his feelings.

As you and Derek continued your conversation, completely unaware of Spencer’s reaction, the tension in the bullpen grew. Spencer’s departure didn’t go unnoticed by the others, though no one quite knew what had set him off this time. 

—

The team was gathered in the precinct in Atlanta, waiting for Hotch to hand out assignments for the day. The atmosphere was tense, everyone on edge due to the gruesome nature of the case. Hotch’s voice was calm and authoritative as he began assigning tasks.

“Reid, you go with L/N to speak with the family,” Hotch instructed, his tone leaving no room for questions—at least, that was usually the case.

“What? Why?” Spencer blurted out before he could stop himself.

The sudden outburst caught everyone off guard. Derek, Emily, and Rossi all looked at him with surprise, their eyes widening slightly at his uncharacteristic challenge to Hotch’s authority. It had been a long time since Spencer had questioned Hotch like this. Something was clearly wrong.

Hotch’s gaze narrowed slightly, his expression hardening as he addressed Spencer. “It’s your assignment, and you will take it. Go.”

The finality in Hotch’s tone left no room for arguments. Spencer knew better than to push further, but the pressure in the air was palpable. His frustration was obvious, and it didn’t go unnoticed by anyone, especially you.

You knew things were tense between you and Spencer, but you hadn’t realized it had reached the point where he would openly question Hotch. 

“Uh, I can drive if you want,” you offered, trying to bridge the gap. You had noticed that Spencer preferred not to drive, often handing over the keys to someone else.

For the first time, Spencer saw a crack in your usually cheery demeanor. You looked a little sheepish, almost uncertain, as you made the offer.

“Great, let’s go,” Spencer said curtly, tossing the keys to the SUV at you without another word.

The drive was awkward and quiet, the strain between you almost suffocating. Spencer sat in the passenger seat, his eyes glued to the file in front of him, while you focused on the road, trying to ignore the uneasy silence. The only sound was the occasional rustle of paper as Spencer flipped through the case notes, the quiet hum of the engine filling the space between you.

After what felt like an eternity, you broke the silence. “I can go in alone,” you offered, your tone neutral, almost indifferent.

Spencer looked up from the file, narrowing his eyes in confusion. “Why would you do that?”

“Well, you clearly didn’t want this assignment,” you replied, glancing at him briefly before returning your attention to the road.

“That had nothing to do with speaking to the family,” Spencer snapped, his voice tight with frustration.

“Ah, got it,” you said, your tone calm, almost detached, as if you were simply acknowledging the fact and moving on.

Your nonchalance in that moment, the way you brushed off his anger like it was nothing, made Spencer’s temper boil over. He couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“What is wrong with you?” he demanded, his voice rising with frustration.

“I'm sorry?” you responded, genuinely taken aback by the sudden outburst.

“You should be!” Spencer retorted, his words laced with bitterness. “How are you acting like everything is fine?”

“Did I do something to upset you, Doctor Reid?” you asked, your tone still calm but now tinged with an undercurrent of confusion.

“Uh, yeah, you did,” Spencer shot back, his voice trembling with the intensity of his emotions. He could feel the anger bubbling up, hurt and frustration that had been festering for weeks.

You pulled the car to a stop at a red light, turning to face him with a steady gaze. “Then tell me what it is,” you said, your voice no longer as detached as before. 

Spencer hesitated, his mind racing. Part of him wanted to lay everything out, to tell you how hurt he was by the way you left him that morning, how angry he was that you acted like nothing had happened between you two. But another part of him was conflicted, unsure if it was even worth bringing up now.

“You left,” Spencer finally said, his voice lower but filled with raw emotion. “You left without a word, without even a note, and then you just show up here like it meant nothing. And now, you’re acting like we’re strangers. Like none of it mattered.”

You stared at him, processing his words. The light turned green, and you started driving again, your grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly. For a moment, you were silent, weighing your response.

“It wasn’t nothing,” you said quietly after a long pause. “But it wasn’t something I thought needed to be addressed. We had a night, Spencer, and that’s all it was. I didn’t think it would turn into… this.”

Spencer shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “You really don’t get it, do you? You just left, Y/N. No explanation, no closure. And now I have to work with you every day, pretending like I don’t care, when it’s driving me crazy.”

You exhaled slowly, the tension in the car thickening as you both realized how deep the wound had become. The professionalism that you had clung to suddenly felt like a flimsy shield, barely holding back the storm of emotions between you.

“Spencer,” you began, your voice softer now, almost apologetic, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought… I thought it would be easier for both of us to just leave it behind.”

“Well, you were wrong,” Spencer replied sharply, his voice trembling with the effort to keep his emotions in check. “Because I can’t just leave it behind.”

Silence fell over the car again, but this time it was different. It was charged with unresolved feelings and the weight of words unspoken. The friction that had been simmering between you had finally boiled over, and there was no going back to how things were before.

The rest of the drive passed in heavy silence, both of you lost in your own thoughts, unsure of how to navigate the mess that had been laid bare. The case awaited you, but the real challenge was the emotional minefield you were both now walking through.

One thing was clear: this conversation wasn’t over, and neither was whatever it was that had started between you and Spencer.

—

When the case was finally closed and the team arrived back in Quantico, Hotch’s voice cut through the noise, calm but firm. “Reid, can I see you in my office?”

Spencer froze for a moment, then nodded silently and followed Hotch into his office, bracing himself for what he knew was coming. As soon as the door closed behind him, Hotch turned to face him, his expression stern.

“Do you want to tell me what has been going on with you?” Hotch asked, his tone leaving no room for deflection.

“Nothing is going on,” Spencer replied, his voice clipped and defensive as he tried to brush off the question. He avoided Hotch’s gaze, focusing instead on a spot on the wall just over his shoulder.

Hotch’s eyes narrowed slightly, clearly unimpressed with Spencer’s attempt to deflect. “We both know that’s not true, but if you’d like to ignore it, that’s fine. Just stop letting it affect your work.”

“Yes, sir,” Spencer responded, his tone stiff as he nodded, eager to leave the office and put this conversation behind him. He turned to leave, his hand already on the doorknob.

“And Reid?” Hotch’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Yes?” Spencer replied, turning back to face his unit chief.

“Give Y/N a chance,” Hotch said, his tone softening slightly. “I know you don’t like change, but she’s doing a great job. Don’t be so hard on her.”

The words hit Spencer like a punch to the gut. He felt a wave of anger surge through him, his emotions boiling over once again. Without a word, he turned on his heel and slammed the office door behind him with more force than he intended.

The sound echoed through the bullpen, drawing the attention of his teammates, but Spencer didn’t care. He stormed away, his mind a whirlwind of frustration and conflicting emotions. Hotch’s words replayed in his head, only serving to fuel his anger further. 

It wasn’t just about Y/N doing a good job or fitting in with the team. It was about the unresolved mess between them, the feelings he couldn’t shake, and the fact that she seemed completely unaffected by it all. He knew he was being irrational, but that only made him angrier.

—

The team was out for dinner, a well-deserved break after the grueling case in Atlanta. Everyone had already gathered around the table, chatting and laughing, when you and Spencer arrived—separately, of course. But as fate would have it, you walked in at the same time, an awkward coincidence that neither of you could avoid.

Spencer, despite everything, was still a gentleman. He held the door open for you, and you offered him a polite smile and a nod of thanks. The gesture was small, but it was the first sign of normalcy between you two in weeks. For a brief moment, you both seemed to fall back into your natural roles—Spencer being courteous, and you being gracious.

But when you reached the table, you both quickly realized that the rest of the team had already taken their seats, leaving only two spots open—right next to each other. The air between you immediately grew tense as you took in the situation. Spencer’s eyes went wide, his face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and frustration, and he heaved a deep sigh. He quickly moved to sit in the seat closest to Emily, hoping that sitting next to her would be a safer option than being near Derek, who was sure to stir the pot.

Unfortunately for Spencer, this left you next to Derek. As you settled into your seat, Derek flashed you a playful grin. “Hey, sweetcheeks. You clean up nice,” he said, his voice full of flirtatious warmth.

Before you could respond, Penelope’s voice rang out in mock indignation. “Derek Morgan, are you openly flirting with another woman in front of me?” she demanded, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

You laughed softly, turning to Penelope with a wink. “Oh, it’s okay, Pen. I won’t take your chocolate thunder. But maybe you can spare me a taste?” Your playful response sent a ripple of laughter around the table, everyone enjoying the lighthearted banter—everyone except Spencer.

Emily, who had been quietly observing the interaction, noticed the way Spencer’s shoulders were tense, his posture stiff as he stared down at the table. “You good, Reid?” she asked, her voice gentle with concern.

Spencer snapped out of his thoughts, blinking rapidly as he looked up. “Hmm? Yeah, just trying to decide what to get,” he mumbled, clearly distracted.

Emily raised an eyebrow, glancing pointedly at the unopened menu in front of him. “You haven’t even opened the menu…”

The observation made the rest of the team go quiet for a moment, all eyes subtly shifting to Spencer. It wasn’t like him to be so off-kilter, especially with the team. The strain between you two hadn’t gone unnoticed, and now, with everyone watching, it was clear that something was bothering him.

Spencer quickly realized that all eyes were on him, and he felt his face heat up even more. He fumbled for the menu, flipping it open with a little more force than necessary. “I’m just… still thinking about the case,” he said, his voice sounding a bit too forced.

Derek, always one to poke fun, leaned in with a grin. “C’mon, man. We closed that case days ago. What’s really on your mind?”

Spencer’s eyes darted to you for the briefest moment before he looked away, but it was enough for Derek to catch. The playful grin on Derek’s face widened as he put two and two together. “Ah, I see,” he said with a knowing nod, but he didn’t push further—at least, not yet.

The tension at the table eased slightly as the team returned to their conversations, but the underlying pressure between you and Spencer remained. You could feel his discomfort radiating from him, and though you tried to focus on the conversation around you, it was hard to ignore the awkwardness.

As the night wore on, you couldn’t help but wonder how long this uneasy dynamic would last. The team was clearly aware that something was up, and sooner or later, it would come to a head. 

Derek had noticed Spencer’s mood throughout the evening, and when it was time to leave, he realized that Spencer had taken the bus to dinner. With a casual smile, Derek offered him a ride home, which Spencer accepted, grateful for the gesture. But as soon as he climbed into Derek’s car, he began to regret it.

They had barely pulled out of the parking lot when Derek broke the silence with a teasing grin. “So, you got it bad for the new girl, huh?”

“What?” Spencer bit out, his voice sharper than he intended. He turned to Derek, his eyes wide with surprise and irritation.

“Oh, come on, we can all tell there’s some tension there,” Derek continued, clearly enjoying himself. “Why don’t you just ask her out?”

“I don’t like her like that,” Spencer snapped, his tone defensive as he stared out the window, avoiding Derek’s gaze. The street lights flickered by in a blur, but his mind was still racing with thoughts of you.

“Oh no?” Derek’s voice was laced with amusement, but there was also a hint of curiosity. “Then what is it? Just want to sleep with her?”

Spencer’s jaw clenched, his hands tightening into fists on his lap. “Drop it, Derek,” he said through gritted teeth, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Alright, alright,” Derek said, holding up one hand in a gesture of surrender while keeping the other on the steering wheel. “I’m just saying, kid, you’re a catch, and she’d be lucky to go out with a guy like you.”

Spencer couldn’t help the snort that escaped him. The idea of you being “lucky” to go out with him was laughable. As if you hadn’t already shown him exactly where he stood by leaving him behind without a word. As if you weren’t the one who had made him feel like a fool for even entertaining the idea that there could have been something more between you.

“That’s absurd,” Spencer muttered, shaking his head. “She’s not interested, Derek. Trust me.”

Derek glanced over at Spencer, noticing the bitterness in his voice and the tension in his posture. Something deeper was going on here, something that went beyond the usual awkwardness Spencer displayed around women he liked. But Derek knew better than to push too hard, especially when Spencer was clearly on edge.

“Alright, man,” Derek said more gently this time. “But if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here. No judgment, just listening.”

Spencer nodded stiffly, grateful for Derek’s attempt at understanding but unwilling to open up about the tangled mess of emotions he was dealing with. He appreciated the offer, but this was something he wasn’t ready to discuss, not with Derek or anyone else.

—

“So, we’ve got to set them up, right?” Emily asked conspiratorially, leaning in close to Penelope as they sat together at the end of a busy day. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and she was already imagining how this little plan could unfold.

“Obviously!” Penelope giggled, her enthusiasm bubbling over. “Spencer has it so bad for her. It’s like watching a rom-com, except the leads are way too awkward to realize they’re in one.”

“But does Y/N even like him?” Emily asked, frowning slightly. “I mean, she’s nice and friendly to everyone, but I’ve never seen her look twice at him. What if she doesn’t feel the same way?”

Penelope paused, tapping a finger thoughtfully against her chin. “You’re right, she’s hard to read. But maybe she’s just being professional, you know? She’s still new to the team—maybe she’s keeping her cards close to her chest.”

Emily nodded slowly, considering the idea. “True, but if we’re going to play matchmaker, we need to know where she stands. We can’t push them together if she’s not interested.”

A mischievous grin spread across Penelope’s face as an idea struck her. “What if we have a girls’ night?” she suggested, her voice full of excitement. “Get to know her better, loosen her up with some drinks, and ask about boys!”

Emily’s eyes lit up at the suggestion. “Yes! That’s perfect. We can make it a casual thing, just us girls hanging out, and see if she spills anything about her love life.”

“And if she does like Spencer, we’ll know exactly how to help them along,” Penelope added, already planning the evening in her head. “Plus, it’ll be fun to get to know her better. I’m sure she’s got some interesting stories.”

Emily leaned back in her chair, already imagining how the night would go. “This could be great. We’ll find out what makes her tick, and who knows? Maybe we’ll get her to admit she’s got a thing for our favorite doctor.”

Penelope clapped her hands together, practically vibrating with excitement. “Operation Girls’ Night is officially a go! We’ll plan it for this weekend—drinks, gossip, and maybe a little matchmaking.”

The two women exchanged a conspiratorial grin, pleased with their plan. They were determined to figure out what was going on between you and Spencer, and they weren’t above using a little friendly interrogation to get the answers they wanted. After all, if there was even a chance that you liked Spencer back, they were going to make sure you both got the push you needed.

—

The jet hummed softly as it cruised through the night sky, the team returning to Quantico after wrapping up another tough case. The mood was subdued, everyone lost in their own thoughts, until Emily decided to break the silence.

“Hey, Y/N,” she called out casually, her tone light as she turned to face you. “Do you have any plans this weekend?”

You looked up from the book you were reading, slightly surprised by the sudden question. “Uh, not that I can think of,” you replied, offering a small smile. “Why, what’s up?”

Before Emily could respond, Spencer, who had been unusually quiet during the flight, mumbled something under his breath without looking up. “No dates?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

The question hung in the air for a moment, the friction palpable as everyone exchanged glances. It was a rare moment for Spencer to say something so directly, and the team silently noted it, but decided to let it slide for now, choosing not to address the awkwardness.

Emily quickly picked up the conversation, steering it back on track. “Well… Garcia and I were thinking we could have a girls’ night!” she said brightly, her tone full of enthusiasm. “You know, just us ladies—drinks, snacks, maybe some bad movies?”

Your face lit up at the suggestion, your smile widening. “Oh, that sounds fun! I would love to!” you replied, genuinely excited at the idea. The past few weeks had been intense, and a girls’ night sounded like the perfect way to unwind and bond with your new teammates.

Penelope, who had been sitting across from you, perked up at the mention of girls’ night. “Yay! I’m so glad you’re in, Y/N! We’ll have the best time—trust me, you won’t want to miss it.”

Emily and Penelope exchanged a quick, satisfied glance, their plan already in motion. Spencer, on the other hand, remained silent, his eyes still fixed on the book in his lap, though his mind was clearly elsewhere. The subtle tension in the air didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the team, but they all pretended not to notice, keeping the atmosphere light.

—

You arrived at Penelope’s apartment armed with pajamas and a bottle of wine, ready for a much-needed girls’ night. The warm, welcoming atmosphere was exactly what you needed after the intense cases and whatever had been brewing between you and Spencer. As soon as you stepped inside, you were greeted by the delicious scent of snacks, the soft glow of string lights, and the comforting sound of a movie playing in the background.

Penelope, Emily, and you quickly settled in, surrounded by cozy blankets, a spread of snacks, and plenty of wine. The conversation flowed easily, punctuated by bursts of laughter as you all relaxed into the evening.

“So, Pen, how are things between you and Kevin? Still awkward?” Emily asked with a teasing grin as she took a sip of her wine.

“Oh yeah, not touching that again. Messy!” Penelope replied, wrinkling her nose in mock disgust. “We’ve officially moved on to the ‘friendly but distant’ phase.”

Emily chuckled and leaned in with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Anyone else tickling your fancy?”

Penelope’s face lit up with a shy smile, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Well, there’s this girl… I met her at my book club. She’s new, and she asked me out!”

“What! Penelope, that’s great!” you exclaimed, joining in on the excitement.

“Thanks, you guys,” Penelope said, beaming with happiness. “It’s still early days, but I’m really looking forward to seeing where it goes.”

Penelope turned her attention back to Emily. “How about you, Em? Anyone special in your life?”

Emily laughed softly, shaking her head. “Hmm… well, JJ is at home with our child right now, so I’m pretty set in that department.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What?? I didn’t know you and JJ were together!”

Emily grinned, clearly amused by your reaction. “Yeah, we’ve been together for a while now. We don’t talk about it much at work; we try to keep it professional, you know?”

“Of course, I just can’t believe no one mentioned it,” you replied, still a bit stunned by the revelation.

Penelope giggled, taking another sip of her wine. “I guess it’s common knowledge around the team. We forget not everyone knows.”

You leaned back against the cushions, feeling more comfortable now that the ice was broken. “Is it hard working with your partner?” you asked, genuinely curious about how they balanced their personal and professional lives.

Emily and Penelope shared a quick look before Emily answered. “No, not at all. If anything, it makes work easier, knowing I get to be with her all day, every day. And she motivates me to do better too.”

“Wow, that sounds amazing,” you said, smiling at the thought of such a supportive relationship. “It must be nice to have someone who understands your job so well.”

“It is,” Emily agreed, her eyes softening as she thought about JJ. “We’ve had our challenges, but in the end, we’re stronger for it. And it’s definitely made me appreciate how important it is to have someone who’s in your corner, both at work and at home.”

A comforting silence fell over the three of you, the kind of quiet that only comes when people feel truly at ease in each other’s company. The sound of the movie playing softly in the background mixed with the occasional clink of glasses, creating a cozy atmosphere that wrapped around you like a warm blanket.

After a few moments, Penelope broke the silence with a gentle, curious question. “What about you, Y/N?”

“Me?” you replied, looking up from your glass, slightly caught off guard.

“Yes, you!” Penelope grinned, her eyes twinkling with interest. “Any suitors in your life?”

You let out a small laugh, a mix of amusement and self-deprecation, as you tried to shrug off the question. “Oh, hah… none that last longer than one night,” you joked, though there was a hint of uncomfortability behind your words that you couldn’t quite hide.

Emily and Penelope exchanged a quick glance, both of them picking up on the undertone of your response. The lightness in the air dimmed just a little, the laughter fading into a more contemplative mood.

“Ah, the elusive one-night wonders,” Emily said with a wry smile, trying to keep the mood light while acknowledging the hint of vulnerability in your voice. “They can be fun, but they’re not exactly the stuff of fairy tales.”

Penelope, ever the compassionate one, leaned in a bit closer, her voice soft and reassuring. “You know, Y/N, there’s nothing wrong with enjoying those nights, but if you’re looking for something more… well, you deserve that too. Sometimes it just takes time to find the right person.”

You smiled gratefully at Penelope, appreciating her kindness. “Thanks, Pen. I guess I’m just not even sure what I’m looking for.”

“What do you mean?” Emily asked, her tone gentle but curious as she leaned in a little closer, genuinely interested in what you had to say.

You sighed, trying to put your swirling thoughts into words. “I don’t know… I thought I knew what I wanted, but then something changed, and now I’m even more confused than ever.”

“What happened?” Penelope asked, her curiosity piqued. There was no judgment in her voice, just a soft encouragement that made you feel comfortable enough to share.

You hesitated for a moment, gathering your thoughts before speaking. “Well, I met a man, and we spent a night together. It was… amazing, not just the sex, but the conversation, the connection. It felt different, you know? Like it could have been something more. But I’ve got some stuff—baggage, I guess—and my mind is a mess. I think I might have ruined it by running away before it could become anything. But the thing is, I’m not even sure if I would want anything more right now. It’s just so complicated.”

Emily and Penelope exchanged a quick, subtle glance, both of them piecing together what you were saying. Given the recent tension between you and Spencer—his unusual behavior, your guarded interactions, and the awkward moments when you were in the same room—it wasn’t hard for them to suspect that Spencer might be the man you were talking about. 

They had to play this cool and casual, though. If you were talking about Spencer, the last thing they wanted to do was push you too hard and make you shut down. But if it wasn’t Spencer, they needed to know that, too, because it would affect how they approached their little matchmaking plan.

Penelope leaned in slightly, keeping her tone light. “It sounds like you’re in a tough spot. But it’s okay to feel unsure, Y/N. Sometimes things are complicated, and it takes time to sort through what you really want.”

Emily nodded in agreement, adding, “Exactly. And no one’s saying you have to have it all figured out right now. It’s okay to take things slow and figure out what you need for yourself.”

You looked at both of them, feeling a sense of relief that they weren’t pushing you for more details or making assumptions. “Thanks, you guys. It’s just hard when you feel like you’ve found something special, but you’re not in the right place to pursue it.”

Penelope gave you a warm smile. “Whatever you decide, just know that we’re here for you. And if it’s meant to be, it’ll find a way to work out, even if it’s a little messy.”

You smiled back, feeling a bit lighter after sharing your thoughts. “I hope so. I just need to figure out what’s going on in my head first.”

The conversation shifted to other topics after that, but Emily and Penelope couldn’t help but keep an eye on you, silently wondering if Spencer was the man you were talking about. If it was him, they knew they had to tread carefully. But if it wasn’t… well, their plans might need some adjusting.

As the night went on, the three of you continued to bond over wine, laughter, and shared stories. But beneath the surface, both Emily and Penelope were already plotting their next move, determined to either help you sort through your complicated feelings or figure out if you were talking about someone else entirely.

—

The team had been called out to Florida to investigate a string of brutal murders that had the local authorities stumped. The unsub had a specific and chilling pattern: targeting young, straight, white couples, forcing the boyfriend to murder his girlfriend before disposing of the bodies. The case was as gruesome as it was urgent, and the BAU knew they had to act quickly to prevent more lives from being lost.

After reviewing the case details, Hotch gathered the team in the conference room of their makeshift command center. “We believe the unsub is selecting his victims from a specific nightclub in the area,” Hotch began, his voice steady. “He’s likely using this location as a hunting ground, identifying couples that match his preferred victimology. We need to draw him out.”

Hotch turned to Spencer with a serious expression. “Reid would you be comfortable playing the part of the boyfriend in an attempt to get the unsub’s attention at the club?”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, his mind racing. This was far outside his comfort zone, but the urgency of the situation left him with little choice. “If it’s what’s needed, I’ll do it,” he agreed, though his voice was a bit tighter than usual.

Hotch nodded, appreciating Spencer’s willingness. “Thank you, Reid. We’ll ensure you have all the backup you need.”

Hotch then turned to Emily, intending to ask her to be Spencer’s counterpart. “Prentiss, I’d like you to play the role of the girlfriend. We can work on the cover story and—”

Before he could finish, Emily shook her head, interrupting him. “Hotch, I think I’m too old to fit the unsub’s victimology. He’s targeting younger couples, and I wouldn’t blend in as well as someone closer to the profile.”

Hotch paused, considering her words. She had a point—the unsub’s victims had all been in their twenties. He needed someone who could convincingly pass as a target (Emily could let’s be real). His eyes drifted toward you, and though he was hesitant, he knew you were the best option given the circumstances.

He turned to you, his expression serious. “Y/N, I know this isn’t what you signed up for as a liaison, and I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position. But with Prentiss being right about the victimology, you’re our best option. I can give you a quick debriefing and some coaching if you agree.”

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden request. You were used to working in the field, but this was different—this was personal and dangerous. The thought of working so closely with Spencer made your stomach tighten. But you also knew how high the stakes were. If your participation could save lives, you couldn’t refuse.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded. “If you think it’s the best course of action, I’ll do it. Just make sure I know what I’m doing.”

Hotch offered you a reassuring nod. “You’ll have all the support you need. We’ll work through the cover story and logistics before you head out. And remember, the entire team will be watching your backs.”

With the plan in motion, the team began preparing for the undercover operation. The pressure in the air was thick as Hotch pulled you aside for a quick but thorough debriefing. You could feel the weight of the situation settling on your shoulders, but you steeled yourself, determined to do whatever it took to help catch the unsub.

“Okay, Y/N,” Hotch began, his voice calm and authoritative, “this is what you need to do.”

He handed you a small earpiece. “You’ll be wearing this the entire time. We’ll be in constant communication with you and Spencer. The team will be monitoring everything from the van outside, so if anything feels off or if you sense any danger, just signal us, and we’ll intervene immediately.”

You nodded, slipping the earpiece in and adjusting it. The idea of being so closely monitored was both reassuring and nerve-wracking, but you pushed those feelings aside.

Hotch continued, his tone serious. “When you get to the club, you need to act naturally—like a couple out for a night of fun. The unsub is methodical, and he’s likely watching for couples who fit his victim profile. You and Spencer need to blend in, but you also need to be aware of your surroundings. Stay close to Spencer, and don’t let your guard down.”

He paused, looking you in the eye. “Remember, the unsub likely approaches the couples he targets with charm and subtlety. You may not recognize him right away, so trust your instincts. If anyone seems too interested in you or Spencer, report it immediately.”

You swallowed, feeling the gravity of the situation. “What if he tries to separate us?”

“That’s unlikely at first,” Hotch replied. “He’ll want to gain your trust before making his move. But if he does try, make it difficult. Stay close to Spencer. Your job is to make sure the unsub believes you’re a real couple. Your cover story is that you’ve been dating for a few months, and this is a special night out for you.”

You met Hotch’s gaze, feeling nerves and determination. “I understand. I won’t let you down.”

Hotch gave you a reassuring nod. “Good. We’ll be right there with you every step of the way.”

With that, the briefing was over. You felt the weight of the mission settle more heavily on your shoulders, but you also knew you had the full support of the team behind you. As you walked back to where Spencer was waiting, you mentally prepared yourself for what was to come. 

You approached Spencer with hesitation and resolve, knowing that this conversation needed to happen before you both went undercover. The tension between you had been simmering for weeks, and now you were about to put on an act that required you to be convincingly in love. The irony wasn’t lost on you.

“Spencer…?” you began, your voice cautious.

“Yes?” he replied, his tone clipped, already on edge.

“This is going to be awkward, and I’m sorry for that,” you continued, trying to break the ice. “Can we just keep this professional? We can act like we like each other to save lives, right?” You attempted a light-hearted joke, but it fell flat.

“Of course, Y/N. I’m not a child,” Spencer snapped back, his irritation clear. So much for pretending to like you.

You winced slightly at his tone but pressed on. “Okay…um, I also wanted to say that—well, nothing is off the table. Whatever it takes to catch this guy, get his attention, make him believe we’re a desirable couple in love…let’s do it.”

Spencer’s eyes softened just a fraction as he realized you were serious. He took a deep breath, nodding. “Okay, I agree. We’ll do whatever it takes.”

The conversation was brief and tense, but at least you had established some ground rules. There was still a thick layer of unresolved emotion between you, but you both knew that when it came down to it, the mission took priority. 

—

You and Spencer had gotten ready separately for the club, knowing that you needed to look the part if you were going to convincingly play a couple that the unsub might target. Emily had been by your side as you prepared, her encouragement and sharp eye ensuring that you looked hot as hell. She may have had a hidden agenda, hoping that something real might spark between you and Spencer tonight, but she kept those thoughts to herself.

When the time came, you both met in the hotel lobby, the plan ready to be set into motion. But as soon as you laid eyes on each other, the seriousness of the situation was momentarily forgotten, both of you sent mildly for a loop by each other’s appearance.

Spencer’s gaze swept over you, taking in the way your outfit hugged every curve. The tight, red top and matching skirt, revealing just enough to be teasing, had his mind reeling. He was suddenly, and quite vividly, reminded of the night you’d spent together, the memory of you beneath him flashing in his mind. The sight of you now, looking so effortlessly sexy, made his throat go dry.

Meanwhile, you were having a hard time picking your jaw up off the floor. Spencer, who usually favored his vests and button-ups, had ditched the formal wear for a more relaxed look. The simple gray t-shirt clung to his lean frame, accentuating the lines of his shoulders and chest. The addition of the chain around his neck was enough to make your heart skip a beat. You had always thought Spencer was attractive, but seeing him like this—so casual, so effortlessly confident—had your pulse racing.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, both caught up in the unexpected surge of attraction. It was clear that the night ahead was going to be challenging in more ways than one. But as the mission loomed over you, the strain between you simmered just beneath the surface, threatening to bubble over.

Finally, Spencer broke the silence, clearing his throat as he tried to regain his composure. “You… uh, you look great, Y/N. Ready for this?”

You forced a smile, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest. “Thanks, Spencer. You clean up pretty well yourself. Let’s do this.”

With that, you both turned toward the exit, the air between you charged with unresolved feelings and unspoken words. The night had just begun, and already, it was clear that the lines between your undercover roles and your real emotions were going to be dangerously blurred.

—

Inside the club, the pulsing beat of the music and the flashing lights created an atmosphere that was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. The energy of the place was infectious, but your nerves were on edge. The thought that someone in this very crowd might be eyeing you as their next victim sent a shiver down your spine. You tried to keep your cool, but it wasn’t easy. The low light, the thrumming bass, and the knowledge that you were essentially bait made the situation feel far more intense.

But it wasn’t just the case that had your nerves frayed. As soon as you and Spencer stepped out of the car, you felt his big, warm hand press gently against the exposed skin of your lower back, guiding you toward the entrance. The contact was electrifying, sending a fire through your entire body. You weren’t sure if it was the nerves, the proximity, or the tension between you two, but every nerve ending felt like it was on high alert.

“Alright, Y/N, stay calm,” Spencer’s voice cut through your thoughts, his tone soothing yet firm. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke just loudly enough for you to hear over the music. “Let’s go to the bar. We can get some non-alcoholic drinks.”

You nodded, trying to focus on the task at hand. But it was hard to concentrate when his hand stayed firmly on your back, the warmth of his touch grounding you even as it sent your pulse racing. You reminded yourself that this was all part of the act, but the effect it was having on you felt far too real.

As you made your way through the crowd, the lights flashing in sync with the music, you did your best to play the role. You leaned into Spencer slightly, letting yourself appear relaxed, as if you were just another couple out for a good time. But inside, your mind was a whirlwind of anxiety and an unexpected attraction that you hadn’t anticipated.

When you reached the bar, Spencer ordered two non-alcoholic drinks, keeping his voice low and calm. He was good at this—better than you’d expected. His demeanor was confident, protective, and even though you knew it was all part of the cover, it was hard not to feel a sense of comfort from it.

As the bartender handed over your drinks, Spencer’s hand finally left your back, and you couldn’t help but miss the warmth. You took a deep breath, focusing on the mission. You needed to look natural, to draw attention without appearing out of place. It was all about selling the image.

“Here,” Spencer said, handing you your drink. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was something unspoken between you. “We’ll just hang out here for a bit, see if anyone takes notice.”

You nodded, taking a sip of your drink and trying to ignore the way your heart was still racing. The club was filled with people dancing, laughing, and flirting, and for a brief second, you almost wished you were here under different circumstances—no case, no danger, just you and Spencer, enjoying a night out.

But the reality was far from that. You were here to catch a killer.

“Baby, do you want to stand at that high top by the dance floor?” Spencer asked, his voice louder to be heard over the thumping music. The term of endearment threw you off guard, your mind momentarily blanking at the unexpected sweetness in his tone. It sounded so natural, so right, coming from him, and it sent a flutter through your chest.

You quickly recovered, trying to keep up the act. “Uh, yeah, babe—let’s go,” you replied, the word feeling a bit foreign on your tongue but surprisingly easy to say. Spencer responded by taking your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as he led you toward the high-top table near the dance floor. His grip was firm, comforting, and despite the circumstances, you couldn’t help but notice how well your hands fit together.

Once you reached the table, you positioned yourselves so that you had a good view of the club. It was all about the mission—watching the crowd, spotting anyone who might be a threat—but Spencer leaned in closer, his voice low and intimate as he spoke.

“You look so beautiful tonight,” he mumbled, his words almost lost in the din of the music. “No one can keep their eyes off of you. This is going to be difficult.”

His compliment was unexpected, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if it was part of the act or something more. The way he said it, with that soft, almost shy tone, made your heart skip a beat. The intensity of his gaze, the way his eyes lingered on yours, made you wonder if there was more truth to his words than he was letting on.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you hoped the dim lighting would hide it. 

He nodded, his expression serious again as he scanned the room, his hand still holding yours. “Let’s just stay close and make sure we don’t separate. If anyone approaches, we stick to the story—dating for a few months, here for a special night out. We can’t let our guard down.”

You agreed with a nod, though your thoughts kept drifting back to the way his hand felt in yours, how effortlessly he was playing the role of your boyfriend. The line between acting and reality was starting to blur, and you found yourself getting lost in the moment, despite the danger lurking somewhere in the club.

But you quickly refocused, reminding yourself of the stakes. This was about catching a killer, not exploring whatever confusing feelings you might have for Spencer. Still, as you stood there, fingers intertwined with his, it was hard to ignore the fact that pretending to be in love with him didn’t feel like much of a stretch at all.

As you stood at the high top with Spencer, you couldn’t help but notice how close the other couples around you were. Some were practically glued together, their bodies pressed intimately against one another. A few had their arms wrapped around each other, sharing whispered words and secret smiles, while one particularly bold couple was making out with such intensity that you were sure they’d forgotten they were in public. The contrast between their closeness and the polite distance you and Spencer were keeping was glaringly obvious.

You knew you had to sell the illusion more convincingly. Taking a deep breath, you dropped Spencer’s hand and moved in closer, turning so your back was pressed firmly against his chest. The move was bold, and it had the intended effect. Your ass brushed against his crotch, the contact sending a shockwave through both of you. You could feel his body tense behind you, the sudden intimacy making your pulse quicken.

“What the hell are you doing?” Spencer whispered harshly in your ear, his voice low and strained as his hands instinctively gripped your hips to keep up the charade. The warmth of his breath against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, but you did your best to ignore it.

“Acting like a couple,” you murmured back, keeping your tone casual despite the rapid thudding of your heart. “Look around.”

Spencer glanced around the club, taking in the other couples who were much closer, more intimate, and clearly far more convincing as lovers than the two of you had been up until this point. He realized you were right—if you were going to catch the unsub’s attention, you needed to sell the act. Still, the sudden proximity was rattling him in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

He swallowed hard, trying to focus on the mission instead of the way your body felt pressed against his. “Okay, fine,” he muttered, his grip on your hips tightening just slightly. “But don’t go too far.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at his discomfort, but you knew he was right. You needed to maintain control, but you also had to look convincing. Leaning back into him, you let your body relax against his, your movements slow and deliberate as you adjusted to the new position.

Spencer’s hands remained on your hips, his thumbs brushing against the fabric of your skirt as he tried to ignore the way your warmth seeped into him. Despite the uncertainty between you, there was an undeniable connection in the way you moved together, a rhythm that felt strangely natural.

The music thumped around you, the lights flashed in time with the beat, and as you swayed in time with the music, the line between act and reality blurred even further. It was becoming harder to remember that this was just a cover, just a mission. And from the way Spencer’s grip on your hips lingered a little too long, you wondered if he was feeling the same way.

“Reid, L/N, five o'clock, guy in a gray hoodie, looked past you. Step it up,” Hotch’s voice crackled through your earpieces, snapping you both out of the momentary haze that had settled over you. The reminder of the mission sent a cold shiver down your spine, the gravity of the situation crashing back into focus. This wasn’t just an act; this was a dangerous game with real consequences.

You blinked, forcing yourself to stay calm. The intimacy of your position was suddenly charged with a different kind of tension. You could feel Spencer tense behind you, the same realization dawning on him.

“Spencer…” you began, your voice soft, trying to keep the fear out of your tone. “Can I turn around? We can dance?”

He hesitated for the briefest moment, then nodded. “Sure,” he replied, his voice a bit strained.

You slowly turned to face him, your heart beating fast in your chest. As you did, you were met with his intense gaze, those pretty hazel eyes locking onto yours. The club lights flickered across his face, casting shadows that only seemed to make him look more striking. 

“Hi,” you whispered, the word slipping out before you could stop it.

“Focus, Y/N,” Spencer gritted out, his jaw tight as he forced himself to stay on task. His hands slid back to your hips, pulling you taut against his body with a firmness that was more grounding than intimate. He wasn’t playing around anymore—he was in full profiler mode, and he needed you to be too.

You swallowed hard and nodded, pushing the swirling emotions aside. There was no room for hesitation or distraction now. You both began to sway to the beat, your bodies moving together in a way that was meant to draw attention, but also to look like a couple deeply connected.

As you danced, you could feel the tension in Spencer’s body, the way he was torn between the necessity of the mission and the undeniable pull between you. The pressure of his hands on your hips was both reassuring and unsettling, grounding you in the moment while reminding you of the line you couldn’t cross.

But even as you tried to focus on the task, the proximity, the warmth, and the intensity of his gaze made it difficult to separate the act from reality. You were dancing for a purpose, but the way your bodies moved together felt far too natural, far too easy.

The man in the gray hoodie lingered in your peripheral vision, and you knew the stakes were high. You had to sell this, had to make him believe you were just another couple in love, completely unaware of the danger lurking nearby.

“Hotch, you can see us, right?” you asked into the earpiece, trying to keep your voice steady despite the nerves gnawing at your insides.

“Of course,” Hotch’s calm voice responded. “Morgan and Prentiss are inside too, keeping an eye on everything.”

The reassurance helped, but only slightly. You knew the team had your back, but that didn’t make the situation any less intense. You glanced up at Spencer, noticing how his eyes kept darting around the room, scanning for threats.

“Okay, Spencer, look at me,” you said firmly, your voice just loud enough for him to hear over the music. “Stop looking around—you’re in love with me, remember?”

Spencer’s gaze snapped back to you, and he gave you a playful glare, clearly annoyed by the reminder but unable to argue with the logic. You didn’t give him a chance to respond before wrapping your arms around his shoulders and tangling your fingers in the back of his hair. The move brought you closer, your bodies pressing together in a way that was far too reminiscent of your last intimate encounter. You could feel the tension coil tighter between you, but you ignored it, focusing on the mission.

“Y/N…” he warned low, his voice strained, the memory of that night flashing in his eyes. The way your fingers brushed against his scalp was too familiar, too charged with unspoken emotion.

“Just doing my job,” you whispered back, your tone light but your heart pounding in your chest.

“Mhm,” he hummed, clearly not convinced but playing along nonetheless.

Before either of you could say more, Derek’s voice crackled through your earpieces. “Reid, grab lower—you look too stiff.”

Emily smothered a laugh from where she stood across the club, clearly enjoying the situation more than she probably should. But Spencer, ever the professional, did as he was told. His hands slid down your back, settling on your ass with a firm grip. The sudden, bold move sent a jolt through you, and you couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped your lips.

“Payback,” Spencer mouthed, a mischievous glint in his eye as he held your gaze, not wanting the others to hear the exchange.

You narrowed your eyes at him, biting back a smile despite yourself. He was getting into the role now, playing the part of the devoted boyfriend with a bit more enthusiasm than you expected. But there was still that undercurrent of uncertainty, that sense that the line between acting and reality was growing thinner by the second.

You took a deep breath, trying to stay focused. The man in the gray hoodie was still in the corner of your eye, and you couldn’t afford to let your guard down. But as Spencer’s hands remained on your body, his touch far more intimate than necessary, you found it increasingly difficult to keep your own emotions in check.

The moment you heard Spencer’s voice through the earpiece, directing, “Prentiss, Morgan, keep your eyes on gray hoodie,” you barely had time to register what was happening before Spencer’s lips pressed down on yours.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was intense, full of urgency and purpose, catching you completely off guard. His hands tightened on your ass, pulling you even closer. The heat of his body against yours made your head spin and you let out a whine that Spencer felt more than heard. There was nothing hesitant about the way he kissed you—his mouth moved against yours with a fierce determination, as if he was trying to communicate everything he couldn’t say out loud.

Your initial shock melted into the moment as you found yourself kissing him back just as fervently. The crowded, noisy club seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you locked in this sudden, passionate embrace. It was more than just a distraction for the unsub—it felt real, too real, like all the friction that had been building between you both had finally erupted.

Your hands fully fisted his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as you let yourself get lost in the kiss and Spencer’s deep groan. There was a desperation in the way Spencer’s lips moved against yours, a need that mirrored your own, and it was impossible to tell where the act ended and the truth began.

When he finally pulled back, you were both breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. Spencer’s eyes were dark, his pupils blown wide as he looked at you, still holding you close. There was a moment of silence between you, the world seeming to stand still in the aftermath of what had just happened.

But then reality came crashing back in. The club’s pounding music, the mission, the danger—it all returned in an instant. You blinked, trying to steady yourself, reminding yourself why you were here.

“That should do it,” Spencer muttered, his voice low and rough as he glanced over your shoulder, checking for any reaction from the man in the gray hoodie.

You swallowed hard, nodding, though you couldn’t quite find the words to respond. The kiss had shaken you, and you could tell it had affected Spencer too, though he was doing his best to remain composed.

“Good job, gray hoodie is making his way over. Prepare to talk to him,” Hotch’s voice came through your earpieces, calm and commanding as always.

You barely had time to catch your breath, trying to shake off the lingering effects of Spencer’s kiss. But there was no time to dwell on it now—the mission was moving forward, and you needed to be ready.

“Nice work, pretty boy,” Derek added, his voice laced with amusement. You could practically hear the smirk in his tone, and you knew he’d have something to say about that kiss later. But for now, all you could do was roll your eyes and focus on what was coming next.

Spencer’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, a subtle reminder that he was right there with you, in more ways than one. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Remember, we’re just here to have a good time. Stay calm, and let me lead the conversation.”

You nodded, your heart still racing but your mind sharpening as you prepared to interact with the man who could very well be the unsub. You glanced up at Spencer, his eyes meeting yours with determination and something else—something unspoken, lingering just beneath the surface.

The man in the gray hoodie approached you and Spencer, his eyes scanning the area before focusing on you with a predatory gleam. Sensing his intent, you and Spencer stayed close, maintaining your cover as he made his move. As he began to get aggressive, subtly trying to lead you away from the crowd, Spencer tightened his hold on you, ready to react.

But before the situation could escalate further, Prentiss moved in quickly, her handcuffs at the ready. The moment the unsub tried to take control, she was on him, expertly restraining him before he could do any harm. The takedown was swift and decisive, with the unsub barely registering what had happened before he was secured.

“Great job, you two,” Hotch’s voice came through the earpiece, filled with genuine praise. You could almost hear the relief in his tone as he acknowledged how smoothly the operation had gone.

“Yeah, nice work, lovebirds,” Derek interjected, his playful tone impossible to miss. You could practically see the teasing grin on his face, and you knew he wouldn’t let either of you forget this night anytime soon.

“Who knew our boy genius could lay it on thick?” Emily added, a laugh in her voice. “Maybe we should send you two undercover more often.”

Rossi, who had been observing quietly from the sidelines, simply smiled knowingly. His eyes twinkled with understanding, as if he could see right through the situation, recognizing more than just a job well done. There was something in his expression that suggested he knew this was more than just a successful operation—that perhaps there was something else between you and Spencer.

As the team began wrapping up, gathering evidence and securing the unsub, you felt a strange sense of relief and uncertainty. The mission was over, but the kiss, the tension, the way Spencer had held you—it all lingered in the back of your mind.

For now, you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the successful outcome of the case. But as you glanced at Spencer, you knew you couldn’t ignore what had happened between you two forever. There would be time to address it later, to figure out what it meant, but for now, you were content to let the night end on a high note, with the unsub in custody and your team’s playful banter filling the air.

—

The night was still, the only sounds coming from the occasional hum of the air conditioning unit in your hotel room. You lay there, unable to sleep, your mind replaying the events of the evening over and over. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop thinking about Spencer—his touch, his kiss, the way he had looked at you as if there was something more.

Then, just as you were beginning to drift off, you heard a soft knock at your door. It was so faint that you almost thought you imagined it, but then you heard it again, followed by your name whispered in a voice you knew all too well. Spencer.

You shot up in bed, your heart racing, quickly and quietly making your way over to the door. You opened it, and there he was, standing in the dim light of the hallway, his expression unreadable.

“Spencer? What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

But Spencer didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped forward, his hands reaching for your face, pulling you into a fierce, urgent kiss. The force of it took you by surprise, and you stumbled back into the room, the door shutting softly behind him.

His hands were on you, impatient and demanding, as he began to strip away your clothes, tossing them aside as he moved with purpose. You knew deep down that you should stop this, that it was dangerous to blur the lines between your professional and personal lives even further. But the need in his kiss, the desperation in his touch, made it impossible to resist.

Before you knew it, you were both undressed, and he was pushing you down onto the bed. Your thoughts were a whirlwind, but the words tumbled out before you could stop them. “Spencer?”

His response was immediate, his tone firm, almost commanding. “I really don’t want to hear you talk.”

And then you felt it—a fabric pressed against your tongue. You recognized the taste, the feel of it. Your underwear. He had stuffed them into your mouth, silencing you as he leaned over you, his eyes dark with intent.

Your body reacted to his dominance, a mix of fear and desire coursing through you as you surrendered to the moment. Whatever this was between you two, it was undeniable, unstoppable. 

You nodded quickly, the realization of what was happening sinking in fast. You were ready to submit, ready to give in to Spencer completely, knowing that, in some twisted way, you owed this to him after everything that had transpired between you. The strain, the unresolved emotions, the unspoken words—all of it led to this moment, and you were helpless to resist.

You let Spencer maneuver you with ease, guiding you until your head was resting on the pillows, your body laid out beneath him. His touch was firm, deliberate, as he held your wrists above your head in one of his hands, his grip possessive yet reassuring. There was a weight to his movements, a sense of control that sent a shiver down your spine. 

As he began to enter you, the sensations overwhelmed your mind. You felt the warmth of his body, the intensity of his focus, and the way his presence filled every inch of the space around you. For the night, you allowed yourself to believe in the fantasy that you were still dating Spencer, still wrapped up in that intoxicating bubble from the club where the world outside didn’t exist. It was a dangerous illusion, but one that you clung to, desperate to feel something other than the emptiness that had plagued you for so long.

You knew, deep down, that this was temporary, that you would regret it when the sun rose and the reality of your situation came crashing down. The intimacy, as fulfilling as it was in the moment, would leave you more vulnerable than ever before. But for now, you pushed those thoughts aside, letting the connection with Spencer fill the void that you had been ignoring for years.

In the quiet darkness of the hotel room, with only the sounds of your shared breaths and the gentle rustling of the sheets, you gave yourself over to the moment. The rawness, the passion, the way Spencer took control—it all felt like an escape from the complications of your real life, a brief respite where nothing mattered but the two of you.

But even as you lost yourself in the sensations, a small part of you knew that this night would leave a mark. The ache in your chest would linger long after the pleasure faded, and the distance between you and Spencer would only grow wider once the night was over. Yet, despite the inevitable pain, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. Not tonight.

—

When you woke up the next morning, the sunlight filtering through the curtains, you found yourself caught in a strange, bittersweet limbo. There was a part of you that wanted to laugh at how absurd it all was—how quickly things had escalated, how out of control it had felt. But there was also a part of you that wanted to cry, to let out the frustration and the hurt that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

You had fallen asleep in Spencer’s arms, his warmth and presence offering a comfort you hadn’t realized you craved so desperately. In those moments, nestled against him, you had felt something—an undeniable emotion, one that was both comforting and terrifying. It was a feeling you weren’t ready to admit, not even to yourself. But it had been there, undeniable and potent.

But now? Now you were alone. The space beside you in the bed was empty, the sheets cold where Spencer had been. He had left, and the realization of that hit you harder than you expected. You sat up slowly, your heart heavy with the weight of what had transpired. The room was eerily quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic outside, and it only amplified the hollowness inside you.

You glanced around, half-expecting to find some sign that he hadn’t really gone, but there was nothing. No note, no trace of him. The memories of the night clung to you, the way he had kissed you, the way he had dominated you, the way he had made you feel. But those memories were all you had left. The reality was that he was gone, and you were left to pick up the pieces of whatever this was.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you tried to make sense of your emotions.  In the end, you took a deep breath and pushed the emotions down, burying them deep where they couldn’t hurt you—at least not right now. There was no time to dwell on what had happened, no time to analyze the why and the how. The team would be leaving soon, and you needed to get ready, to put on the facade of professionalism and normalcy.

—

On the jet ride back to Quantico, you had slipped seamlessly back into your professional persona. You weren’t ignoring Spencer, but you were treating him just like everyone else on the team—polite, distant, focused on the job. The mission had gone well, and the team had hoped that the tension between you and Spencer might have eased after last night. But as the hours passed and you continued to keep your interactions with him strictly business, it became clear that whatever barrier was between you wasn’t going to crumble that easily.

Once back at Quantico, you quickly packed your things at your desk, eager to get home and sleep in your own bed. Hotch had given the team the day off, and everyone had cleared out quickly, tired from the case. The bullpen was nearly empty, save for you and Penelope, who was still working in her batcave.

As you were turning to leave, your thoughts occupied with getting home, Spencer suddenly appeared in front of you, startling you.

“Spencer! Jeez, hi,” you said, your heart skipping a beat at his unexpected presence.

His expression was unreadable, his eyes hard as he looked at you. “How did it feel?” he asked, his voice low and cold.

You blinked, confused. “What?”

“To wake up alone?” he repeated, his tone sharp and biting. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” And with that, he turned on his heel and left the bullpen, leaving you standing there, stunned and reeling from his words.

For a moment, you were too shocked to move, the tears welling up in your eyes as the weight of his accusation sank in. He knew exactly how to cut you, and his words had hit their mark, reopening the wound you had tried so hard to ignore.

“Y/N…?” Penelope’s voice broke through your thoughts, gentle and concerned. She must have heard the exchange, though you hadn’t realized Spencer’s words had carried.

You turned to look at her, the tears spilling over as your emotions finally broke free. You tried to hold them back, to keep it together, but it was no use. The pain, the regret, the guilt—it all came crashing down at once.

“Can I have a hug?” you choked out, your voice trembling.

Penelope didn’t hesitate. She crossed the room in a heartbeat, wrapping you in a warm, comforting embrace. Her arms were strong and steady, grounding you as you let the tears flow. She didn’t ask any questions, didn’t push you to explain. She just held you, letting you cry in the safety of her embrace.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Penelope murmured, rubbing your back soothingly. “You’re not alone. I’m here.”

You clung to her, grateful for the comfort she offered, even as the ache in your chest remained. Spencer’s words still echoed in your mind, a painful reminder of the distance that had grown between you. But for now, in Penelope’s arms, you allowed yourself to grieve—to grieve the connection that had been lost, the pain that had been caused, and the uncertainty of what the future held.

—

The next workday at the Bureau felt oddly normal—too normal. Spencer walked in with a knot in his stomach, dreading what he might face after his outburst the previous day. He knew what he had done was wrong, petty, and incredibly immature. But in the moment, the release had felt good. It had felt like a small, bitter victory, even if it was at your expense.

But as he walked through the bullpen, he couldn’t shake the unease. He hadn’t seen you yet, and the thought of running into you now, after everything, made his chest tighten. He hesitated as he passed the liaison office, taking a deep breath before stealing a glance inside. To his surprise, instead of seeing you, he spotted a familiar blonde head bent over a file.

“JJ?” he said, his voice filled with confusion as he stepped into the doorway.

She looked up with a bright smile, her blue eyes warm and welcoming. “Hey, Spence!”

Spencer blinked, still trying to process what he was seeing. “I thought you were on maternity leave for another month?”

JJ laughed softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I was, but I just had to come back. I was going stir-crazy at home. You know me—I can’t stay away for long.”

“That’s—well, that’s great,” Spencer stammered, caught off guard by her unexpected return. “It’s really good to have you back.”

JJ’s smile softened as she looked at him. “Thanks, Spence. I missed you guys. But don’t worry—I’m not back full-time just yet. I’m just easing back into things.”

Spencer nodded, still trying to wrap his head around the sudden change. “Well, it’s good to see you. We missed you too.”

As they exchanged a few more pleasantries, Spencer’s thoughts kept drifting back to you. If JJ was here, it meant you were probably somewhere else in the building, avoiding the BAU office. The realization filled him with a mix of relief and guilt. He knew he should apologize, should try to make things right, but he wasn’t sure where to begin.

For now, though, he focused on the small comfort of having JJ back. It was a welcome distraction, even if it didn’t erase the tension that still lingered between you and him.

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

tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm @khxna @charismatic-writer @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @noelliece @dreamsarebig

[seoltzuki]

Sunshine

sana x fem reader

fluff

Part two!

She’s a teacher and she flirts, you’re the librarian and you blush!

nayeon, mina, momo, tzuyu and chaeyoung are kids in this! jeongyeon is the integration aide, jihyo is the principal, dahyun is the nurse!

"Miss Sunshine! Miss Sunshine! How was your weekend? How are the baby bunnies in your backyard? Are they okay? Are they eating? Are they getting bigger?"

You smile at the excited little voice that bursts into the library. Without even looking up from the books you're shelving, you know it's Nayeon—and that Sana's class must be right behind her.

"Miss Sunshine!!"

The kids started calling you that all thanks to Sana, who can’t seem to stop flirting with you. She always calls you "Sunshine" whenever she sees you, whether it’s in the hallways, the teachers' lounge, or the library. It didn’t take long for the kids to catch on and make it their own, and now her entire class knows you by that name.

Sana’s playful grin from across the room never fails to make you blush, though you try your best to act unfazed. She leans casually against the doorframe, watching you, waiting for your reaction.

"Hey, Sunshine," she calls softly, just loud enough for you to hear but too quiet for anyone else to catch.

You shoot her a quick glance before going back to placing books on the shelves, doing your best to ignore her teasing.

“Miss Sunshineeeee, the bunnies!” Nayeon whines, huffing dramatically as her tiny hands reach up to tug at your shirt.

You can’t help but smile. Leaning down to her level, Nayeon’s face lights up, her two front teeth proudly on display, and her tongue slipping over the gap where she’s lost a canine. It’s a bit of a mess to look at, but she’s so full of joy that it’s endearing.

“They’re doing very well, Nayeon,” you say, grinning at her excitement. “The babies have opened their eyes!”

Nayeon squeals with delight, immediately running over to Momo and wrapping her in a tight hug before tugging at Mina’s arm. Giggling, she excitedly shares the good news about the baby bunnies with her friends.

You chuckle softly, watching the scene unfold. Momo yawns and sighs, her bangs so long they nearly cover her eyes, while Mina listens intently, smiling shyly and nodding as Nayeon chatters away. The contrast between them makes you grin—Momo, always a bit disheveled and sleepy, and Mina, ever so quiet and attentive.

As you shelve the last book, you notice Sana approaching with her signature confidence. She clears her throat, a playful smile on her lips.

“I was thinking,” she starts, leaning casually against the shelf, “how about we grab a quick coffee in the lounge?”

You roll your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “Sana, you have a class to take care of,” you remind her, glancing over at the group of students scattered around the library.

She leans in a little closer, her voice dropping to a soft murmur. “They’ll survive without me for a few minutes. Plus, I could use a little sunshine to brighten my day.”

You bite back a grin, trying not to give her the satisfaction. “You’ve got an entire class of kids depending on you, Sana,” you repeat, your voice light but firm.

She tilts her head, her eyes locking onto yours with a playful gleam. “Yeah, but none of them are as cute as you.”

You try to suppress a smile, knowing she’s pushing all the right buttons. “You’re going to get in trouble, Miss Minatozaki.”

She shrugs, unfazed. “What’s a little trouble when I get to be with you? We’ll keep the library door open, and I promise we’ll be quick. If anything comes up, I’ll be right back.”

This girl…

"Fine."

Sana’s face brightens, and she grabs your hand, pulling you toward the lounge. But just before you exit the library, she pauses and turns back to the group of kids still scattered around.

“Hey, everyone!” she calls out, her voice warm and bright. “I’m just stepping out for a quick coffee. You all behave while I’m gone, okay?”

A few kids look up, and Chaeyoung, with her braces gleaming, raises her hand. “Miss Minatozaki, can we come too?” Her lisp makes the question even more adorable.

She kneels down, her expression softening. “Oh, Chaeyoung, I’d love that! But I need you all to stay here for a few minutes.”

Chaeyoung pouts for a moment but then brightens. “Okay! But we’ll miss you!”

Sana smiles, her eyes shining with affection. “I’ll miss you too! Just make sure to help each other out while I’m gone, alright? If you all do a good job, I’ll have a surprise for you later!”

“What kind of surprise, Miss Minatozaki?” Many little voices all chime in together.

“Ah, that’s a secret! But if I come back and everything’s gone smoothly, I’ll share it with you,” she giggles, standing up and reaching for your hand again.

Their eyes widen in delight. “Okay! We’ll be super good!”

“I know you will! Just keep an eye on each other, alright? I’ll be back before you know it!”

With that, she leads you out of the library and into the hallway. The sounds of the school fade behind you as the two of you make your way to the staff lounge. It’s quiet when you arrive, the room empty, other than the faint sound of the coffee machine humming in the corner.

Sana moves to the counter with a practiced ease, immediately grabbing two cups. “Caramel macchiato for you, right?” she asks, so familiar.

You blink, surprised. “You know my order?”

She gives you a sideways smile, half-shy, half-playful. “You think I haven’t been paying attention?”

“I didn’t think you noticed the small stuff.”

“I notice everything,” she replies, her eyes flicking to yours before lingering just a little too long. There’s something different in her gaze. It’s soft, but with an intensity that makes you shift on your feet.

Sana steps a little closer, the warmth of her body just barely brushing yours. “You know,” she murmurs, her voice lower now, “you’re not as unreadable as you think.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “What do you mean?”

She tilts her head, a teasing smile curling her lips. “I mean, I’ve been watching you. The way you bite your lip when you’re trying to act all composed, the way your eyes flicker when you think I’m pushing a little too far.”

Your pulse quickens, and you can’t quite find the words to respond. Sana notices your hesitation, her grin widening. She takes another step, close enough now that the scent of her perfume—light and sweet—fills the air between you.

“And the way you’re looking at me right now,” she continues, her voice barely above a whisper, “like you’re trying so hard to keep that guard up.”

Your breath catches in your throat as her eyes trace your face, lingering on your lips for a fraction of a second. She leans in, her voice a soft, teasing purr. “You don’t have to pretend around me, you know.”

“I’m not pretending,” you manage to say, though it comes out weaker than you’d intended.

Sana raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh really? Then what’s stopping you?”

The fact that you flirt with everyone and I’m probably not that special to you.

You open your mouth to answer, but she’s already leaning closer, her breath ghosting against your skin as she speaks again. “You know, I could make it easier for you. If you’d just… let me.”

The room feels warmer. Her fingers brush against yours as she hands you your coffee, her touch lingering, her gaze never wavering from yours. The way she’s looking at you, like she’s daring you to say or do something, makes your heart race.

“I…” You trail off, unsure of how to respond, your mind racing to catch up with what’s happening.

Sana smirks, clearly enjoying your reaction. “See? You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

You’re about to respond—try to salvage what’s left of your composure—but the words are stuck in your throat. The way she’s looking at you, her proximity, the heat of the moment—it’s all too much. Just when you think you might actually combust from the tension between you, the door to the lounge bursts open.

Jihyo storms in, her face etched with frustration, dragging a pale-looking Tzuyu behind her. “Sana!” Jihyo’s voice is sharp, and it immediately cuts through the air between you two.

Both you and Sana jerk back, the flirty atmosphere shattered in an instant. Sana straightens up, blinking as if she’s just been snapped out of a trance. “Jihyo?” she stammers, clearly caught off guard.

“Where the hell were you?” Jihyo demands, her eyes flashing with anger. “Your class has been unsupervised for who knows how long! Tzuyu was sick, and no one was there to help her.”

Tzuyu, standing beside Jihyo, looks unsteady, her skin pale and clammy. She weakly lifts a hand to wave, her voice quivering. “I threw up…”

Sana’s face pales instantly, guilt flooding her features. She rushes forward, concern replacing the flirtatious edge she had moments ago. “Tzuyu, oh my god, are you okay?” She kneels down to Tzuyu’s level, eyes scanning her worriedly.

Tzuyu nods feebly but doesn’t look well. Jihyo crosses her arms, her expression still stormy. “Sana, you can’t just leave your class unsupervised! What if something worse had happened?”

Sana glances back at you, guilt written all over her face. Her confident, teasing demeanor is completely gone now, replaced by genuine worry. “I’m sorry, Jihyo. I—I didn’t think… I’ll take care of this right away.”

Without another word, she turns back to Tzuyu, gently guiding her towards the door. “Come on, let’s get you to the nurse.”

As they leave, Jihyo gives you a hard stare, her disappointment clear. “You too. This isn’t a playground. Don’t let her drag you into this next time.”

You nod, feeling a knot of guilt tighten in your chest as you watch them walk out, the lounge suddenly feeling a lot colder and emptier than before.

~~~

At the nurse’s office, Sana sits on the edge of the desk, watching as Dahyun checks Tzuyu’s temperature. Tzuyu, looking slightly better but still exhausted, is lying down, her eyes half-closed as she rests.

“Her fever’s gone down,” Dahyun says softly, smoothing the blanket over Tzuyu. “She just needs to sleep it off. Her parents will be there soon.”

Sana lets out a sigh of relief, running a hand through her hair. “Thanks, Dahyun. I should’ve been with her earlier…”

Dahyun looks over at her, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Mmm, I heard you were… preoccupied.”

She shifts in her seat, trying to play it cool. “I—uh, yeah, I was just grabbing coffee with—”

Dahyun raises an eyebrow, cutting her off. “With her. Again.” She chuckles, clearly amused by the whole situation. “You really couldn’t wait until after work to flirt, huh?”

Sana feels the heat rush to her cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and defensiveness bubbling up. “It’s not like that! I just wanted to—”

“To what? Casually flirt during work hours like you do every single day?” Dahyun teases, crossing her arms as she leans against the counter. “Come on, Sana. If you really want her, you’re gonna have to step up your game. I mean, you’re smooth and all, but maybe she’s not picking up on it.”

Sana stares at her, confused. “What do you mean? I flirt with her all the time! How much clearer can I be? She has to know by now, right?”

Dahyun shakes her head, laughing softly. “Apparently not. If she knew, she’d probably have made a move by now too, don’t you think? Or maybe she’s just oblivious. Either way, you’re gonna have to do more than your usual teasing.”

Sana frowns, genuinely perplexed. “But I’m always complimenting her, giving her all my attention. How am I supposed to step it up?”

Dahyun giggles again, clearly enjoying this. “Maybe stop trying to make her flustered all the time and just be real with her. Ask her out for real. You know, something that’s not in the middle of a workday with your class waiting on you.”

Sana groans, leaning back in her chair. “But that’s my thing! The flirting, the teasing—it’s how I show I like her.”

Dahyun shrugs. “Yeah, well, maybe she doesn’t get it. You might need to try a different approach, or she’s just going to think you’re playing games forever.”

Sana bites her lip, mulling over Dahyun’s words. Could it really be that simple?

~~~

You sigh, kneeling beside the overturned pot, staring at the dirt and wilted leaves scattered on the floor. "We told Tzuyu to throw up in the plant like we’ve seen in the movies!" Chaeyoung’s lisped explanation echoes in your head, and you still can’t quite believe it. Momo, standing beside her, had nodded solemnly like they’d been performing some sort of public service. Who would’ve thought these kids would take movie scenes so literally?

The plant, unfortunately, looks beyond saving. You sigh again, preparing to toss it out when the soft creak of the library door catches your attention.

“Hey, Sunshine,” Sana’s voice calls gently from behind you.

You turn, finding her leaning in the doorway, her usual playful glint missing from her eyes, replaced by something more caring. There’s a tenderness in the way she approaches you, crossing the room to stand by your side.

“They really told her to throw up in the plant, huh?” she asks, crouching down beside you, her gaze landing on the poor mess.

You nod, letting out a weary chuckle. “Yup. Chaeyoung and Momo were the masterminds behind that one.”

Sana sighs softly, shaking her head in amusement. “Kids.” She reaches out to brush a bit of dirt off the pot, her fingers gentle as she surveys the damage. “Looks like we’re going to need a new plant.”

You give her a small smile. “Yeah, this one’s seen better days. I was just about to throw it out.”

Sana glances at you, her expression soft. “You don’t have to do all this alone, you know. It’s recess. I’ve got time to help clean up.”

You blink, a bit surprised by her offer. “Sana, it’s okay, really. You don’t need to—”

“I want to,” she interrupts. She kneels down next to you, grabbing a rag without hesitation. “Besides, you’ve had a day too. Let me help.”

There’s no teasing in her tone, no flirty banter like usual. Just sincerity. It takes you off guard, making you pause for a second longer than you’d like to admit. You’ve always known Sana as playful, but this side of her feels different—softer, more genuine.

“Well, if you insist,” you finally say. “We can clean up this mess together.”

She smiles, warm and gentle, and for the first time today, the chaos doesn’t feel so overwhelming.

Oh, Sana.

~~~

The staff room is filled with murmurs and the low rustle of papers as everyone takes their seats for the meeting. You sit quietly in the corner, mind still lingering on the events of the day. Sana sits a few chairs away, casually leaning back, though you notice her glancing in your direction now and then. You try not to think too much of it, though the air feels tense, like something big is about to drop.

Jihyo stands at the front, her usual composed self, though there’s an unmistakable tension in her expression. When she finally clears her throat, the room falls silent.

“Thank you all for coming,” she starts, her tone a little heavier than usual. “I wish I had better news, but I’ll get straight to the point. We’re going to be receiving significantly less funding this semester.”

The room goes silent for a beat before the groans start. You feel your stomach drop as whispers grow louder. Jeongyeon, sitting a few rows ahead, is visibly tense, her hands clenching at the edges of the table.

“This is fucking bullshit!” Jeongyeon suddenly shouts, standing up and slamming her hands on the table. “How are we supposed to do our jobs with less money? We barely have enough as it is!”

The room shifts uncomfortably at her outburst, but no one dares to disagree. You feel your heart sinking deeper, anxiety creeping up at the thought of how this will affect the library. Jihyo raises her hands, trying to calm everyone down.

“I know,” Jihyo says, her voice firm but empathetic. “I’m well aware of how difficult this will make things for all of us. But we’re going to have to make cuts. I’m reallocating some of the budget to other departments that are in more immediate need.”

Jeongyeon huffs, dropping back into her seat with a frustrated scowl, but Jihyo continues.

“And unfortunately,” she adds, pausing to look around the room, “the library’s budget is going to be completely cut. The funds will be redistributed to cover the gaps elsewhere.”

You freeze.

Completely cut?

It feels like the room closes in around you as the weight of the news settles in. You try to process the words, but they hit too hard, too fast. All you can think about are the kids—the ones who rely on the library for a quiet space, for books, for learning. The ones who look to you for help and guidance. How are you supposed to do your job with no funding?

You want to say something, to speak up, but the shock has stolen your voice. It’s unfair—not just to you, but to the kids. Your chest tightens, but all you can do is sit there, stunned into silence.

That’s when you hear Sana’s voice cut through the tension. “Wait, hold on a second.”

All eyes turn to her as she stands, her expression serious, but there’s a protectiveness in her tone. “Jihyo, you can’t just cut the library’s funding entirely. That’s going to hurt the students more than anything. They need the library—it’s not just a luxury; it’s essential.”

Jihyo meets her gaze, looking torn but resolute. “I understand that, Sana, but we don’t have the resources. Something has to give.”

Sana shakes her head, stepping forward. “I get that everyone’s under pressure, but cutting the library’s budget completely? That’s not the solution. You’re taking away a vital space for the students. You’ve seen how many kids depend on it every day. How is that fair to them? Or to—” she glances over at you, her eyes softening for a moment “—to the people who work hard to make sure they have that space?”

Your breath catches, realizing she’s speaking up for you, for the library, for the kids. There’s a quiet strength in the way she stands, not backing down.

Jihyo looks conflicted, her hands gripping the edges of the table as she exhales. "We don’t have many options right now, but I hear you, Sana. I’ll see if there’s anything we can do to minimize the cuts. But there will still be sacrifices."

Sana nods, her gaze steady. “I just don’t want the library to disappear because it’s too important. We can’t forget what it means to these kids.”

You glance at Sana, a wave of gratitude swelling in your chest. Even in the middle of the mess, she’s still looking out for you. It’s the first time you’ve felt a little bit of hope since Jihyo dropped the bombshell.

Jihyo gives a tired nod, signaling the end of the conversation for now. “We’ll revisit this later. Thank you, everyone.”

As the room slowly begins to clear, you sit there, still processing. Sana walks over to you, a soft, reassuring smile on her face.

“Don’t worry, Sunshine,” she says gently. “We’ll figure something out. I won’t let them forget how important you are to this school. Or the library.”

~~~

It was another bustling day in the library as Sana’s class visited to pick out new books for the upcoming week. You were cataloging items at your desk, the familiar comfort of your work surrounding you. You spotted Sana in the hallway, animatedly discussing projects with Jeongyeon when a group of five little girls approached you, their eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Miss Sunshine…” they whispered in unison, their tone conspiratorial.

You looked up, curious. “What’s going on?”

Nayeon stepped forward, her expression serious. “I think Miss Sana has butterflies for you.”

You raised your brows, intrigued. “Oh really?”

Chaeyoung nodded vigorously as she added, “Yeah! She has a crush!”

You couldn’t help but smile, leaning in a little closer. “A crush, huh? What makes you say that?”

They all nodded eagerly. Mina leaned in, her voice barely a whisper. “She likes you, Miss Sunshine.”

You leaned forward to catch her words, feeling a warm blush creep onto your cheeks. “She likes me?”

Tzuyu chimed in, “You’re her sunshine. I heard it! She told the nurse!”

You laughed, the warmth in your cheeks growing. “Did she send you all to tell me this?”

Momo yawned, brushing her thick bangs away from her face. “She’s weird. When you walk past our class, she always stops teaching, and it’s not like we’ve been bad. She usually only does that when we’re talking over her!”

You shook your head, amusement dancing in your eyes. “I guess she just can’t help but get distracted by her favorite librarian.”

The girls giggled, their joy contagious.

“What’s so funny?” Sana asked, hands on her hips as she walked closer to the desk.

The girls turned to her, their excitement bubbling over. Nayeon quickly pointed at you. “We were just telling Miss Sunshine that you have butterflies for her!”

Sana raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk appearing on her lips. “Oh really? What gave that away?”

Chaeyoung giggled, “You always stop teaching when she walks by! And your face turns red!”

You felt your cheeks heat as Sana leaned in slightly, her voice low and teasing. “Looks like I can’t hide anything from my favorite little spies,” she said, winking at the girls. “But you all have to keep it a secret! You can’t let my Sunshine know that I like her!”

The girls erupted into giggles, and you couldn’t ignore the flutter in your heart.

They giggled and exchanged glances, clearly thrilled by the little secret they were part of. Nayeon leaned closer to you, “Miss Sunshine, do you like Miss Minatozaki back?”

You felt your heart race and glanced at Sana, who was watching you with a playful smile. “Well, she’s… nice,” you managed to say, your cheeks warming.

Sana feigned surprise, placing a hand on her chest. “Just nice? I was hoping for more than that!”

The girls burst into laughter, their excitement infectious. Tzuyu piped up, “You should tell her you like her, too!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I don’t think it’s that simple.”

Sana stepped closer, her eyes sparkling with something. “Maybe it is,” she said, her tone so incredibly gentle. “You never know unless you try.”

~~~

A few weeks later, the library was dimly lit as you and Sana unpacked boxes of new books, the excitement from the recent funding shift making you both so happy.

Sana leaned in closer, her shoulder brushing against yours as she reached for a book. “You know, I could really help you focus,” she teased, her voice soft and inviting.

You tried to concentrate, but then she pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, lingering just a moment longer. “You look so pretty when you’re deep in thought,” she murmured, her breath warm against your skin.

Flustered, you replied, “Sana, we shouldn’t—”

Before you could finish, she kissed your neck, sending a rush of warmth through you. “Just a little distraction,” she whispered, nibbling playfully at your ear.

You let out a soft laugh, feeling your resolve melt away. “Okay, maybe just a quick break.”

With a bright smile, she pulled back to meet your gaze. “You really are amazing, you know. So smart and talented. So kind to the kids and everyone around. A literal sunshine,” she said, wrapping her arms around your waist and leaning in to place a sweet peck on your lips, a tender touch that left you breathless.

She stepped back, her eyes sparkling with affection, “And I have to thank those little wingwomen for setting this up. They really know how to play matchmaker, don’t they?”

You smiled, your heart swelling. “They’re so adorable and they probably learned that from you, miss flirt.”

Sana giggled. “Maybe. Now let’s get out of here, beautiful. I want to enjoy the rest of the day with you.”

Hand in hand, you walked out of the school, the cool evening air wrapping around you both.

"Come on, my sunshine!"

[enhasntty]

Sunshine And Scowls - YJW

pairing: yang jungwon x f!reader summary: A grumpy university student reluctantly bonds with her cheerful classmate, Jungwon, after he persistently tries to get close. From a group project, to a surprise party. As the two of you become closer, you slowly realize that despite your differences, you might just like him more than you'd care to admit. warnings: Reader calls jungwon a "pain in the ass", they kiss, reader is kind of rude to jungwon and make a lot of sarcastic comments, reader gets jealous, lmk if I forgot anything else genre: Fluff, Grumpy x sunshine word count: 17042 note: I kind of gave up on this so it might seem repetitive but I still wanted to post something today. Please like and reblog and follow!! They are very much appreciated.

Jungwon wasn’t sure what had possessed him to walk out of the library and take a detour to the back of the campus. But there you were, leaning against a brick wall. Your expression was the kind of miserable that made everyone else around you feel guilty for breathing. It was like you were daring the universe to make your day worse, and he, a walking ray of sunshine, had decided to stroll right into it.

He paused a few feet away. You didn’t seem to notice him at first, and for a moment, Jungwon considered turning around. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to deal with someone who looked like they wanted to throw a punch at the next person who spoke.

But no. He was Jungwon. Smiley, always-trying-to-help Jungwon. He had to do something.

He cleared his throat, stepping closer. “Hey, uh, is this seat taken?”

You looked up at him, eyes narrowing slightly, as if he were some kind of stray dog daring to approach. He wasn’t fazed; he had a smile for this kind of situation. He flashed it at you-big, bright, with his dimples poking out just a little, because he knew it was hard to resist.

You didn’t even flinch.

“Seriously, you're gonna try and talk to me now?”

Jungwon blinked. Was that… was that a challenge? He’d been hit with a lot of things before, but that tone? That was next level.

“Uh, yeah?” he said, trying to keep his cool. “I mean, it’s a free country, right?”

“Clearly.” “But I’m not sure ‘freedom’ includes being your therapist.”

He could’ve sworn he saw the ghost of a smile at the corner of your lips, but it was gone so fast he couldn’t be sure. Still, that didn’t stop him from being hopeful.

“Not a therapist,” Jungwon said, his grin widening. “Just a guy looking to not die of boredom on his way back to class.”

You stared at him for a moment. “Right. Because your best idea for curing boredom is me?”

Jungwon let out a small laugh, totally unfazed. “Yeah, I mean, you look like you’ve got a lot going on. Might be fun to… I don’t know… complain about school or something.”

You let out a dry laugh, a mix of sarcasm and bitterness. “Oh, absolutely. Let me tell you about my deeply meaningful relationship with procrastination and the crushing weight of my student loans.”

He chuckled, unable to resist. “Sounds like a good start to me.”

“Trust me,” you said, deadpan, “the only thing I’m invested in right now is my hatred for group projects.”

“That’s… pretty relatable,” Jungwon admitted, looking like he wanted to sit down but wasn’t sure how to breach your fortress of apathy. “But, hey, I’m Jungwon. I’m in the business of-”

“Smiling like an idiot?” you interrupted, your voice flat. “Yeah, I gathered that.”

He was taken aback, but only for a second. He laughed again, the dimples on his cheeks deepening as he grinned. You made it too easy.

“Okay, okay,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I admit, I might smile too much. But it’s better than being, I don’t know, a walking storm cloud.” He leaned against the wall beside you, pretending to adjust his backpack. “You look like you could use a little sunshine in your life.”

You gave him the most unimpressed look. “If I wanted sunshine, I would’ve gone to a beach. This is… campus.”

He squinted at the sky for a moment. “I mean, it’s technically sunny… somewhere, right?”

You shook your head and sighed dramatically. “You’re really persistent. I’ll give you that.”

“And that’s why I'm so amazing,” he teased, his grin stretching wider, clearly enjoying this.

You shot him a look that could’ve melted steel, but Jungwon wasn’t fazed. “Keep dreaming, sunshine,” you muttered. “I’m just here to get through the day without punching anyone.”

“Fair enough,” he said, giving you an exaggerated, overly cheery wave. “Catch you later, then.”

You didn’t even look at him as he walked away, still grinning to himself. The conversation had been weirdly… refreshing. Even if you did look like you wanted to strangle him half the time.

You were absolutely not going to let it bother you.

But as Jungwon disappeared into the distance, you couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take before that annoying, relentless sunshine found its way back to you.

Mornings had never been your thing. In fact, mornings were the embodiment of everything wrong in the universe-especially when you were forced to attend early lectures that made you question why you even bothered getting out of bed in the first place. The clock buzzed way too early, your bed felt way too warm, and the thought of dragging yourself through another day was almost enough to make you reconsider dropping out and living off instant noodles in your dorm room.

But that wasn’t an option. Not yet, anyway.

You stumbled out of bed, your eyes still blurry from the late-night studying (scrolling through tiktok on your phone) and the lack of sleep that seemed to follow you everywhere like an unavoidable cloud of doom. After an agonizingly slow attempt at making yourself somewhat presentable for class, you were finally out the door-barely. The only thing keeping you upright was the steaming cup of coffee in your hand and the hope that the caffeine would somehow revive your spirit.

Of course, fate had other plans.

You turned the corner of the campus quad, your shoes making a slap on the pavement, when a certain pair of dimples appeared in your peripheral vision.

Jungwon. Of course.

He was standing near the entrance of the library, just outside, the sun glinting off his messy hair as he grinned like he had won some sort of award. It was as though he had just been waiting for the perfect moment to talk to you, despite the fact that you had given him zero encouragement to do so in the past week.

You didn’t even try to hide the groan that escaped your lips as you turned away, pretending you hadn’t seen him. Maybe if you ignored him, he would go away.

But no. Jungwon was the type of person who never gave up. Ever.

“Hey! Good morning!” His voice rang through the air, too loud and way too cheery for your liking. His smile was practically blinding, and you could feel the force of his positivity barreling toward you, despite your best efforts to stay hidden.

You pressed your lips together and kept walking, slow and steady, pretending like you didn’t hear him. Maybe if you moved at a pace that made him think you were on a mission, he’d stop following you.

But no. There he was again, stepping in front of you in the most ridiculous way possible, like a puppy that had just learned how to walk and needed constant attention.

“Wait up! Come on, it’s just me,” Jungwon said, his voice laced with that infuriating optimism you could practically feel radiating off him. “You look like you need company today.”

“I look like I need sleep,” you muttered under your breath, hoping he wouldn’t hear you. But knowing him, he probably would.

He did.

“Sleep sounds pretty great,” he agreed, nodding enthusiastically like a little kid who had just gotten a candy bar for breakfast. “But you know what else sounds amazing?”

You were already bracing yourself. You knew this would be some random, probably absurd statement that made absolutely no sense to you, but you had to listen anyway. “What?” you asked flatly, your voice as uninterested as you could make it.

“Coffee!” He beamed at you like he had just come up with the world’s most profound logical answer. “I bet you need some! Want me to get you one from that place near the main building?”

You gave him a side-eye that could’ve sliced through steel. “I have my coffee right here,” you said, holding the cup up just slightly, hoping to make it clear that you didn’t need him to save you.

“But your coffee isn’t from that place,” Jungwon pointed out, raising an eyebrow as though he had caught you in some big lie. “You’ve got the basic stuff. It’s not the good stuff.”

“It’s not ‘basic.’ It’s… functional,” you grumbled, taking another sip to emphasize your point.

He tilted his head, squinting like you had just confused him with your logic. “What’s wrong with basic? I think ‘basic’ coffee is pretty great, too.” He laughed, clearly enjoying himself. “I just… you know, thought you might want something special today. You look like you need something special.”

Your eyes narrowed as you studied his smiling face. “I’m fine, Jungwon. Seriously.”

It was like you had spoken in a foreign language. He simply shrugged and continued his relentless pursuit. “Okay, okay, but you know what else sounds good? A nice, big breakfast. We could grab something from the cafeteria! Pancakes. Eggs. Bacon.” He dragged out the last word with such fervor that you almost believed he was a personal spokesperson for bacon.

But you weren’t in the mood for breakfast food. Or anything really. You just needed to survive this lecture and go back to sleep. “I’m not hungry,” you said again, your tone a little sharper this time.

He didn’t seem to take the hint.

“Are you sure?” Jungwon asked, his eyes sparkling with that unwavering positivity. “I’ve heard that the cafeteria has the best bacon today! And the pancakes-they’re seriously huge. You could probably eat like… five or six.”

That was enough.

You stopped walking, turned to face him fully, and glared. Your patience had worn thin, and it seemed like the coffee hadn’t quite done its magic just yet. “You’re honestly insufferable,” you said, barely keeping your voice down. “What makes you think I want to talk to you right now? Do you enjoy making people uncomfortable on purpose?”

Jungwon blinked, a little taken aback by your sudden sharpness. But, as always, he recovered quickly. His dimples deepened as he gave you that smile again, this time not so much innocent but more like he was genuinely amused by your lack of enthusiasm.

“I mean, you look like you could use someone to talk to,” he said cheerfully. “I’m just trying to help out! I get that mornings aren’t your thing, but hey, you don’t have to go through the day alone.” He beamed, clearly proud of his attempt to be the “good guy” here.

You could feel your eye twitching. “What makes you think I need help? I don’t need anything from you, Jungwon,” you said dryly. “Except maybe a little distance. I mean, seriously, can you just let me go to class in peace? I don’t have the mental energy to fight through whatever this is.”

You pointed to him, your finger jabbing the air as though you were physically trying to push him out of your way. “You’re like a walking sunbeam, and it’s too much for me right now.”

Jungwon’s grin only widened at the jab. He took a half step back, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, I get it,” he said, still laughing under his breath. “But hey, I’m just trying to make your day a little brighter, y’know?”

“Yeah,” you deadpanned. “Well, maybe you should try dimming it down a bit. You’re like a human lightbulb.”

His eyes twinkled at your sarcasm, and for a moment, you almost felt like he was enjoying being the target of your frustration. “I’ll take that as a compliment. If I’m a lightbulb, then I’m the energy-efficient kind, right? So I’m not too much.”

You exhaled deeply, your patience having completely evaporated as you stared at the bright-eyed idiot in front of you. “I’m going to class, Jungwon,” you said, your voice flat. “And you’re not coming with me.”

“But why?” he asked, looking almost genuinely puzzled by the idea that you might not want him tagging along.

“Because,” you said, turning your back on him with a sigh of finality, “I’d rather face a thousand group projects than have to listen to your chipper morning commentary.”

You heard a burst of laughter behind you, followed by the sound of footsteps trailing after you. “Fair enough! But hey, maybe I can catch you after class?”

“No,” you snapped, turning just enough to shoot him a glare over your shoulder.

But as Jungwon continued to follow you-his grin still there, like a damn puppy who had just been fed-he made one thing painfully clear: there was no escaping his relentless, absurdly cheerful presence.

And, for the first time in your life, you almost wished there was.

You weren’t sure if it was the universe’s cruel joke or just Jungwon’s unyielding persistence that landed him next to you in class. But there he was, sitting down beside you like he had some sort of permanent claim to your space. It wasn’t even the first time he had done this-he had a habit of showing up wherever you were, like an overenthusiastic puppy that had somehow learned to operate on your schedule. It was like a cursed game of hide and seek, except there were no winners.

You didn’t even try to hide the way you glared at him as he settled in next to you. It wasn’t personal, well, maybe it was a little, but you were just so damn tired. The last thing you wanted in your already draining lecture was the relentless force of sunshine that was Jungwon. Couldn’t he pick someone else to grace with his presence for once?

“Good morning!” he said, his voice annoyingly cheerful as he dropped his bag next to his seat.

You didn’t respond, hoping your silence would be enough to communicate your feelings. It wasn’t.

“Man, you really look tired,” he said, his gaze flicking to your slouched posture. He had no filter, not that you were surprised. “I mean, it’s not even halfway through the lecture yet and you look like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

That was because you would rather be anywhere else. But instead of letting him see you crumble under the weight of another too-early class, you rolled your eyes and pulled your notes in front of you, trying your best to ignore him.

“Yeah, well, mornings are evil,” you muttered under your breath, more to yourself than to him.

Jungwon didn’t miss a beat. “Evil? That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” He smiled, wide and innocent, as though he had never seen a single evil thing in his life. You could almost hear the ‘naive sunshine’ soundtrack playing in the background.

You tilted your head slightly to the side, glaring at him. “Oh, I’m sorry, was that too much for your pure heart to handle?”

He chuckled, clearly unfazed by your sarcasm. “No, no, it’s just… I think I like your grumpiness. It’s… endearing.”

You snorted, making no attempt to hide your disbelief. “Endearing? Really? Are we in some weird romantic comedy, or did I just time travel to a parallel universe where sarcasm is considered cute?”

“Hey, I didn’t say it was adorable or anything,” he said, leaning a little closer as if sharing some deep, world-changing secret. “But I’m definitely entertained.”

“Great, I’m here for your amusement,” you shot back, your voice dripping with dry humor. “I’ll put that on my résumé.”

He didn’t even seem to register the sarcasm. Instead, he leaned back in his seat with that unrelenting, radiant smile. You could practically feel the warmth of his personality radiating in every direction. How was he this… constant?

You shook your head and tried to focus on the lecture, but of course, your mind kept drifting back to him. Jungwon, the human equivalent of a puppy, was sitting there beside you, his smile still wide, his eyes still sparkling, and the dimples on his cheeks were like little magnets, pulling your attention even when you tried to look away.

And it was annoying. God, it was so annoying.

“It’s your fault for being so cute,” he said suddenly, making your stomach lurch and your eyes narrow in irritation.

Your pen clattered loudly on the desk as you swiveled in your chair to face him. “Did you just call me cute? Are you for real right now?”

He nodded, completely unfazed. “I mean, you kind of are. Even when you’re all grumpy.”

You deadpanned, barely able to keep a straight face. “You have absolutely no idea what you’re saying, do you?”

“I know exactly what I’m saying.” His grin stretched impossibly wider, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes once more. You couldn’t help it. How was it possible for someone to be so irritatingly cheerful? You were so tired, and he was just… there-and his constant optimism was like a slap in the face.

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You just don’t know how to take a compliment, do you?”

You crossed your arms, already feeling the familiar tension between you start to build. “You’re an absolute menace. I’m convinced that’s your only purpose in life-to annoy the hell out of me.”

“Well,” Jungwon said thoughtfully, glancing around the classroom, “if that’s true, then I’m definitely succeeding.” He looked back at you with that same, ever-present smile. “But you’re kind of fun to mess with.”

“Fun?” you asked, narrowing your eyes. “Are you kidding me? I’m the human equivalent of a bad mood, and you want to mess with me?”

He shrugged as though this wasn’t news to him. “Yeah, but that’s why it’s fun. You’re like… a grumpy cat.” He poked your shoulder lightly, making your body stiffen involuntarily.

“Do not call me a cat,” you growled under your breath. “I’m not cute. I’m not soft. I don’t even like cats.”

Jungwon’s face lit up like he had just won a prize. “See? There’s that fire! I love it.” He leaned back, clearly proud of himself. “I’m not giving up on you, you know.”

You stared at him, dead-eyed. “I wish you would.”

“Not gonna happen,” he said cheerfully, tapping his fingers rhythmically on his notebook. “I mean, you need me. You just don’t know it yet.”

“Yeah, because that’s exactly what I need-more of your… sunshine in my life,” you grumbled, sinking into your seat as though it could absorb all your frustration. You couldn’t even tell if you were genuinely annoyed anymore or if it was just a reflex at this point.

“I don’t know about you,” Jungwon said, suddenly serious, “but I think you’d be a lot less grumpy if you didn’t fight the sunshine so much. You need to take a step back and enjoy life a little more.”

The words hit you in a way that made you freeze. You didn’t expect him to say something like that. Not after all the teasing, the relentless optimism. But there it was-his absurdly sincere comment, like he’d been thinking about it all day.

You blinked, trying to cover up the sudden flutter of irritation mixed with something else. You weren’t sure what it was, but you weren’t about to admit that Jungwon had somehow managed to get under your skin in a way no one else had.

“Whatever, Jungwon,” you muttered, turning your attention back to the front of the class. “Just focus on whatever ridiculously happy thought you’re thinking right now.”

“Okay, okay,” he said with exaggerated seriousness. “But just know, I’m here for you. In case you ever need someone to drag you out of your grumpy little cave.”

“God, you are relentless,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

Jungwon chuckled under his breath, probably feeling like he had just won the world’s hardest battle. “If it makes you feel better, I think I might just be the only person who could handle your sarcasm.”

You turned to glare at him once more, but this time, there was something different in his expression. His smile wasn’t as bright or as teasing as before. It was softer, a little more sincere, though still laced with the kind of charm that made it impossible for you to stay mad at him for long.

And maybe that was the problem. Because even when you tried to hate him, it was hard to ignore the way your heart gave a little flutter when he smiled. Or the way you felt just a tiny bit lighter in his presence.

But you weren’t going to admit any of that. Not today. Not when the day was already too long and the lecture was only just beginning.

You didn’t know how it happened. One minute, you were minding your own business, trying to ignore the fact that you had an insane amount of work piling up for the week. The next, you were standing next to Jungwon, trying to suppress the overwhelming urge to knock your head against the desk in front of you.

“Guess we’re partners for the project,” Jungwon said, a grin spreading across his face like he had just won the lottery. “Isn’t that awesome?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, the tiny flutter of dread in your stomach slowly growing into full-blown anxiety. You could already feel your energy being drained just by his presence. You had been hoping for a solo project, but here you were-stuck with the human embodiment of a golden retriever on a caffeine high.

“Yeah,” you said flatly, “I’m absolutely thrilled.”

Jungwon chuckled, his eyes sparkling with that unrelenting positivity. “I knew you’d say that! You’re just so easy to predict, y’know?”

“Am I?” You crossed your arms and leaned back in your chair. “Well, let me guess, you’re going to make terrible jokes while I do all the work, right?”

“Hey!” He said with mock offense. “I’m a great partner. I can help lighten the mood, okay? I’m good at that. You’re just… stressed out. That’s all.” He gave you a small, encouraging smile that, for the thousandth time, didn’t quite help ease the anxiety you were feeling.

You deadpanned. “You’re a walking headache.”

His grin didn’t falter. In fact, it seemed to only widen, those dimples of his becoming deeper and more pronounced as he laughed. “Hey, I try to be funny, alright? I’m just here to make your day a little less boring.”

A deep sigh escaped your lips as you stared at your laptop screen, trying to force yourself to focus on the research in front of you. But Jungwon wouldn’t stop. Not even for a second.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye as he fiddled with his phone, clearly not doing anything remotely related to the project. He had that look-the one that said, “I’m here for moral support,” but you knew better. The last thing he was contributing to this project was anything remotely useful.

“You know,” Jungwon said after a brief pause, “I’ve always thought group projects would be better if there was a built-in joke timer. Like every five minutes, someone has to tell a joke or make everyone laugh.”

“Oh, yeah, great idea,” you muttered sarcastically. “Because the last thing we need right now is a comedy break while I’m drowning in work.”

“I mean,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “we could always take a break. A quick one. Just for a couple minutes. You know, to get our creative juices flowing.”

You stared at him blankly. “The only thing flowing right now is my blood pressure. And the only thing I need to do is finish this project before I implode.”

“You’re so dramatic,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s honestly kind of cute. Like, you’re mad, but you’re still, you know, adorable.”

“Adorable?” You glared at him, completely unimpressed. “Did you just call me adorable?”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant that you’ve got that… tough exterior, but it’s clear you’ve got a soft side somewhere. It’s just buried under all that sarcasm.”

“Jungwon,” you growled, your patience wearing thin, “I’m not ‘adorable,’ and I don’t have a ‘soft side.’ I’m just trying to survive this project with my sanity intact.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You really need to take a deep breath, okay? Maybe try a few stretches or something. I can show you some yoga moves. They really help relieve stress.”

The thought of Jungwon doing yoga with his annoyingly good-natured attitude sent a strange wave of disbelief through you. “Do you ever shut up?” you asked, staring at him with wide eyes. “You’re like a chatterbox on caffeine.”

His dimples deepened as he laughed again. “I just can’t help it. You’re too fun to mess with.”

You rubbed your temples, the headache beginning to form in earnest. “I think you’re the one who needs a time-out, not me.”

“Yeah, but time-outs are for people who aren’t fun,” he said, completely ignoring the sarcasm in your tone. “And I’m having way too much fun right now. It’s not my fault you’re a workaholic, you know. I mean, I’m just here trying to keep things light.”

Your gaze flicked back to your laptop, where you had barely managed to type a few lines of your report. The words were blurring together, and all you could hear was Jungwon’s relentless banter.

“You’re honestly a disaster,” you said, unable to hold back your frustration. “I could’ve done this project in half the time without you distracting me.”

“Aw, come on,” he said, flashing that infectious smile of his again. “It’s not that bad. We’re making memories! Think of it as character development. And besides, you’re definitely going to miss me when it’s over.”

“Yeah, no. I’ll be happy to never see you again after this project is done.”

Jungwon’s smile softened. He leaned closer, his voice taking on a more serious tone-well, as serious as Jungwon could get. “You know, you really don’t give yourself enough credit. I’m telling you, you’re doing great. And hey, I’m not going anywhere. You’ve got me stuck for the rest of this project.”

Your eyes narrowed in warning. “Don’t remind me.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, raising his hands defensively. “I’ll give you space to do your thing. But when this is over, I’m taking you out for something good. Food, coffee, whatever you want. I’m getting you something to reward your hard work.”

You exhaled, dragging your hand through your hair as you let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t need rewards. I need peace.”

Jungwon grinned, leaning back in his chair like a contented cat. “Well, you know where I’ll be when you change your mind.”

You slumped in your chair, staring at the screen, all the while wishing you could just somehow disappear from this situation. But as much as you hated to admit it, there was a strange comfort in the way Jungwon wouldn’t stop. He was like an annoying, cheerful force of nature, and despite the exhaustion and frustration building inside you, part of you couldn’t help but feel a little lighter when he was around.

The problem was, you didn’t want to admit that. Not yet. Not when you were still drowning in work.

The group presentation had been a disaster, as expected.

It wasn’t that Jungwon hadn’t tried-he had, in his own overly cheerful, mildly chaotic way. But he’d been so busy cracking jokes and trying to keep the energy light that he had completely fumbled the key points you’d painstakingly outlined. By the time the professor dismissed the class, you were practically vibrating with barely contained frustration.

“Seriously, Jungwon?” you said as soon as you both stepped out of the lecture hall. The words spilled out, sharp and cutting. “I gave you two things to do. Two. And you still managed to mess it up.”

He winced, scratching the back of his neck. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I just got… nervous, I guess.”

“Nervous?” you repeated, incredulous. “You’re never nervous. You’re like a walking embodiment of confidence. How does someone like you even get nervous?”

“I don’t know!” he said defensively, his dimples making an appearance despite his flustered state. “It’s not like I planned to screw up, okay?”

You groaned, “Unbelievable.”

Jungwon trailed after you as you headed toward the courtyard, his footsteps quick and purposeful. “Hey, come on. Cut me some slack, would you?”

“Cut you slack?” you repeated, rounding on him. “You’re the reason we probably just tanked our grade! Do you even care about this class?”

“Of course I care!” he said, his voice rising slightly. His usually sunny expression was replaced with something more serious, though the dimples didn’t entirely disappear. “And I care about you, too!”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and unshakable.

You froze, your eyes narrowing as you stared at him. “What?”

Jungwon looked like he wanted to disappear into the ground. His ears turned bright red, and he shifted uncomfortably under your gaze. “I-uh… I said I care about you,” he repeated, quieter this time.

You took a long pause. “What’s your point?”

“My point is…” He faltered, running a hand through his hair. “I like you, okay? Like, really like you.”

You stared at him, your face unreadable. Then you let out a short, dry laugh. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m not joking,” he said, his voice steady despite the obvious nerves in his expression. “I’ve liked you for a while now.”

“Wow,” you said flatly. “You sure know how to pick your moments, don’t you?”

“I couldn’t hold it in anymore!” he said, throwing his hands up. “You’re always so… so you. And I like that, even if you drive me insane sometimes.”

“Great. So now you’re in love with your biggest critic.”

Jungwon sighed, running both hands through his hair in frustration. “Why do you have to make everything so difficult?”

“Because that’s who I am,” you replied, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “If you wanted easy, you should’ve fallen for someone else.”

“I don’t want someone else,” he said, stepping closer. “I want you. Even when you’re mad at me. Even when you make me feel like I’m the dumbest person alive. I still want you.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his intensity. For once, he wasn’t smiling, and his dimples were nowhere in sight. It was unnerving.

“Look,” you said, finally breaking the silence. “I don’t know what you expect me to say to that. I’m not exactly girlfriend material, Jungwon. I’m… complicated.”

“So what?” he said, his voice softening. “I like complicated.”

You stared at him, trying to find some trace of insincerity in his face. But he was Jungwon-annoyingly earnest, painfully sweet, and completely sincere.

“You’re an idiot,” you said, but there was no real bite to your words.

“Maybe,” he said, his dimples reappearing as his lips curved into a small smile. “But I’m your idiot.”

“Don’t push your luck,” you muttered, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at your lips.

And for the first time that day, the tension in your chest began to ease.

It started as a drizzle during your last lecture of the day. By the time you were shoving your books into your bag and stomping out of the building, the rain had graduated to a steady downpour. Great. Just great. Because, of course, life wasn’t content to leave you with the mess of the group project disaster earlier-it had to soak you to the bone on your way home too.

You pulled your hoodie over your head, muttering curses under your breath as the rain instantly began to seep through the fabric. The sidewalks were slick, puddles forming in every dip and crevice, and the wind cut through your damp clothes like it had a personal vendetta.

As you rounded the corner toward the library to make the miserable walk back to your apartment, you spotted him. Jungwon, standing under the overhang of the library entrance, holding an umbrella that looked far too small for anyone’s actual use.

“Hey!” he called out, waving with his free hand, that familiar grin spreading across his face. Even from a distance, you could see the dimples making their inevitable appearance. He jogged toward you, somehow managing not to slip on the wet pavement.

You groaned inwardly. “What are you doing here?”

“Walking you home,” he said cheerfully, falling into step beside you.

You stopped dead in your tracks, staring at him like he’d just offered to carry you on his back. “Why?”

“Because it’s raining,” he said matter-of-factly, as though that explained everything.

“Wow, thanks for the weather report,” you deadpanned. “But I’m fine. I don’t need an escort.”

“Maybe you don’t,” he said, tilting his head with that infuriatingly bright smile still plastered on his face. “But I do. What if I go home and find out tomorrow that you got struck by lightning or slipped and fell into a storm drain? I’d feel awful.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling your hoodie tighter around you. “I’d feel awful for whoever had to drag me out of the storm drain.”

Jungwon laughed, his dimples deepening. “See? This is why I’m here-to make sure none of that happens. Now, come on.”

He held the umbrella over you, but it barely covered your head and left half of him exposed to the rain. You gave him a withering look. “That thing’s useless.”

“It’s better than nothing,” he said, completely unfazed. “And besides, this way, at least one of us stays kind of dry.”

“Guess which one of us that won’t be,” you muttered, glancing at his soaked sleeve and the rain dripping from his hair.

“I’m fine,” he said breezily, as though he hadn’t just been doused in freezing water. “Come on, let’s go.”

You reluctantly started walking, muttering under your breath about how stupid this all was. The umbrella wasn’t helping much, and within minutes, your jeans were clinging uncomfortably to your legs, and your sneakers squelched with every step.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked after a few minutes of silence, your voice louder than necessary to be heard over the rain.

“Doing what?”

“Walking me home. Getting soaked. Being… you.”

Jungwon shrugged, shifting the umbrella to try (and fail) to cover you both better. “Because I want to. And because it feels right.”

You snorted. “You’re a walking Hallmark card, you know that?”

“Yeah, but I’m your Hallmark card,” he said, flashing you another grin that somehow managed to look just as bright in the rain as it did in the sun.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you grumbled, though your cheeks warmed despite the cold rain.

The walk stretched on, and though you continued to complain about the rain, about your wet clothes, about the puddles that seemed to appear just in time for you to step in them, you couldn’t help but notice how Jungwon didn’t stop smiling. Even when he stumbled into a particularly deep puddle, soaking his shoes completely, he just laughed and shook it off.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, shaking your head as he tried (and failed) to wring out the edge of his sleeve while still holding the umbrella.

“Ridiculously charming?” he offered.

“Ridiculously annoying.”

“Same thing.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a faint smile tugging at your lips that you were pretty sure he didn’t miss.

By the time you reached your apartment, both of you were thoroughly soaked, the umbrella abandoned somewhere along the way after a gust of wind turned it inside out. You paused under the awning of your building, your teeth chattering slightly as you reached into your bag for your keys.

“Well,” Jungwon said, running a hand through his dripping hair. “That was fun, huh?”

“If by ‘fun,’ you mean ‘miserable,’ then sure,” you replied, unlocking the door.

“You’re welcome for the company, by the way,” he said, those dimples making another maddening appearance.

You sighed, leaning against the doorway and giving him an exasperated look. “Why do you keep doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Being… you,” you said, gesturing vaguely at him. “Showing up. Sticking around. Putting up with me.”

“Because I like you,” he said simply, his smile softening but never faltering. “And because even when you’re grumpy and mean and complain about everything, I’d rather be here with you than anywhere else.”

You stared at him for a long moment, unsure how to respond. Finally, you rolled your eyes and stepped inside. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re worth it,” he called after you, that infuriating smile still plastered on his face.

You didn’t slam the door in his face like you probably should have. Instead, you lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching as he turned and jogged back into the rain, his hair already plastered to his forehead.

You sighed, shaking your head as you closed the door behind you. “Idiot,” you muttered, though your lips curved into a small, reluctant smile.

It started with a joke. A stupid joke.

You were sitting under the usual tree in the courtyard, nursing a fresh cup of coffee and enjoying the rare moment of peace. The rain from the other day had cleared, leaving behind that annoyingly perfect, crisp autumn air that made everyone else on campus insufferably cheerful. Naturally, that included Jungwon.

“Good morning!” he chirped, appearing out of nowhere like a golden retriever with boundless energy. He plopped down next to you, entirely uninvited, holding two chocolate croissants in a paper bag.

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

“Breakfast,” he said, handing you one.

You took it begrudgingly. “If this is an apology for the group presentation, I’m not forgiving you.”

“Noted,” he said, biting into his croissant like he hadn’t just made a complete fool of himself in front of your entire class last week. “But no, it’s not an apology. I just figured you’d skip breakfast again, and I couldn’t let you starve.”

You rolled your eyes, but you still took a bite. It was annoyingly good. “What are you, my mom?”

“No,” Jungwon said with a grin, his dimples on full display. “But I am your boyfriend, so…”

You choked on your croissant, coughing loudly as you waved him off. “What?”

He blinked innocently. “You said we were dating, remember?”

You froze, your mind racing back to that stupid, stupid joke you’d made the other day after he’d walked you home in the rain.

“You’re so clingy, we might as well be dating,” you’d said, half-laughing, half-exasperated. At the time, it had felt like a throwaway comment. Something sarcastic, just to mess with him. You hadn’t thought he’d actually believe it.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands. “You seriously took that seriously?”

“Well, yeah,” Jungwon said, his voice light and casual, like this was the most normal conversation in the world. “You said it, so I figured you meant it.”

You stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. “You… thought we were actually dating? Like, for real?”

“Why not?” he said, shrugging as his dimples deepened. “I mean, we spend a lot of time together, you’re always yelling at me like an old married couple, and I do like you, so it just… made sense.”

You were at a complete loss for words. What the hell were you supposed to say to that?

“Jungwon,” you began slowly, trying to keep your tone even. “We’re not actually dating. I was joking.”

“Oh,” he said, his expression faltering slightly. Then, as if on cue, his smile returned, brighter than ever. “Well, we could date for real, if you want.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “I don’t even know what to do with you.”

“Accept my love and devotion?” he offered, leaning back on his hands and grinning at you.

“I didn’t know we were in a relationship,” you teased, smirking as you took another bite of the croissant.

“You didn’t know? Huh. I must’ve forgotten to propose,” he said, his tone laced with faux seriousness.

“Do it now and see how fast I run,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Noted,” he said again, but his dimples stayed put, and his gaze didn’t waver.

That should’ve been the end of it. But, of course, it wasn’t.

Over the next few days, Jungwon leaned way too far into the “boyfriend” joke. He started holding doors open for you everywhere, pulling out chairs in the cafeteria, and even carrying your bag when he saw you struggling under the weight of your books.

“Seriously?” you said one afternoon as he grabbed your bag off your shoulder without so much as a warning. “What are you, my personal porter now?”

“Just being a good boyfriend,” he said cheerfully, slinging the bag over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.

You sighed. “We are not dating.”

“Tell that to your heart,” he teased, earning himself a sharp glare.

The worst part was how unbothered he looked through all of it. Whether you scowled at him, rolled your eyes, or outright told him to stop, Jungwon just smiled back at you, those damn dimples deepening with every interaction.

One day, after class, he even showed up with a coffee in one hand and a small bouquet of flowers in the other.

“What’s this?” you asked, eyeing the flowers like they might attack you.

“Just thought you deserved something nice,” he said, holding them out. “Boyfriend duties, you know?”

You took the flowers begrudgingly, feeling both flattered and incredibly annoyed. “You’re exhausting.”

“And you’re worth it,” he replied without missing a beat.

You hated how warm his words made you feel.

Later that night, as you sat on your bed staring at the flowers in their makeshift vase (a coffee mug you’d forgotten to wash), you found yourself smiling.

You didn’t like birthdays.

It wasn’t that you hated the idea of celebrating a year passing or anything, but it was the attention. The forced smiles, the awkward small talk, the need to pretend to be thrilled when someone handed you a gift you’d never use. It was always a mess of half-forced excitement and too many expectations for something that should’ve just been an ordinary day.

So, naturally, when Jungwon mentioned “surprising you with something special” for your birthday, you’d assumed it was a joke.

“I don’t want anything, really,” you told him, waving off his persistent inquiries. “I’m not big on birthdays.”

“Okay, okay,” he’d said with a grin, his dimples making a rare but welcome appearance. “I won’t go overboard. I promise.”

Of course, you should’ve known better than to trust Jungwon. When does he ever go small?

The day of your birthday, you arrived home from class to find a single text from him: “Be at my place at 7. No excuses!”

You frowned, sitting down on your bed, trying to figure out what this was about. Your first thought was that it might just be dinner. A small hangout with just him, an idea you didn’t entirely mind. After all, he’d become kind of a constant presence in your life, whether you wanted him there or not.

But at 7 p.m., you knocked on Jungwon’s apartment door, your arms crossed defensively and an eyebrow quirked, expecting the usual antics. What you weren’t expecting was the chorus of “SURPRISE!” that greeted you as the door swung open.

Jungwon stood there, his grin wider than ever, dimples shining through with his enthusiasm. Behind him, you could see a group of people-some familiar faces from class, others complete strangers. All of them had birthday hats on, holding drinks or snacks, and looking entirely too cheerful for your liking.

Your stomach dropped.

“Surprise!” Jungwon repeated, practically bouncing on his heels. “I told you it’d be a party!”

“I-” You blinked, caught completely off guard. “What is this? Why is everyone here?”

Jungwon shrugged, still grinning like the sunshine he was. “It’s your birthday! You have to have a party. I couldn’t let you just spend it alone. That’s not how this works.”

You stared at him for a long moment. “I told you I didn’t want anything.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to give you something special,” he said, stepping aside to let you in. “Trust me, I’ll make sure it’s not too much.”

You tried to suppress a groan but failed miserably as you stepped into the apartment, your eyes scanning the crowd of unfamiliar faces. You weren’t sure if you should be annoyed or impressed by how much effort Jungwon had put into this. The streamers were too bright, the music too loud, and the smell of overcooked pizza filled the air. But despite all of that, something about it made you feel… almost warm.

“Okay, fine,” you muttered, more to yourself than anyone else. “I’m here. Happy now?”

“Very happy!” Jungwon said, his smile practically blinding as he led you toward the middle of the room. “I got cake, snacks, and everything you could need to have the best birthday ever. Everyone’s been talking about how excited they are to meet you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Meet me? We’re barely even friends.”

“Well,” Jungwon said, his voice dropping in that teasing way that made you half-annoyed and half-amused, “I think you underestimate how many people want to be around you.”

“Yeah, sure,” you muttered, but your gaze softened when you saw the way he was looking at you. Jungwon was too damn cute, his dimples practically begging you to forgive him for throwing this entire thing together without asking you first.

A few minutes later, after an awkward round of hellos to people you barely knew, you were sitting in the corner with Jungwon, a plate of pizza in your hands and a suspiciously large piece of cake in front of you. You tried to look annoyed, but it was hard with Jungwon sitting next to you, still practically glowing with excitement.

“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind for a birthday,” you admitted, biting into a slice of pizza. “But I guess I can’t be mad when you’re this cute about it.”

He grinned, dimples deepening. “So, you’re saying I’m cute?”

“Ugh, don’t make me say it again,” you muttered, but you were smiling now, despite yourself.

“Deal!” Jungwon said happily, leaning back in his chair. “I’m just glad you’re here. And I know you’re pretending to hate this, but you’re secretly loving it, right?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped out. “I’m not loving it. But it’s… tolerable.”

He let out a dramatic sigh of relief. “Well, that’s all I need to hear.”

As the night went on, Jungwon kept hovering around you, offering to refill your drink, dragging you into random conversations with his friends, and making sure you were never left alone for too long. You could tell he was trying to gauge how you were feeling, how much you were enjoying yourself. And, much to your own frustration, you realized you were actually starting to enjoy it.

You weren’t thrilled about the party itself, but you were warmed by how much effort he’d put in just to make sure you weren’t left to sulk by yourself. Jungwon wasn’t your type, not by a long shot but he was undeniably kind. And somewhere between the laughter and the weirdly bad karaoke (courtesy of some overenthusiastic freshman), you found yourself appreciating him a little more than you’d like to admit.

Later, as the party started winding down, Jungwon pulled you aside. “Hey,” he said quietly, looking almost shy for the first time all night. “I really hope you had a good time. I know this wasn’t exactly what you expected, but I just wanted to make sure your day was special.”

You looked at him, suddenly realizing how genuinely happy he was to see you here, despite all your grumbling. His dimples were in full force, and for a second, you were at a complete loss for words.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, but your voice lacked any real bite.

“Ridiculously charming?” he asked, his tone hopeful.

You rolled your eyes, but your heart wasn’t quite in it. “Sure, whatever. Just… don’t ever do this again without asking first.”

Jungwon smiled, that grin of his practically reaching his ears. “I’ll take it. I’m just glad you’re here, even if it was a surprise.”

You didn’t say anything back. Instead, you just stood there for a moment, letting the warmth of the room-and the inexplicable warmth you felt toward him-sink in.

The night had dragged on forever. The endless clacking of your keyboard felt like a constant drumbeat in the back of your mind, driving you closer to insanity with each passing minute. Jungwon had been sitting across from you in the library for hours now, his presence a mix of distraction and comfort as you both struggled through the assignment that loomed over you.

“Can you stop tapping your pen?” you finally snapped, glaring over the top of your laptop. “I swear you’ve been doing that for the last fifteen minutes.”

Jungwon blinked at you innocently. “Sorry! Just thinking.” He immediately stopped the pen tapping, but you could tell from the way he was looking at you that he was far from focused on the assignment.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “We’re never going to finish this if you keep making weird noises.”

“Sorry, I’m trying.” He grinned, his dimples deepening with the smile. It was almost impossible to stay mad at him when he looked like that, but you weren’t about to tell him that.

The clock ticked on, and the library started to empty. One by one, students packed up their things and left, leaving you and Jungwon alone in the quiet, dimly lit room. The only sounds now were the occasional rustle of paper and the quiet hum of the air conditioning.

You glanced at the clock. It was nearly 3 AM. You had barely written a full page. Your eyes were starting to blur from exhaustion, and the task at hand felt like an insurmountable mountain.

“Want to take a break?” Jungwon asked, his voice unusually soft.

You shot him a look, a mixture of disbelief and irritation. “We can’t take a break. We’re so far behind.”

“I know, I know,” he said with a sigh, leaning back in his chair. “But I’m starting to think that this assignment was created just to make us miserable. There’s no way it’s this difficult for everyone else.”

“It’s definitely designed to crush our spirits,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair. “And I’m pretty sure you’re part of the problem.”

“Hey!” He laughed, but it was a little strained, his usual cheerfulness slipping just slightly. “I’m just trying to keep you company, that’s all.”

You groaned, turning back to your laptop. “Company? That’s what we’re calling it now?”

“Yep,” Jungwon said, his tone suddenly more serious. The shift was subtle, but it caught your attention. “I’m really glad you’re here, actually. I know you don’t think so, but I enjoy spending time with you, even when you’re yelling at me about my pen tapping.”

You snorted. “Yell at you? Please. I’m just trying to stay sane.”

“I don’t mind it,” he said quietly. “Really.”

You paused, finally looking up from your screen, meeting his gaze. His smile was gone, replaced with that look of earnestness that you rarely saw from him. Jungwon was usually so full of energy, always joking around, always so bright. But right now, the dimples weren’t enough to mask the vulnerability in his eyes.

“What?” you asked, voice much softer now, a little suspicious.

“I… I like you,” Jungwon said, his words coming out faster than he probably intended. “Like, a lot. I’ve liked you for a while now. And I don’t think I can just keep it to myself anymore.”

Your breath caught in your throat. This was so typical of him-so sudden, so earnest, with no warning at all. But the way he was looking at you made it hard to ignore. You had to admit, somewhere deep down, you did like him too, but the idea of admitting it out loud… that felt like a huge leap.

“So… you’ve been pining for me in the background this whole time?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light despite the sudden knot in your stomach.

“Yeah,” he said, almost shy now, his dimples barely visible. “Pretty much.”

You stared at him for a long time, trying to figure out if this was some weird joke or if he was actually serious. But there was no way he could be joking-his expression said everything. He wasn’t playing around. He really liked you.

And, for some reason, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to laugh it off.

You sighed heavily, running a hand through your hair again. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

Jungwon’s face fell just a little, as though he wasn’t sure whether to take you seriously or not. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you can’t just… say things like that and expect me to just… go along with it.” You paused, glancing down at your screen, avoiding his eyes. “It’s not that simple, Jungwon.”

“I know,” he said softly, his voice full of understanding. “I just thought maybe I should tell you. Because I really do like you. I can’t help it.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, gathering your thoughts, before finally speaking again. “Fine,” you muttered, voice almost too quiet for him to hear. “I guess I like you too.”

Jungwon blinked, surprised, as though he hadn’t expected that at all. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” you said, offering him a small, reluctant smile. “I guess I do. But don’t get any ideas. You’re still annoying as hell.”

Jungwon let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, his dimples showing again, though this time there was a warmth in his expression that you couldn’t quite ignore. “Well, I’m glad to hear that, even if you won’t admit you like me.”

You shook your head, suddenly feeling too self-aware under his gaze. “I did admit it. You just don’t get to be all smug about it.”

“I wasn’t smug, just… relieved,” he said, his tone soft but still that familiar mix of excitement and hopefulness. “I thought you’d tell me I was crazy or something.”

You snorted. “You are crazy, but… I guess I can deal with it. For now.”

Jungwon smiled again, the tension from before evaporating as he shifted back into his usual chipper mood. “Well, I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to be here through all your grumbling and complaining.”

“Lucky me,” you muttered, though you found yourself feeling oddly content with his answer.

And maybe, just maybe, you liked it that way.

It was supposed to be a quiet escape.

The two of you had been suffocating under the weight of endless assignments, overbearing professors, and a class that was about as exciting as watching paint dry. So, naturally, you came to the brilliant conclusion that skipping class was the only reasonable solution. It wasn’t like you wanted to fail or anything, but you really, really needed a break.

Jungwon, of course, was all in. He was always ready for an adventure, especially one that didn’t involve textbooks or note-taking.

“I’m telling you, it’s the perfect plan,” you said, half whispering as you two crept out of the building. “We just go grab coffee, chill for a couple of hours, and act like today never happened.”

Jungwon grinned, his dimples making a rare but welcome appearance. “I’m with you. Let’s live on the edge. We deserve it.”

You exchanged a glance, both of you grinning like a couple of troublemakers about to commit the greatest heist known to mankind.

But, of course, the universe had other plans.

As you rounded the corner, heading toward the exit of the building, you heard the unmistakable sound of someone’s footsteps behind you. The voice that followed immediately made your heart sink.

“Jungwon. Y/N.”

It was Professor Lee.

You froze in place, slowly turning to face him, and saw Jungwon’s face go pale as he immediately began to stammer out an apology. “Professor, uh, we… we just… need a little… break, y’know?”

You barely had time to catch your breath before Professor Lee’s stern gaze fell on you both. He raised an eyebrow, then sighed dramatically. “And where exactly do you think you’re going?”

Jungwon’s eyes widened, and you could see him mentally scrambling for some kind of excuse. “Just… just getting some fresh air. Right, Y/N?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re dragging me down with you, aren’t you?”

Jungwon, ever the optimist, gave you a sheepish grin. “I’m just offering a chance for you to be spontaneous.”

Professor Lee’s glare was sharp, and you could practically see the disappointment radiating off of him. “The two of you need to get back to class. Now.”

And that’s when everything went downhill.

In a move that could only be described as a perfectly timed tragedy, Professor Lee reached out and grabbed Jungwon by the arm, pulling him toward the door. Jungwon stumbled slightly, looking back at you with wide eyes as though you were his only hope of escape.

You stood there, frozen, watching him being dragged away like a criminal. Jungwon’s eyes locked with yours, a look of mock betrayal on his face, his dimples on full display. “You left me!” he cried out dramatically, even as he was being dragged down the hallway. “I thought we were a team!”

You couldn’t help it. The laughter bubbled up from deep inside you, and before you knew it, you were laughing so hard you could barely breathe. The scene was just too absurd. There was Jungwon-usually the one getting people to laugh, but right now, looking like a puppy who’d been abandoned in the rain.

Professor Lee wasn’t amused. “This is not funny, Y/N. Get back to class.”

You waved a hand dismissively, still chuckling as Jungwon shot you a glare over his shoulder. “You’re cruel,” he muttered. “I thought we had something special.”

“That’s what you get for trying to skip class with me,” you replied, still grinning. “You’re lucky I didn’t bail on you sooner.”

“Traitor,” Jungwon said, though there was no malice in his voice. He looked at you one more time, and you could see the hint of a smile fighting its way to his lips despite the whole situation.

Finally, after what felt like a dramatic eternity, Professor Lee gave you both a final, disapproving look and gestured for you to follow him. You gave Jungwon one last playful grin as you walked back toward class, his mock expression of betrayal fading into a reluctant smile.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he muttered, clearly still a little embarrassed. “I really thought we had a chance at freedom.”

“You’re an idiot,” you said, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “But you’ve got those cute dimples, so I guess I’ll forgive you.”

“You’re just saying that because you left me to face the wrath of Professor Lee alone,” he said, his tone light but with a hint of playful irritation.

“Sure,” you agreed, “but it’s still true.”

Jungwon sighed dramatically as you both entered the classroom, the door closing behind you. “I’m never skipping class with you again.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Says the guy who begged me to do it in the first place.”

He shot you a sideways glance, a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “Fine. But if we’re skipping again, I’m leading the charge.”

You rolled your eyes. “Only if you promise not to get caught next time.”

Jungwon just winked. “I make no promises.”

You chuckled, the warmth of his smile lingering in the air. You’d never admit it to him, but in that moment, even the ridiculousness of the situation made you feel just a little bit more… alive.

You didn’t want to go. Honestly, you didn’t. But when your friends practically begged you to go on a double date with them-“Just for fun! You need to get out more!”-you couldn’t find a way to decline without looking like a total buzzkill.

So, naturally, you decided to bring Jungwon.

You didn’t really think he would take it seriously. You never did when it came to anything involving you and Jungwon. Sure, he was full of smiles and charm, but you always assumed it was just his way of making life a little less boring. So when you casually mentioned that you were “bringing someone along” for the date, you thought it was obvious that it was a joke.

But Jungwon, being Jungwon, took it way too literally.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he said, his eyes practically glowing with excitement when you told him about the double date. “You want me to come with you? For real?”

You stared at him, a little taken aback. “Yeah, I mean, if you’re up for it.” You paused, trying to suppress a grin. “It’s a joke though, Jungwon. Just to mess with them.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “So, like, you want me to pretend to be your date, or are we actually going on a date?”

You leaned back in your chair, trying to figure out how to explain it to him without overcomplicating things. “I’m not going to pretend, but-”

Jungwon’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “I’m in! This is going to be so fun!”

You stared at him, blinking in disbelief. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“Yes!” He practically bounced in his seat. “I’ve never been on a double date before. This is going to be awesome. I promise I won’t embarrass you. Well, I mean, I might, but only in the best way!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm. There was no stopping him now, though, so you just rolled with it.

The night of the double date arrived, and you were already regretting everything. The restaurant was nice enough-fancy, even but you felt out of place, sitting there with your friends, nervously picking at your food. Jungwon, on the other hand, looked like he was having the time of his life. His dimples were on full display as he grinned like a kid in a candy store.

“Okay, okay,” Jungwon said. “This is a real date, huh? So, what do we do? Do I hold your hand now?” He was clearly teasing, but his excitement made it impossible to tell if he was joking or not.

You shot him a flat look. “Don’t even think about it. I’m already regretting this.”

He winked at you, unfazed. “Too late. We’re in it now!”

Meanwhile, your friends were watching the two of you with wide eyes, clearly impressed by Jungwon’s apparent enthusiasm. They were under the assumption that you and he were actually dating, and that made the situation even funnier.

“You two are so cute together,” one of your friends, Mia, said, clearly trying to be supportive. “You should do this more often!”

You shot her a glare. “I’m not dating him. This is a joke. A joke that’s getting way out of hand.”

Jungwon, oblivious to your discomfort, smiled even wider. “Yeah, but I mean, if we were dating, I’d totally get you dessert. I’d get you all the desserts.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so ridiculous. Please don’t say that out loud.”

Jungwon just laughed, seemingly unfazed by your embarrassment. “But seriously, though, what’s your favorite dessert? I need to know for future reference.”

“Don’t you dare,” you warned, but he just looked at you like you were the cutest thing in the world, his dimples practically making a debut of their own.

Your friends, sensing that you weren’t taking this seriously enough, decided to take it one step further. They started making suggestions about how the date could go. “Why don’t you two take a cute picture together?” Mia suggested. “You know, for instagram?’”

You groaned, resting your head on the table. “This is a disaster.”

But Jungwon, being Jungwon, took this opportunity to pose dramatically, as if he was some kind of romance movie hero. “You want a picture? I’m your guy,” he said with a wink. “Smile, Y/N.”

You sighed but, much to your dismay, gave in. You weren’t going to ruin his fun, even though the whole thing was spiraling into madness.

When the waiter arrived to take the picture, Jungwon grabbed your hand out of nowhere and pulled you close, his dimples deepening as he beamed at the camera. You froze, unsure of how to react, but then-bam-the flash went off, and you were left blinking at the photo of you and Jungwon looking like an actual couple.

“You have to send that to me later,” your friend Mia said, completely unaware of your inner turmoil. “You two look so cute!”

Jungwon, on the other hand, was absolutely thrilled. “I told you we were a perfect match!”

The rest of the night was a blur of awkwardness and laughter. Every time you tried to steer the conversation away from the whole “fake date” scenario, Jungwon would burst in with his pure, unfiltered energy, saying something so ridiculous it made you laugh despite yourself.

At one point, he even tried to impress everyone by ordering an entire dessert platter, dramatically pushing it toward you. “For my date,” he said, his voice so sincere that it made everyone at the table pause. “I’m only doing this because you deserve it.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I try,” he said with a grin. 

The night ended with the two of you standing outside the restaurant, your friends still holding onto the illusion that you and Jungwon were an actual couple, while you both shared an awkward but genuine laugh about the chaos that had just unfolded.

“Well,” Jungwon said with a shrug, his voice full of playful sincerity, “if this was a real date, I’d say it went pretty well.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, trying not to laugh too loudly. “Except for the part where you were way too excited and we ended up eating like, five desserts.”

He grinned. “But hey, it was worth it. I made it fun, didn’t I?”

You couldn’t deny that. Jungwon’s energy had turned what could have been an awkward, uncomfortable night into something that was, well, bearable-even enjoyable.

“Fine,” you muttered, “I’ll give you that. You made it way better than it had any right to be.”

Jungwon’s grin widened. “That’s all I aim for.”

And as you walked away from the restaurant, you found yourself secretly grateful for his relentless positivity. 

It was an assignment from hell.

That’s how you’d been feeling about your latest project from the very moment it was announced in class. Another group project, another excuse for you to do all the work while your partners barely lifted a finger. You were already bracing for the usual frustration, the annoyance, the feeling that you could’ve done this better on your own.

And then, of course, you found out who your partner was.

Jungwon.

You groaned inwardly. If you weren’t already annoyed about the project, the thought of being paired with Jungwon was almost enough to make you throw in the towel. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him-he was fine, you guessed-but he was a whirlwind of energy and positivity, which was the exact opposite of what you needed. You were going to need every ounce of your patience to get through this.

When you met him at the library to start working on the project, Jungwon was already sitting at a table.

“Y/N! You ready to crush this?” he greeted you, practically jumping up to pull out a chair for you.

You set your stuff down, giving him a tired look. “You know this is a project, right? Not a ‘let’s have fun’ time?”

He tilted his head, the cheer in his eyes not fading one bit. “Yeah, I know! But we can have fun while we work, right?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m optimistic, not impossible,” he corrected with that trademark grin of his.

You resisted the urge to laugh at his ridiculousness. Why do you have to be so damn charming?

“Okay, so… what’s the plan?” you asked, trying to get the project underway, determined not to let Jungwon’s energy throw you off course.

Jungwon immediately opened his laptop and started listing ideas, his enthusiasm palpable as he rattled off suggestions. Normally, you’d be irritated by someone who couldn’t focus, who got distracted every few minutes, but for some reason, today felt different.

Maybe it was the way Jungwon’s excitement was contagious, or maybe it was because you’d been so stressed with school that his carefree attitude felt like a breath of fresh air. Whatever it was, you found yourself actually getting into the project.

“We could do this… or maybe add this idea? I think it could work, right?” Jungwon said, his voice bright with hope as he gestured at the screen.

You glanced at his work, surprised to see it was actually pretty decent. He wasn’t slacking off like you’d expected.

You nodded, genuinely impressed. “Not bad. Actually, I think that would work well.”

“Really?” Jungwon beamed, his dimples flashing. “I knew it! I knew you’d think it was a good idea!”

You tried to hide your smile, but you couldn’t help it. His enthusiasm was infectious, and despite your initial hesitation, you were starting to enjoy yourself. The work flowed smoothly, and for once, you didn’t feel like you were carrying the whole weight of the project on your shoulders.

There was something oddly comforting about working with Jungwon. His presence, though relentlessly cheerful, didn’t feel as grating as it usually did. In fact, it was kind of… nice. You found yourself laughing at his jokes, even when they were awful, and feeling oddly grateful that he was by your side, keeping things light when they could have easily turned stressful.

By the time you reached the end of the day, you realized you’d spent hours working with him, but it hadn’t felt like work at all. The project was done, the ideas were all sorted out, and you were left with a feeling you hadn’t expected: satisfaction.

“Well, that was… actually fun,” you admitted, feeling a little surprised at how well the day had gone. “I didn’t think we’d get through this without killing each other, but we did.”

Jungwon laughed, the sound bright and genuine. “Of course we did! We make a great team. See? I told you, you just have to trust my process!”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Your ‘process’? Is that what you’re calling it?”

He winked. “You don’t like it? I think it’s pretty effective.”

You shook your head, though you couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. You hadn’t thought it was possible, but after spending the whole day working together, you couldn’t help but feel… something.

Something warm. Something that was definitely more than just friendship.

You were starting to realize that the attraction you had towards Jungwon wasn’t just a passing thing. It wasn’t just his smiles or his dimples that were making your heart do flips. It was the way he made everything feel lighter, the way he made you feel like maybe, just maybe, things didn’t have to be so serious all the time.

And you couldn’t ignore the feeling that the more time you spent with him, the more that attraction grew.

“I guess you’re not so bad after all,” you said, pushing away from the table.

Jungwon’s eyes lit up, and his grin grew impossibly wider.

He laughed, the sound easy and carefree. “See? I knew we’d get along.”

As you packed up your things, you found yourself glancing over at Jungwon, trying to figure out what had changed. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but you knew something was different. Maybe it was the way he made everything feel easier. Or maybe it was the way he smiled at you, those dimples softening the edges of your usual grumpy mood.

Whatever it was, you were starting to realize that your feelings for him were changing. Slowly, but surely. And as much as you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t ignore the way your heart skipped a beat every time he flashed that irresistible smile.

“See you later, Y/N,” Jungwon said as he slung his bag over his shoulder, his eyes glinting with that familiar energy. “Next time, we can take over the world together.”

You snorted, trying not to grin. “We’ll see, Jungwon. We’ll see.”

But as you walked out of the library, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, your world was already starting to change in ways you didn’t expect.

And maybe it had something to do with a certain cheerful, dimply guy you’d been paired with.

It was a quiet day, the kind where you’re just trying to survive the hours before the weekend. You had spent most of the morning in a half-daze, taking notes during class, trying to push through the pile of assignments you’d been avoiding.

Jungwon had been his usual cheerful self, cracking jokes during every lull in the lecture. You, of course, had rolled your eyes, but even you had to admit that there was something almost comforting about his constant, unrelenting positivity.

But today, something was off.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it at first. You were sitting at the back of the lecture hall, arms folded, half-listening to the professor drone on about whatever boring topic they’d decided to assign this week. And then you saw it.

Jungwon was talking to one of your classmates, someone you didn’t know too well-Soojin, a girl who was always a little too bubbly, even for your taste. She was leaning in close to him, laughing at something he said. You could hear her high-pitched laugh from where you were sitting, and for some reason, it grated on you more than usual.

You watched as Jungwon, completely unaware of the growing discomfort in your chest, flashed her one of his bright, perfect smiles. The kind of smile that always made you weak in the knees. The kind of smile he’d given you countless times, only now, it was directed at her.

You clenched your fists under the desk, trying to ignore the sensation of something off. It wasn’t jealousy. No, absolutely not. Why would you care if Jungwon was talking to someone else? He was friendly with everyone, and it was totally normal. You were just being ridiculous.

But still…

You couldn’t focus on the lecture. Your mind kept wandering back to the sight of Jungwon leaning closer to Soojin, laughing and smiling like he always did with you. But this time, something about it felt different. You weren’t used to seeing him so at ease with someone else.

It was irrational. It wasn’t like you had any claim on him, after all. But still, the feeling gnawed at you.

Finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of class. You grabbed your stuff, not making eye contact with either Jungwon or Soojin, and headed for the door. You could hear Jungwon calling your name from behind, but you didn’t stop. You needed a second to breathe, to shake off the weirdness that had started to settle in your chest.

“Hey, wait up!” Jungwon caught up to you in the hallway, looking as cheerful as always, though there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes. “What’s up? You okay?”

You shrugged, pretending to be too focused on checking your phone to look at him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. You know, class stuff.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. He paused for a second, and then, as if he’d caught onto something, he smirked. “You know, I saw you in class. You seemed a little… off.” He leaned closer, his eyes glinting with mischievous energy. “Are you jealous?”

Your heart skipped. What?

You shot him a glare, your face turning a little hotter than you would’ve liked. “Shut up,” you muttered, walking a little faster, trying to escape the awkwardness you were suddenly drowning in.

Jungwon’s grin widened, and you could hear his footsteps quickening to match yours. “Come on, admit it. I saw the way you were looking at Soojin. Don’t try to hide it.”

“I said shut up,” you repeated, feeling like your face might combust from the heat. Why was this so hard to talk about? It was ridiculous. It’s not jealousy, you told yourself, it’s just… annoyance.

But Jungwon wasn’t letting it go. “You know, if you are jealous, it’s totally fine,” he said, his voice light but with a teasing undertone. “It just means you care. And I mean, who wouldn’t care about this?” He motioned to himself dramatically, grinning like a total dork. “Look at me. Hard to resist, right?”

You couldn’t help but snort, despite the awkward tension in the air. “You’re such an idiot.”

Jungwon laughed, clearly pleased that he had managed to get under your skin, even if it was just a little. “I’m serious, though. If you’re jealous, you should just tell me. No shame in it.”

“Jungwon,” you said in a low, flat voice, looking at him with a deadpan stare. “I’m not jealous. At all.”

He tilted his head, his dimples popping as he smiled at you. “Okay, okay. If you say so. But I’ll make it easy for you: I’m not interested in Soojin, alright? You’re my favorite person, and I like hanging out with you.”

You tried to suppress the weird feeling that fluttered in your stomach at his words. You could have sworn you felt the slightest bit of relief, but you weren’t going to admit that. You refused to.

“Good,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. “Just don’t get all buddy-buddy with her too much. We have a project to work on, remember?”

Jungwon raised his hands in mock surrender. “Of course! But hey, if you’re still worried, you can always just spend more time with me. I’ll make it up to you.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain your usual grumpy exterior, but deep down, you felt a flutter of warmth at the thought of him wanting to spend more time with you. “You’re impossible.”

“You know it,” he said with a wink, his dimples deepening in that infuriatingly cute way. “But you like me anyway, right?”

You shot him an exasperated look but said nothing. You didn’t trust your voice not to betray you. So instead, you just kept walking, silently acknowledging the strange, messy tangle of feelings that were starting to form in your chest.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d admit to yourself later that you didn’t mind being a little possessive over someone who had become far more important to you than you were willing to admit.

It started off as one of those perfectly ordinary days. The kind that drags on but doesn’t feel too bad. You’d woken up late-thanks to your terrible habit of hitting snooze about five times too many-and had rushed to class, not even bothering with breakfast. As usual, you were already mentally prepared to be irritated by the day’s trivialities.

But there was one thing that made today just a little less unbearable.

Jungwon.

You weren’t sure when it had started, but lately, you’d noticed something odd happening whenever he was around. The way his dimples appeared every time he smiled, the way his easy laughter seemed to cut through your grumpiness, and how you-for some strange reason-had started to smile back.

It was subtle at first. A little half-smile when he cracked a stupid joke, a slight curve of your lips when he mimicked something you’d said with that playful glint in his eye. It was all very unremarkable, except for the fact that you were smiling at all.

But today? Today, you caught yourself smiling for real.

You were both standing outside campus, Jungwon had been talking-about some new movie he wanted to see-and you were half-listening.

The next thing you knew, you were laughing at something he said. 

It wasn’t the usual forced, sarcastic laugh you gave him. No, this time, it was a genuine chuckle.

And then you realized something.

You’d smiled. Actually smiled. At something he’d said. Not because it was funny in a sarcastic way or because you were humoring him. No, you’d smiled because for the first time in a while, something he said made you feel… happy.

You didn’t want to think about it too hard, but your chest felt weird. That fluttery, stupid feeling you tried so hard to avoid.

Jungwon noticed, of course. He always did. He had this ridiculous ability to pick up on the smallest things about you-things you hadn’t even noticed about yourself.

“You smiled,” he said, eyes wide with mock surprise.

You immediately tried to cover it up, shifting uncomfortably. “I didn’t,” you muttered. “You’re imagining things.”

“Nope,” Jungwon replied with that teasing grin of his, his dimples deepening. “I saw it. I think… I think you actually like me.”

You froze for a second. That ridiculous fluttering feeling flared up again, and you immediately started to feel the heat rise in your cheeks. “What are you talking about?” you snapped, trying to play it cool. But your heart was beating a little faster than normal, and you could practically feel the awkwardness rising between you two.

“You know, like-like like me,” Jungwon pressed, his eyes glinting with mischievous light. “You’re all smiley when I’m around. Don’t worry, it’s totally fine. I won’t bite.”

You felt like you were dying a little inside. “I don’t like you. At all.”

It wasn’t that you were lying, exactly. But, well… maybe you were lying just a little. Or at least stretching the truth.

Jungwon leaned against the wall next to you, completely unfazed by your obvious discomfort. “You sure about that? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure I saw you smile again just now.” He gave you a cheeky look, clearly enjoying your obvious inner turmoil.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’re insufferable.”

He laughed, and it was like music to your ears. “That’s what I like about you, though,” he teased, his voice full of that energy that never seemed to run out. “You’re so grumpy, but I know you secretly like me.”

“God, you’re impossible,” you muttered, trying to mask the way your heart was speeding up.

Jungwon was watching you closely, his grin widening as he studied your flushed face. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop. But it’s cute, you know? You don’t have to hide it.”

You were silent for a moment, avoiding his gaze, suddenly very aware of how close he was standing to you. Your mind was racing, trying to figure out what to say, but the words just wouldn’t come out. You weren’t supposed to like him, you told yourself, especially not like this.

But somehow, you couldn’t keep it up. Not anymore.

“Fine,” you finally muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I think I might actually like you.”

Jungwon blinked at you for a moment, clearly surprised. Then, he broke into a wide grin, dimples on full display.

“See?” he said with mock triumph. “I knew it!”

You let out a strangled laugh. “Shut up, Jungwon. I hate you.”

He just grinned even wider, if that was possible. “Sure, you do. But you’re smiling, so I know you don’t.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to look anywhere but at him. “You’re really something, you know that?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his voice softening slightly. “I think you’re pretty great, too.”

And for a moment, the teasing stopped. The air between you two shifted just a little bit, and you suddenly felt… nervous. But you didn’t want to deal with that right now. You weren’t ready to think about it.

Instead, you muttered under your breath, “You’re lucky I like you too, you dork.”

Jungwon’s eyes softened, his smile turning genuinely warm. “I’m not so lucky. I’m just glad I finally got you to admit it.”

You didn’t say anything else. You didn’t need to. Because, somehow, it felt like everything had just changed. And you weren’t sure where this was going, but for the first time in a long time, you didn’t really mind.

You hadn’t been feeling great all day, but you didn’t think much of it. Just a little headache, a scratchy throat, maybe a bit of fatigue. You’d been pushing through it because, well, what else was new? You didn’t have time to get sick. There were assignments piling up, friends texting you about plans, and the general chaos that came with university life.

But by the time the evening hit, you were definitely regretting that stubborn “I’m fine” attitude. Your head was pounding, your nose was stuffy, and you could barely keep your eyes open. You’d barely managed to crawl into bed, curled up under the covers, and tried to ignore the fact that you were now a full-fledged mess of sniffles and fatigue.

But of course, that was when you heard someone knock on the door.

You groaned into your pillow, annoyed at the thought of anyone bothering you right now. It was probably just one of your roommates, or someone looking to “check in.”

You’d been a little less friendly with your friends recently, not out of any real malice, but more because you weren’t exactly in the mood for company. You’re fine, you told yourself. No one needs to see you like this.

You’d barely made it to the door before you heard a familiar, cheerful voice call your name.

“Hey! You home?”

You blinked a few times, trying to clear your blurry vision. Of course it was Jungwon. Who else would it be?

You reluctantly opened the door, rubbing your face, feeling a mix of annoyance and exhaustion. Jungwon stood there, holding a plastic bag in one hand, looking a little too bright and sunny for the current situation.  

You leaned against the doorframe, glaring at him. “What do you want, Jungwon? It’s like… seven o’clock. Why are you here?”

“I came to take care of you,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You look like you’re dying, so I thought I’d help out.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m fine,” you muttered, even though your voice was hoarse. “I just need some sleep. You should go back to whatever you were doing.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow at you, clearly not buying it. He pushed past you into the apartment, walking straight toward the kitchen without waiting for an invitation.

“Nope,” he said, turning around with that annoying grin still plastered on his face. “I’m staying. You need soup, medicine, and someone to make sure you don’t turn into a zombie.” He pulled a container of soup out of the bag. “I brought chicken noodle, your favorite. And medicine!” He waved the little bottles in the air like some kind of triumphant hero. “I’m basically a professional nurse now, so don’t worry. I’ve got it all covered.”

You gave him a flat stare, but despite the irritation bubbling in your chest, there was an odd warmth at the edges of your annoyance. You were so not in the mood to deal with this right now, but part of you couldn’t deny the fact that Jungwon being here, in his usual sunshine-y way, was actually kind of nice.

You sighed. “You really don’t have to do this. I can take care of myself.”

Jungwon just smiled wider, like that was exactly what he’d expected you to say. He plopped down on the couch and kicked his shoes off, as if he’d settled in for the long haul.

“I’m not leaving you to suffer alone,” he said casually, opening the soup. “Besides, I’m probably the only person who would be willing to come over and make you feel better, right?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but then stopped. He wasn’t wrong. Everyone else in your life would’ve probably texted you a “get well soon” message and gone on with their day. But Jungwon… well, he was different. He cared in a way that, despite your annoyance, you couldn’t quite push away.

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, leaning back against the doorframe and crossing your arms.

Jungwon just laughed and pulled a spoon out of his bag. “You say that now, but wait until you taste my world-famous chicken noodle soup.”

“You didn’t make it,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Did you just pick that up from the convenience store?”

“I may have,” he said, not at all ashamed. “But I promise it’s still delicious. It’s the thought that counts, right?”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, you let him serve you a bowl of soup, setting it down on the coffee table in front of you.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, watching him sit down beside you, eyes sparkling with pride.

“I’m just doing what any decent human would do.” Jungwon replied with a shrug.

You couldn’t help but chuckle despite yourself. “A decent human would’ve let me be, though. Not show up with soup and medicine and insist on taking care of me.”

Jungwon tilted his head, the dimples appearing as his smile softened. “Well, if I’m being honest… I kind of like taking care of you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in his voice, but you immediately masked it with a scoff. “You’re such a weirdo.”

Jungwon just shrugged again, looking entirely unbothered by your sarcasm. “Maybe. But you like me anyway.”

You didn’t respond immediately, not trusting yourself to say anything that wouldn’t sound too revealing. Instead, you took a spoonful of the soup, secretly enjoying how warm and comforting it felt-both the soup and the unexpected care.

“You’re lucky I’m sick, or I’d be kicking you out right now,” you grumbled, trying to sound more irritated than you actually felt.

Jungwon grinned. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But you’re not kicking me out. I’m your personal nurse now. I’m here to stay until you feel better.”

You sighed but didn’t argue. The truth was, part of you secretly appreciated it-the fact that Jungwon cared enough to show up like this, no matter how annoying he could be.

“I’m still mad at you for this,” you muttered under your breath, taking another bite of soup.

Jungwon just grinned and leaned back on the couch, clearly pleased with himself. “Sure, keep pretending you’re mad. I know the truth.”

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between you two. You didn’t want to admit it, but there was something oddly soothing about having him here. His presence,, his warmth… it made you feel less alone in this miserable state.

And even though you’d never admit it to his face, you were kind of glad he’d shown up.

It was late. Later than you’d normally stay out, but there was something about the night air that made everything feel a little more bearable. The kind of crisp, cool air that wrapped itself around you like a blanket, making the world seem quieter, softer. The city lights blurred in the distance, but here, on the side streets, everything felt peaceful.

You and Jungwon had been walking for a while now, your footsteps the only sound breaking the silence. It was almost funny-this whole thing. A walk at night, no real reason for it, just the two of you strolling through the empty streets, talking about everything and nothing.

The weird part? You didn’t mind. It wasn’t weird to have him beside you. It wasn’t weird to share the kind of silence that felt comfortable, not awkward.

Jungwon was talking about his dreams-what he wanted to do after university, how he imagined his future-and you listened, like you always did, half-paying attention while still being invested. You couldn’t help but smile a little when he talked about things he was passionate about. His excitement was infectious, even if you weren’t always as enthusiastic as he was.

“I think… I think I’d want to work with kids,” he said, his voice steady but a little shy, like he wasn’t sure if it was a stupid dream to have. “Or maybe something with education. I don’t know, just something where I can make a difference.” He looked at you, his eyes wide with that familiar innocence. “I know it sounds cliché, but I want to help.”

You nodded, your heart feeling a little lighter. “You’re not wrong,” you said, a small smirk on your lips. “It sounds like a good dream.”

Jungwon chuckled, glancing at you. “I know it’s cheesy, but hey, if I’m going to do something, I want it to matter. I want it to mean something.”

You glanced up at the stars, feeling a strange sense of calm. The night felt endless, like it could go on forever, and for a moment, you didn’t mind the thought of being out here with him. Just the two of you. No pressure, no expectations.

“You know,” you said, your voice softer than usual, “I get it. I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to do too. Sometimes it’s hard to figure it out, though, right?”

Jungwon nodded, but there was a quiet, almost unsure look in his eyes as he glanced at you. “Yeah, I know. It’s scary, thinking about the future. But…” He trailed off, taking a breath before continuing, “I think I’m starting to realize that maybe I’ve known what I want for a while now. It’s just… I didn’t want to admit it.”

You raised an eyebrow, looking at him. “What’s that?”

He paused, then took a few steps closer, his eyes locking onto yours, a quiet seriousness taking over his expression. “I know it’s kind of unexpected, but I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. And… well, I think I’ve been in love with you for a while.”

You stopped walking, your chest tightening, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you. Your heart skipped a beat, and you found yourself staring at him in complete silence. Jungwon’s expression was vulnerable, his usual teasing smile gone, replaced with something real. Something genuine.

You should’ve said something. You should’ve joked, laughed it off, but the truth was, the words didn’t sound as surprising as they should have. Because somewhere deep down, you already knew. You’d known for a while now, hadn’t you?

Your heart pounded in your chest, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The silence stretched between you two, thick and fragile, like the world was holding its breath.

And then you took a step closer, closing the distance between you two. You didn’t know why, but something about the way he looked at you made it impossible not to.

“Jungwon,” you said, voice barely above a whisper, “I… I think I love you too.”

His eyes widened slightly, as if he hadn’t expected that, but then that familiar, dazzling smile spread across his face. The dimples appeared, and your heart seemed to beat faster just at the sight of them.

“You-really?” His voice was full of disbelief, but there was a warmth there, a joy you could feel radiating from him.

You nodded slowly, a small, shy smile forming on your lips. “Yeah. Really. I told you already.”

And then, before you could overthink it, before you could question everything, Jungwon stepped forward, his hand brushing against yours. It felt like time slowed down as you both closed the space between you, and suddenly, it was just the two of you under the night sky, with no more words needed.

He leaned in first, just slightly, as if waiting for you to pull away, but you didn’t. Instead, you closed your eyes and let him. The kiss was soft at first-tentative, like he wasn’t sure if it was okay. But then something in both of you clicked. It deepened, slowly but with the kind of intensity you hadn’t expected. His lips were warm, gentle, and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself completely give in to the moment.

When you pulled away, you didn’t know how to react. Your heart was still racing, and Jungwon was standing there, looking at you like he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

“You kissed me,” he said, his voice almost breathless.

You gave him a playful, teasing smile. “Yeah, I did.” You leaned in, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “You should probably return the favor.”

Jungwon didn’t need to be told twice. His lips found yours again, and this time, there was no hesitation. No distance between you two. It was messy and real and, honestly, a little bit cheesy. But in that moment, it was everything.

And when you finally pulled away, you both stood there, grinning like idiots in the middle of the night, the weight of everything unspoken suddenly feeling like it had all fallen into place.

“You really are the worst,” you muttered, your voice still a little shaky from the kiss, but your smile genuine.

Jungwon laughed, his dimples deepening, his eyes full of something new. “I know. But I think you like it.”

You didn’t answer, but the truth was, you did. You really did.

It was one of those rare moments where everything just fell into place.

The day had been long-filled with classes, assignments, and the usual chaos that came with being a university student-but now, as the evening crept in and the air grew cooler, everything around you seemed to settle. You and Jungwon had retreated to your favorite spot on campus, a little bench under a large tree near the library, far enough from the usual student hustle to give you both some peace.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving a soft golden light that made everything look a little more serene. Jungwon had his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, his usual smile softened, and there was a comfortable silence between the two of you. It was the kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled with words, but somehow still felt full.

You glanced at him, watching the way his dimples appeared when he smiled, the familiar twinkle in his eyes as he caught you looking. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft, the kind of tone that seemed to match the evening around you.

You shrugged, but the gesture felt less grumpy than it normally would have. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

Jungwon nodded, his gaze drifting out toward the campus as well. “About what?”

You could’ve said a lot of things-how everything had felt a little chaotic lately, how much you had to juggle as a student, or how you sometimes felt like you didn’t belong in the middle of it all. But instead, you said something simpler, something that felt right.

“I think… I think I’m okay,” you murmured, staring out at the dimming light. “Like, really okay. With everything. With… you.”

Jungwon turned to look at you, his smile growing wider, his dimples deepening with each passing second. “You mean that, huh?”

You nodded, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest. “Yeah, I do. I never thought I’d say it, but… you’re not so bad. You, uh… balance me out.”

He leaned back on the bench, his eyes warm with affection. “I’ve always thought you balanced me out too. You make me more… grounded.”

It was the first time, in a long while, that you truly felt it-that quiet, steady connection between you two. You weren’t the same, not even close. But there was something in the way you fit together that just made sense. Jungwon, with his sunshine attitude and infectious energy, had a way of pulling you out of your shell, making you laugh when you least expected it. And you? You had a way of keeping him on his toes, of showing him that life wasn’t always as simple as it seemed, but sometimes that was okay.

The silence lingered for a while longer, comfortable and content.

Then, as the sky darkened completely, you looked at Jungwon and sighed. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

Jungwon grinned, the usual mischief dancing in his eyes. “And you’re the best part of my day.”

You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you knew it was true. There were still things about him that irritated you-like the way he folded blankets or how he couldn’t stand to be quiet for more than five minutes-but that was part of it. The part you didn’t mind. Because in the end, it was those little differences that made you both… better.

And for once, you were okay with that.

You turned to face him, catching his gaze for a brief moment before nudging him with your elbow. “Don’t get used to this, though.”

He laughed, the sound as light and carefree as ever, and for a split second, you realized that it wasn’t the perfection of the moment that made it special-it was the messy, imperfect, and sometimes chaotic pieces that fit together so well.

“You’re still my grumpy cat,” Jungwon said, leaning back against the bench with that familiar smile on his face. “But I like you that way.”

You didn’t need to respond. The way you both sat there, side by side, under the quiet sky, was enough. And in that moment, you realized that despite your differences, despite the ways you both clashed, you made each other better. And that, perhaps, was the most real thing of all.

For once, you were okay with that.

[drabbles-mc]

I'm Not Sorry

Bob Floyd x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, language, dry humping, semi-public hookup

Inspired by This Text Post: i should be riding some nerd's thigh while he gropes all over my body & tells me i'm the girl of his dreams

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: i've been struggling to finish fics lately but i saw that text post a couple days ago, knew i wanted to write about it for Bob, and then BAM this all fell outta me tonight. unbeta'd to the max but Bob Floyd deserves to fuck so time was of the essence 😌

Top Gun Maverick Taglist: @garbinge @proceduralpassion @justreblogginfics (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

If you wanted to be dramatic, you could say that you and Bob had been playing a very coy game of cat and mouse for months. It was a bit of an exaggeration, but not by much. A majority of the time that you spent with each other was work-related. It was usually work related, and there was almost always other people around. The closest the two of you got to having time alone was when all of you went out together and everyone else got distracted with pool or darts or each other. So while it might’ve been months according to the calendar, it wasn’t really quite that drastic.

Still, though, you tried to make the most out of the time that the two of you got to have.

It was easy, especially at first, to get a rise out of him, to get his cheeks to flush pink, to get him tripping over his words. A seemingly accidental touch, a well-timed innuendo or wink—that’s all it really took. You didn’t say anything about it but you noticed each time his gaze would break, eyes flickering down from yours to your mouth anytime your teeth dragged along your bottom lip. It never took much with him and for a while you just chalked it up to the fact that he was sweet and shy and a little awkward, that anyone flirting with him like that would get that reaction out of him. It wasn’t until you saw him perfectly unfazed at The Hard Deck one night when a girl at the bar was all but falling into his lap that you realized it wasn’t a Bob thing. It was a you thing. Once you realized that, it was all bets off.

There had been more than one occasion when thanks to your subtly wandering hands Bob nearly spat his drink out across the bar or dropped the bottle from his hand completely. You were able to keep a straight face and play it off, and every now and then Bob was able to recover with some grace, but there had been a time or two when he’d caught a few odd looks from the rest of the crew. It was easy enough to wave them off and they’d let it drop, but the second his focus was back on you, you could tell that he was working overtime to stay on the right side of self-control. All you could do was smile and try to carry on like nothing had happened.

Truthfully, it had gotten to a point where you had almost just resigned yourself to this being what it was going to be like with you and Bob. You were trying to accept that this limbo, this knowing that you wanted him and he wanted you but neither of you really found the time to do much of anything about it, was as good as it was going to get. A never-ending chase, a game with no winners.

“Alright,” you said as you hopped off your barstool, “I gotta head out.”

“Why?” Rooster asked, sounding as though he couldn’t fathom why anyone would want or need to be anywhere else on a Friday night.

You laughed as you dug your wallet out, taking out a few bills to close out your tab and then some. “Some of us have shit to do in the morning, Bradshaw.”

He laughed and gave you a mock disbelieving look. “I don’t think so.”

Raising your eyebrows, you turned your head to face him. “You wanna close out my tab, then? Sounds like you might wanna close out my tab.”

He threw his hands up in surrender. “Forget it—see you Monday.”

You laughed a little harder at that. “That’s what I thought.”

It didn’t seem like your departure disturbed the flow too much, everyone falling back into their previous conversations as you made your way to the bar to square up your tab. You didn’t even bother looking back as you made your way to the door of the bar. By the time your feet hit the blacktop of the parking lot, you were already fishing your keys out of your bag.

Once you were a few strides away from the bar and the clamor of noise coming from inside died down, all you heard was the sound of your own footsteps, and the ocean not too far off. It was peaceful until you heard someone else’s footsteps behind you. The sound alone wouldn’t usually have been strange. Someone else deciding to leave the bar at the same time as you wasn’t a weird occurrence. What made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, however, was the fact that the footsteps were getting quicker and closer. You felt your jaw clenching, positioning your keys between your fingers the way you’d always been taught. You were only a few steps away from your car now but you still found yourself taking a deep breath, getting ready to turn around and see whoever it was that was behind you. You were about to turn and brace for impact when you heard Bob’s voice calling out your name, a little breathless, and very rushed.

Turning around and seeing him, some of the tension disappeared. You huffed, shoulders dropping. “Jesus, Bob.”

There was an apologetic smile on his face as he realized what had just happened. “Sorry.”

Shaking your head, you slipped your keys so that you were holding them in your hand normally again. You managed to laugh at the potential worst case scenario versus the reality of the situation. “Another step without saying my name and I think we both would’ve been sorry.”

He stepped in a little closer to you as he nodded towards your car. “Just wanted to walk you to your car.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled as you turned and started the last few steps across the lot with him. “You know, walking me out to my car is much more chivalrous and much less creepy when you tell me you’re going to do it.”

There was a smirk on his face as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Guess I’ll have to remember that next time.”

Silence took over the space between you, and while it was comfortable enough, you couldn’t help but to feel like there was more to it, something in the air. Hitting the unlock button on your keys, the lights of your car flashed once. You looked at Bob, then at your car, and then back to Bob. “Well,” you chuckled, “thank you for the company on this long, treacherous journey.” You reached for the handle on the driver’s door. “Hope we can do it aga—”

Bob cut your sentence short when he placed one hand on top of yours on the door handle, keeping you from opening it. Before you could jump to another sentence and ask him what he was doing, his other hand was pressing against the small of your back and pulling you into him so that he could press his lips to yours in a kiss that was intense and nervous all at once.

It lasted just long enough for you to realize what was happening and how good it felt and then he pulled away. Going off the way his eyes were wider than you’d ever seen them, he was just as surprised at himself as you were. Despite the shock all over his face, he didn’t take his hand off your back, although the one that was covering yours on the door dropped back to his side.

“Sor—I’m sorry,” he finally forced out. “I’m…” he trailed off as he looked at you, tongue darting out over his bottom lip.

Another second passed in heavy silence, and when you didn’t try to break free of him, didn’t try to push him away, he let the rest of his sentence die on the tip of his tongue as he kissed you again. You could feel the way that he was more confident this time, the warmth of his palm bleeding through the thin fabric of your tank top as he pressed you against him.

You brought your hands up so that they were resting in the crook of where his neck met his shoulder. One slid up, thumb beneath his jaw as he deepened the kiss. It was all you could do to not ball up the cotton of his t-shirt in your fist, put it in a vice grip so that he couldn’t try to get away. However once you felt the way his tongue pushed into your mouth, and the way he used his body to pin you between him and the side of the car, it became clear that he wasn’t planning on going anywhere.

He had one hand still on your back, one hand braced against the side of your car. It was the first time it ever seemed like he was crowding you, like he was trying to make you seem small. You didn’t mind it. With the way he was kissing you, you were fairly certain you wouldn’t mind anything.

The next time the two of you came up for air, he didn’t pull far enough away for you to really see him. You were just far enough apart for your lips not to be touching, but you could still feel the side of his nose pressed against yours. You could still feel his breath against your skin. The two of you were pressed so tight against each other that you could’ve sworn you could feel the way his heart was about to beat clean out of his chest.

“Shit,” the word fell from his lips in a whisper, followed by an equally soft laugh. His lips brushed against yours as he spoke. “I’m…I’m not sorry.”

You laughed at that, couldn’t help yourself do to anything but. “Good.” Your hand slid from his jaw to the back of his head. “You shouldn’t be.” Kissing him again, you let your teeth pull lightly at his bottom lip as you pulled away. “Only thing you need to be sorry for is taking so long.”

He smiled and shook his head. If the lighting had been better you were sure that you would see a blush all across his cheeks and down his neck. You’d have to settle for the mental image of it. “Didn’t see you chasing me down across any parking lots for a kiss before this either,” he rebutted with a chuckle.

“Touché.”

The humor died down out of his voice as he said, “You know how long I’ve been wanting to do that?”

You nodded, noses brushing against each other. The bridge of his glasses bumped against your forehead for a split second in the process. “I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah.”

Your bodies were pressed together so tightly that you felt it when he sucked in a quick breath. There were a million things that he wanted to say to you and he couldn’t make himself say any of them in that moment. He had his hand on your back and the taste of your kiss on his lips and yet none of the things he’d been thinking over the passing months were making it out.

The feeling of your fingers toying with the longer strands of his hair centered him enough for him to smile as he said, “At least you know that. I—oh—” He fumbled his way out of the sentence when he felt your lips on his neck.

“Bob?” you said, lips brushing against the column of his throat as you spoke.

“Y-yeah?” he stammered out, and you could feel the vibrations against your lips as he talked.

Taking one hand off of him, you reached and pulled on the handle to the back door of your car. You kissed him again, pushing both of you off the side of the car in the process. “Get in the car.”

He was far enough away that you could see the shocked look on his face. “What?”

You placed your hands on his sides, switching your positions so that he was closer to the car than you. “Car.” You kissed him. “Back seat.” Another kiss. “Now.”

“Now?” He looked around the parking lot. Full of cars but completely devoid of people. “Here?”

You laughed as you pushed him farther back, causing him to duck slightly as he went backwards into the car. “Preferably, yeah.”

“I don’t—whoa,” he fell back across your back seat, managing to brace himself on his forearms.

You shimmied in after him. Pulling the door shut behind you, you climbed on top of him, one leg between his, the other pinned between the outside of his leg and the back seat. It was close quarters, but you weren’t exactly looking to put any distance between the two of you.

Your hands landed on his shoulders, fingers curling over the curve of them as you leaned in and kissed him on the lips. Whatever reservations he’d had about your current location disappeared almost immediately once your lips caught his. His hands were on your hips for a moment. You could feel the way he tightened his grip even through the denim of your shorts. Your lips and his met over and over, each reconnection making him a little bolder.

He managed to get his thoughts together just enough to pry one hand from your hip so that he could reach up and take his glasses off. He all but tossed them up and onto the center console between the driver and passenger seats. You were smiling and about to make a comment about the action but you didn’t get the chance. He brought his hand back to you, starting off on the soft, exposed skin of your thigh. His touch was soft at first, but quickly started to change. His fingers dragged up your leg before slipping past the bottom hem of your shorts.

Your pleased gasp of surprise when you felt the pads of his fingertips over the lace of your panties was quickly smothered as he pulled your lips back to his again. His grip on your ass tightened, pushing you down harder onto his thigh and causing you to moan into his mouth.

For a split second you couldn’t believe it. All this time and Bob hadn’t been able to make a move, couldn’t believe that you wanted to fool around in the back seat of your car—that same man was now grinding you down against his thigh in a way that had you wet and clenching around nothing.

You broke the kiss to catch your breath, muttering out a quiet, needy, “Fuck,” as you continued to move along the top of his leg.

When you pulled back enough to see him, you saw the way that he was watching the movement of your hips. He didn’t take his eyes off of you, felt like he physically couldn’t tear himself away from the sight. His hold on you loosened as you found your own rhythm. A tiny whimper slipped past your lips, the sound involuntary as you savored the friction. The sound made his gaze snap back up to your face, and when he saw the want and desperation etched into your expression he thought that he was going to melt into a puddle right there on your back seat. What a way to go.

He pulled you back down into another kiss, your bodies flush practically from head to toe. Even as you continued to move against his thigh, you could feel the way he was shifting slightly, trying to get in the most comfortable position as he felt himself growing more and more aroused with each passing second. He didn’t let you pull away, though, didn’t let you put any distance between you. With you pinning his leg to the seat, Bob let his hands wander up underneath he fabric of your shirt. Suddenly it was like you felt his hands everywhere—your back, your sides, your chest. He slipped them down past the waistband of your shorts and underwear, fingers kneading the flesh of your ass in a way that with everything else had your legs starting to shake.

Bob could feel it, too. He could feel the increased sense of urgency in your movements, the way you were chasing after something and you almost had it. He was half-expecting to be woken up and find out that this was all just a dream. But not even his dreams had been this good, felt this good.

He dragged his lips off of yours, trailing them along your jaw instead. He left a string of sloppy, desperate kisses in his wake until his lips were beside your ear. One of his hands crept up your back, palm and fingertips scorching your skin in the best way.

“I meant it, you know,” his whisper came out lower than you’d ever heard, a tiny hint of a tremor to it, “when I said I’ve been wanting this—you.” He kissed below your ear, feeling the shaky breath you let out at that, at his words. “But even when I thought about it,” he kissed your jaw, “or dreamed about you,” he kissed your neck, “it wasn’t—shit—it wasn’t anything compared to this.”

Fighting the urge to bury yourself into the crook of his neck at his words, you pulled your head back. You cupped his jaw roughly in one hand and crashed your lips against his. His arms slithered around you and wrapped you tightly against him. He could still feel the slight shake in your legs.

“Bob—”

He stole another quick kiss. “I’d wait all over again for this.”

You could hear it in his voice how genuine he was being. You tried not to let yourself get distracted by his still-wandering hands, or his erection that you could still feel through his jeans. You tried to start your sentence again. “Bob, I—”

“Let me—”

“Come home with me,” you cut him off right back this time, deciding to just get to the point of what you were trying to say.

Confusion flashed across his face for a quick moment. “What?”

“Come back to my place.”

“I thought—”

“I wanna do this.” You sat up enough so that you could drag your fingertips down over his chest and stomach, even doing it over the fabric of his shirt had him starting to squirm with want. “But I’d rather do it somewhere where I don’t have to worry about smacking my head off the ceiling if I sit up all the way.”

The statement got both of you to laugh. “That’s fair.” He paused, a smirk on his face as he said, “Car was your idea, though.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m feeling a little impatient. Sue me.”

He pulled you into another kiss, one that every time you thought it was over he’d pull you back in all over again. As much as you wanted to get him back to your apartment and laid out on your bed, you also knew that you’d spend as much time as he wanted to doing exactly what you were doing right now. Anything to keep him this close now that you had him there.

When he released you from the kiss, he looked up at you with that same smile, that same slightly dazed look to in his eyes. Like he couldn’t believe this was happening. You couldn’t really believe it either. You couldn’t believe that any of it was happening at all, but you were also having a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that Bob Floyd, the same man who could barely make eye contact with you at the bar the first time you all went out together, was the same man who looked like he was about to try and strategize how to best make use of your back seat so he wouldn’t have to wait to get back to your apartment.

“I live less than ten minutes from here,” you said, already knowing what he was going to say.

His hands moved around to the front of you, fingers just barely curled over into the front of your waistband. You pretended not to notice the way he was toying with the button of your shorts. “Thought you had things to do tomorrow?”

You laughed, leaning in and kissing him. “I still do. Now they’re just,” you ran your hand lightly over the crotch of his jeans, enough pressure to get him to buck into you, “different things.” You giggled quietly at the purposeful breath he sucked in. Reaching over, you grabbed his glasses for him. “C’mon. You can ride shotgun.”

He propped himself up by his forearms again as you untangled yourself from him. “What if—”

You couldn’t help but to laugh as you stopped his sentence short. “Little late to get shy now.”

He smiled, face starting to turn red. “Right.”

The only thing that passed between the two of you were knowing looks and soft laughter as you scrambled out and into the front seats of the car. It wasn’t until you were pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road that you spoke up again, trying not to be too distracted by Bob’s hand creeping higher and higher up on your thigh.

“So,” you looked over at him for a second before returning your attention to the road, “you dreamt about me?”

His head dropped back against the headrest and you couldn’t help but to laugh at his faux exasperation. He gave your thigh a squeeze. You were expecting a joke, one of the witty little comebacks that he had a way of finding in the right moments, but instead he let himself be serious as he said, “Yeah, I did.”

The three words hung in the air between you, and you felt the butterflies that you’d been too busy to feel before in the heat and the rush of everything else. You could feel the way that Bob was looking at you while you looked at the road.

“How much longer?” he asked.

You laughed, sparing him a glance. “Six minutes, tops.”

He nodded, fingertips grazing up and down your thigh, goosebumps breaking out over your skin despite how warm your car was with its still-fogged-up windows. “Six minutes.”

[livelaughlovesubs]

Hi!! I’m a little lurker who only did one request once and I forgot what happened to that one so I have a different request!!

can you…uhm…write a little thing about priest!fyodor who believes reader to be a god but reader just a normal human?

And like human is a virgin and…you know where I’m going with this.

A worshiper Fyodor taking his beloved God’s virginity by riding reader until he passes out from how many times Fyodor bounced on his cock.

idk I just can’t stop thinking about it but I don’t think I worded it pretty well and you have pretty words soooo…

I’m sorry for bothering you with this imma just

go back to lurking once more…

but if I could bother you again? Can I be 🕶️ anon please?

This is similar to something I have started long ago! On my old blog! But it got deleted along with my drafts :’)

Dom!reader x sub!priest!fyodor - reader is gender neutral

Warning: pegging (I use dick), use of condom (wow scary), no prep, cum play (licking), hierophilia, corruption, taking virginity, worshipping, fucking in a church, dacryphilia, handjob, cumming untouched, mind break, sub space, bruises, god - worshipper relationship

It happened the moment he laid his eyes on you. When you walked in, pass the grand wooden door and slandered through the small halls. That miraculous day was Sunday, morning to be precise, and you came in late for the morning chant. Everyone who sat on the benches turned their head to look at you, some with scorn, some with a mocking grin. You looked unfazed and went straight to the first row, keeping eye contact with one single person, the priest in charge.

That cold attitude despite the loud voices, the way your every move was as smooth and elegant as clear water. Your expression after sitting down, lips shut while keeping your arrogant eyes on him, as if to judge him, to attest to something. All that appeared divine in his eyes, superior even, it caused a shudder to run down his spine. He had never felt such a pressing sensation before, it was the first time.

You were staring at him so much, though he couldn’t read your intentions. Nothing, only emptiness. A gentle breeze, that brought forth comfort, turning into an icy storm capable of destruction. These words would be perfect to describe you, or how his view of you, because everyone else seems to think otherwise. Most of them scoffed about you coming in late, those little complains soon changed into more vicious words. Like a devils curse, causing the once friendly guests to sin.

“Dear father, may we continue with the morning prayers?” Among the low whispers of the devil, a voice akin to an angels emerged. “Excuse me..?” Fyodor murmured, eyes subconsciously darting to the direction of the sound. Once again, it was you who called out to him. A blush crept onto his cheeks when he noticed your piercing gaze, it was a little embarrassing that he dazed out there. “Yes, of course, pardon my inattentiveness.” The priest said, glancing at you a last time before focusing on his duties. Or at least he tried, because he couldn’t concentrate. The entire time he found himself stealing glances at you, watching you. This wasn’t like him, he couldn’t even recognise himself.

From then onwards, he found himself searching for your eyes or attention. It began with him asking around about you, then it gradually turned into him actively seeking you out. Your meetings became more frequent, and more private as well. One day, he found you kneeling in the confession box, boringly staring through the bars. He quickly positioned himself, then asked, “what brings you to me, my child?”

Seeing you up close was a new experience, he felt the tingly sensation crawling around his body again. “Father, I’m here because I believe you have something to confess.” You said with a voice coated in sweet honey. “Me, confess?” The priest mumbled, obviously baffled by your words no matter how he adored your voice. “That’s right, I can see. If you have something to say, do it now.” After hearing you out, he swallowed the lump in his throat, before smiling at you meekly and admitting, “I fear I’m not loyal to my god anymore.”

It took a lot out of him, a servant of god, to utter these words. Of course it wasn’t without reason. Simply being in your presence made him feel special and watched, as if those nonchalant eyes of yours were the watching gaze of god. He couldn’t explain it, it was a chilly feeling, but at the same time it burned him from the inside. “Speak, father.” You spoke, then he suddenly slammed his hands against the wall separating the two of you. “My lord, you don’t have to speak politely with me. I, Fyodor, this lowly subject of yours, am ready to serve you with all my heart.” The male announced, smiling at you in delight, cheeks rosy as he declared you as his new god.

Anyone who heard this would have thought he was out of his mind, staring at him with a face that screams the word disbelief. But not you, contrary to what one would expect, your expression stayed neutral. “My subject? Lord?” You questioned his choice of vocabularies, tilting your head to the side. “Yes, oh lord, please let þis servant worship you.” Then, to your surprise, the father you were supposed to confess to kneeled down and clasped his hands together, praying to you with a sickening obsession.

That shivering, oppressive feeling didn’t leave him alone, it gnawed at him and told him this was the right thing to do. He couldn’t care less what he was supposed to do or not, all that wasn’t important anymore. Since his deity has come down and granted him an audience, he only has to follow their- your orders from now on.

Whatever got him acting this way was all in his head, you were nowhere near of being a god. Quite the opposite, you were just a human like him, and you found his actions irritating. But you weren’t any better, you didn’t correct him, rather, you liked that desperate look on his face. You wanted to test his limits, to see how far he’d go for you. In truth you enjoyed playing god for him, depending on who you are asking this might be even more twisted than what fyodor was pulling off.

It started with you getting him to do bothersome stuff for you, sometimes it also became materialistic. Other times you would just converse with him and enjoy his company. He’d ask tausend questions about you, some trivial, some existential ones. Most of the time you’d put up with his antics, acting like a benevolent and nice deity. That’s when one day, one of his curiosities caught you off guard. It was when he asked you:

“my lord, do.. you want me to comfort you?” You stared at him with furrowed brows and scoffed “comfort? Where did you get that idea?” “You look stressed my lord, I wish I could do something for you.” Fyodor said, he was on his knees in front of you, who was sitting on a bench in a huge room. The room where each Sunday a crowd of people would come in for morning prayers.

He looked up at you with foggy eyes, hands itching to worship your body. How could someone be this divine and perfect? Obviously he was the chosen one, he was born to meet you. “That… I’ve never done anything like that before. Speaking of which, have you, as a priest?” You questioned, a tiny bit interested. “No, I kept my chastity for you, my god.” Fyodor answered shamelessly, then thought about what you told him.

If what you said was right, then he awfully wanted to give his first to you, and to be your first as well. To take the virginity of his most beloved god and to give, there was nothing more he could ask of. “Is that so?” Your warm voice broke off the momentary silence, then you continued with, “come here.” You tapped your thighs, wondering if he would do it. Did he believe in you enough to commit something that has always been taboo for him? A part of you doubted it, but you wished he’d obey you yet again.

The boy stared at your moving hands for a while, then did as you instructed, climbing onto your lap with reddened cheeks. “…like this?” He raised his arms, about to wrap them around your neck but decided against that. Then he bawled them into fists and kept them behind his back, before grinding against your crotch with his own bulge. “Nghh... fo-forgive me, hah I-lord, can I please continue?" Fyodor mumbled with squinted eyes, biting his bottom lip while he let his desires take over. You grabbed his waist, wrinkling his black robe and stopping him, whispering, "D-don't move, not in the church." Your conscious forbid you from carrying out such acts in a holy place. Sure, you provoked him first, though you didn’t expect it to escalate this soon.

He begged you with glistening, teary eyes, hoping you'd let him go further than that. It felt so good he couldn't stop, he has never even touched himself before so that simple gesture was enough to make him drool. "P-please." Fyodor groaned into your ear, his voice has never been this needy or lewd, it surprised both of you. Instead of stopping when you told him to, he continued to grind against you and whimper, "use me however you see fit, my lord, please let me he-help you." You clenched your teeth, use is a strong word. It’d be a lie to say you weren't aroused, so you sighed and complied with his request, "dammit, fine. Go and get my bag."

This was how you were going to have your first? Giving it to a crazy priest who believes you were a being above humanity? Who would have guessed…

You watched him get off with shaky legs, the spot between his legs was all wet and sticky already. Was it normal to be this sensitive? It's probably because he's a virgin, just look at him eagerly bringing your stuff to you. Once he came back, you fumbled around in your bag, luckily you always brought your stuff with you in case of a spontaneous one-night-stand. It never happened before, yet you knew you would need it one day. After you were done with the preparations, you opened a pack of condom, about to pull it over your length when he clasped his hand over yours. "L-let me do it." He proposed, hands shaking with embarrassment as he took slowly pulled it down to the shaft. You almost laughed because he was making such a big deal out of it, sweating furiously with an ashamed gaze.

"Do you find it dirty to touch it?" You chuckled after watching him for a bit, finding his reactions pretty amusing. "No-no.!! No.. that, I-I'm.." His face heat up again as he tried to find the right words. In the end he decided to just speed up the entire thing, and grabbed the bottle of lube that was in your other hand. Then he squeezed the contents onto your dick and spread it evenly, wondering if this would even fit. After a minute, you grabbed his wrist and scoffed, "are you done playing?" Out of nervousness and excitement he forgot to stick it inside him, looking away in shame before lining the tip up with his hole.

"HnnGgh.. this is h-hard.." he complained under his breath, trying his best to take you. You wanted to prepare him first, but he said he wanted the first thing to enter him to be you and not some fingers. Since that was what he wanted, you decided to let him be. That's what led to your current situation, where he's desperately poking his entrance with your dick. “NghhHg..! Ah, f-feels good..” Finally he managed to take your tip, already panting like he had ran a marathon. "Good job." You praised him, then caressed his soft thighs. They were covered by his clothes, which annoyed you a little, so you gripped his hips and butt before slamming him down your cock. "AhhHGGgNN.!? AahHH..! H-hurts.." He moaned out loudly, then slumped against your chest, fingers clawing at you for support.

Fat tears rolled down his cheeks, his body shivered at the sudden impact. You were stretching him so much, he could swear his butt was going to tear. At the same time he was so happy, enjoying this to the fullest. His insides were working overtime, trying to accommodate your thickness and length, his rim clenching and loosening up with each inhale. He made such sinful noises when your hands squeezed his snatched waist, to the point you wondered if he was telling the truth earlier. After waiting for him to stop holding onto you like his life depended on it, you cupped his cheeks, making him look up at you. “Look here, fyodor, tell me how good it feels.” Then you grind your hips against his.

The movements were minimal, you didn’t make him ride you yet, only pushing it slightly deeper inside him. Yet the reaction was better than expected. He arched his back, throwing his arms around your neck out of reflex and whined, “ahHhH!! I-i love it, god, it’s so NGhh m-my insides are tingling..♡” You clicked your tongue, grabbing his butt to have a better grip and praised him, “so good for me.. there’s to turning back now, you don’t mind sinning for me, right?” He didn’t even think twice before saying, “I’ll do whatever you want me to..!”

After getting his permission, you told him to hold onto you tightly. Once he did as you commanded, you manhandled him and made him go up and down your dick. Your little worshipper wasn’t particularly short, rather, he was unusually light. He couldn’t even keep a straight face composure anymore, crashing against you once again as he moaned into your ears. Poor boy was crying due to the overwhelming pleasure, thighs trying to close together in a twitching manner and toes curled off the ground. Drool dripped down his chin and soaked your clothes, all while he moaned out your Titel.

“L-lord, god.. ah, please!! S-slow down.. ngHh, too much, too big..♡♡” his voice became higher with each trust, and bruises began to form around his hips because of your rough grip. “Didn’t you say I can do what I want?” You reminded him, licking your lips when you saw his melting face. How those beautiful water drops raced down his cheeks like soft rain against a window. His pupils even formed little hearts to match that pleasure-ridden gaze in his eyes. Most of his bangs stuck to his forehead, the rest of his hair bounced around whenever you made him ride you.

Then you said fuck it and ripped his priest robe, so that you’d have more access to his skin. “Hu-hUHmnn..?! M-my lord! AhhHNN!!” He shrieked when he noticed one of your hand on his inner thighs, pinching and groping his skin. “W-why there..? Nghhh…” Fyodor groaned, a tad embarrassed by the intimate touch. His deity was touching him after all. Alone the thought of you, his one and only god, fucking him and using him was enough to get him to the verge of cumming.

More precum leaked from his shameless tip, soiling the back of your hand. “M-m’sorry, so-sorry..ah, for being d-dirty..!” He immediately apologised, holding your wrist weakly and bringing it to his lips. Then he slowly licked off the pre, using kitten licks that looked so inexperienced and adorable that you had to tease him more. Sticking your finger into his mouth and snapping your hips against his. Fastening your pace, going rougher and deeper, rutting into him like he was some fleshlight. At this point his petite body won’t be able to take it! He’s so slim and vulnerable, it’d be a shame to break his mind and make him your toy, wouldn’t it?

“MhmMNN… ah, r-right there..Nghh, too f-fast, g-god! feels good~ ♡” Fyodor mewled into your ears, squeaking as he tried to shake his ass for you. But he was more on the passive side, letting you move his body however you saw fit. His sloppy and slutty hole was making squelching noises whenever you bottom out in him, all sticky with lube already. You were so caught up in the moment, you weren’t even sure what you were doing. All you knew was you wanted to touch him, to feel up his figure and trace the outlines of his body. Then you kissed his neck, causing him to whimper uncontrollably. “Hnghh… I- mHhm, l-lord help me.. I want more♡ something is coming out..!!” The boy gasped and smiled, grinning satisfied, the expression almost looked dumb.

You did as he asked of you, slamming him down onto your dick harder and trying to hit his sweet spot more often. The way it rubbed and played with his soft and warm walls made him see the light, or he was just about to blank out. “Nghh! F-forgive me.. for my siiiinnns..!! ♡♥︎～” The priest, Fyodor, your exclusive worshipper and toy servant groaned a last time before shooting ropes of cum out of his twitching member. His thick and filthy cum got everywhere. From his ripped clothes to his milky inner thighs and chest. Then he slumped down, pleasure and sensations he never felt before all coursing through him at once. He felt so good, this was the first time he felt this amazing. It must be due to you, because of your blessings.

Oh how lucky he was to serve such a kindhearted and generous god, who was patient enough to show him all this bliss. This was heavenly~ His body was still a shaking, twitching mess. The lingering ecstasy making him sob and moan louder. After giving him a gift this great, he will have to serve you even more diligently and wholeheartedly! He will make sure to worship and treasure whatever you gave him!

Even you had to catch up your breath since the session was so intense, panting a little while still admiring him. You were still inside him, and he was clenching down onto you without letting you pull out. Then you leaned back against the lean of the bench, signing when you realised what you just did. Now you were definitely going to hell. Fucking a priest in the praying halls, were you possessed? Right before you could tell him to get off, since you two had to clean up, he took off his clothes completely. “Huh..? Fyodor?” You whispered in disbelief. Sure, you ruined his robes, but why did he take them off?

It was the first time you saw him entirely naked, and he was as skinny as you noticed him to be. His nipples were all hard and pink, a cute colour in your opinion. A few seconds later, he re-positioned himself in your lap despite his legs giving up under him. Then, he slowly rode you, jumping up and down while wrapping one hand around his shaft. You rushed to stop him, saying, “wait a sec- shouldn’t we, especially you, take a break?” Seriously, for how sickly and pathetic he looks, he had quit the stamina? Instead of obeying you like normally, fyodor smirked obsessively and moaned, “G-god, forgive me for i-indulging..! Ahhh.. I’m so sinful, I deserve punishment. But..!! it’s just so good I can’t stop ♥︎♡.”

What…? Wait- isn’t this priest too slutty…?? It seems you’ll have to suck it up and wait until he milked himself dry on your dick ♥︎