#i don’t even know if this makes sense but … i love him so much | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shy9-29 · 2 days ago

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❜ THE QUIET BETWEEN US ◟ 양정원

“sunshine x grumpy” - enhypen campus series

✘ Jungwon’s bright smile and sunny disposition make him the perfect foil to your grumpy attitude—until a sudden twist of fate forces you both to face feelings you didn’t know existed. ✉️ wc. 10.2k - pairing 양정원 x f reader (5/7)

🏷️ @kristynaaah @firstclassjaylee @chvconn3 @wonzzziezzzz @sheseung @blvengene @gvtdoll @a3r4-for3ver @sunghoon-cam @luvksnn @aaaaarmiiiiin @blckorchidd @gyulune @zerere @marimariiisblog @pinknjm @bloomiize @flwwon @ziiao @heelovver @hoomin10 @soona-huh @tricky-ritz @starniras @dearestdreamies @tkooooop @xuevkim @deluluscenarios @starboy-library @melodiessvy @steddie-steddie @i-am-not-dal @nct-sticker-127 @elimelbe @wonbinceps @tunafishyfishylike @kitty-won07 @sxie-txt

The campus café buzzed with low chatter, espresso machines hissing, and the occasional clink of cutlery. You stood stiffly by the counter, arms crossed, glaring at your brother like this was the last place on Earth you wanted to be. Which, to be fair, it was.

“This is dumb,” you mumbled. “I didn’t even ask to be introduced to anyone.”

Sunghoon, forever calm and unreadable, simply ignored your protests and nudged your shoulder. “She’s been asking to meet you.”

“Cool,” you deadpanned. “Tell her I said hi.”

But it was too late. A blur of pastel and energy bounded toward you, ponytail bouncing and cheeks flushed. She practically skidded to a stop in front of you, a smoothie in one hand and a cookie in the other.

“Hi! Oh my gosh, you must be Y/N!” she chirped, eyes wide with excitement.

You blinked, then gave Sunghoon the what the hell is this look.

He sighed, giving you a subtle nod. “Y/N, this is my girlfriend.”

She beamed. “Wow. He wasn’t kidding. You really are the same.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Same?”

“Yeah! All moody and mysterious. Like, no offense, but you two look like you walk through thunderstorms for fun,” she said, biting her cookie casually. “It’s kinda cute.”

You stared.

Sunghoon sighed. “I told you not to say that.”

“But it’s true!” she giggled, leaning against Sunghoon like he was her favorite pillow. “You even frown the same way. Look.”

She scrunched her brows, mocking your unimpressed expression. You couldn’t help it—you snorted. Just once. Barely.

She gasped. “Did I just make you laugh? Or was that a cough?”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

But she didn’t seem offended. If anything, her smile grew bigger. “You’re so grumpy. I love it. You’re like a cat someone tried to dress in a tutu.”

Sunghoon let out a breathy chuckle, and you turned to glare at him, betrayed.

“She’s been like this since she got here,” he said to his girlfriend. “Moved from Busan, acts like Seoul’s a crime against humanity.”

“Because it is,” you muttered. “Too many people. Too many couples. Too much sun.”

Sunghoon’s girlfriend was practically vibrating now. “Wait—you’re from Busan? That makes so much sense. You totally have the accent when you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

She grinned knowingly. “Okay.”

You looked away, sipping your drink just to have an excuse not to answer. Sunghoon watched you with that usual quiet amusement, like he was used to your walls but also knew they weren’t as tall as you pretended.

“Anyway,” his girlfriend said, pulling out her phone, “I’m putting you in the group chat. The one with the rest of the girlfriends.”

Your eyes widened. “What? No.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “You should. Jay’s girlfriend is in it. So is Jake’s.”

“Oh my god, and Jungwon!” she added. “You haven’t met Jungwon yet, right? You’ll love him. He’s sunshine in human form. Literally the opposite of you. You’ll hate him. And then you’ll love him.”

You shook your head. “Please don’t.”

But she was already typing. Sunghoon looked away to hide his smile, and for a moment, you considered throwing your drink at both of them.

And yet, despite yourself… a tiny part of you didn’t hate this as much as you thought you would.

You leaned back in your chair, picking at the sleeve of your hoodie as your brother quietly scrolled through his phone. The late afternoon sun poured through the campus café windows, golden and warm, but you were too busy sulking to care.

“So,” you started, voice flat, “do all of your friends have girlfriends now or what?”

Sunghoon didn’t look up. “Pretty much.”

You scoffed. “What is this? Some campus-wide boyfriend recruitment initiative I missed?”

He side-eyed you. “You sound jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” you snapped. “I’m just… observing. Like you always do.”

He hummed, which was the closest thing to a laugh you’d get out of him. You turned slightly in your seat to catch a glimpse of his girlfriend across the café. She was chatting animatedly with Jay’s girlfriend and giggling about something that involved a lot of hand gestures. You watched her for a second—so bright, so loud, so much.

You wrinkled your nose. “What’s so special about her, anyway? She’s so loud.”

Sunghoon didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he finally looked up from his phone and met your eyes.

“That’s what I thought at first,” he said, voice quieter now, more sincere. “But… I don’t know. She’s different.”

You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Different how?”

“She makes everything feel lighter,” he said simply. “Like I don’t have to say anything and she still gets me. She’s chaos, but somehow it makes everything clearer.”

You blinked, surprised by how genuine he sounded. He wasn’t usually the type to say much about his feelings, let alone this kind of stuff.

You scoffed again, more defensive this time, and took a loud sip of your drink. “Ugh. I don’t like seeing you when you’re in love. It’s weird. Gross. I hate it.”

Sunghoon smirked and leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting across the café toward her again.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Me too.”

The café was bustling with soft chatter, silverware clinking, and the occasional burst of laughter. You were already halfway through your iced Americano when the bell above the door jingled.

Your eyes flicked up just in time to see a familiar face walk in—tousled hair, clean-cut uniform, a soft frown like he’d already had a long day. Jungwon.

You blinked. “Wait, is that—?”

Sunghoon’s girlfriend practically bounced out of her seat, waving him over. “Wonie! Over here!”

You turned slowly to your brother, suspicion rising in your chest. “You invited him?”

Sunghoon shook his head with a deadpan expression. “I didn’t.”

His girlfriend was already scooting over, making room next to you on the bench. Jungwon hesitated, then offered a polite nod and slid in beside you, his shoulder brushing yours.

“Hey,” he said, voice soft but clear. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”

You glanced at him, trying not to seem flustered. “Yeah, me neither.”

Sunghoon’s girlfriend leaned toward your brother and whispered into his ear with a mischievous grin, “See? Don’t they look perfect together?”

Sunghoon recoiled immediately, his whole face twisting. “I don’t wanna picture my sister and my friend together,” he muttered under his breath, disgusted.

She just giggled, clearly satisfied with herself, while Sunghoon groaned into his drink and refused to look in either of your directions.

You shifted in your seat, trying to ignore the way Jungwon’s leg brushed against yours under the table. He didn’t move away, and neither did you.

“Sorry if this is weird,” Jungwon said after a moment, glancing sideways at you, then quickly looking away. “Didn’t know they’d both plot behind our backs.”

You let out a soft scoff. “Yeah, that sounds like her.”

From across the table, Sunghoon’s girlfriend was humming to herself while stabbing a piece of cake with her fork, clearly proud of her little matchmaking scheme. Sunghoon, on the other hand, was sinking further into his seat with every passing second.

“So…” Jungwon started again, trying for casual, “how are you liking Seoul so far?”

“It’s… different,” you answered, folding your arms. “Too fast. Too loud.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess it is. But not all of it’s bad, right?”

You hesitated, then shrugged. “I guess not.”

Your eyes flicked up just in time to catch your brother watching the two of you with a narrowed gaze. You raised a brow at him.

“What?” you asked, tone sharp.

He blinked. “Nothing. Just… watching you flirt.”

You nearly choked. “I’m not flirting—”

Jungwon, ever so collected, only smiled faintly and looked down at his drink, a soft pink coloring the tips of his ears.

“I swear, if you try to date one of my friends,” Sunghoon muttered, pointing a finger at you, “I will transfer schools.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you muttered under your breath.

But then you glanced back at Jungwon, who was still smiling, looking perfectly content with how the conversation was going. You couldn’t help the sarcastic edge that slipped into your voice. “Especially someone like him.”

It wasn’t meant to be as harsh as it came out. But when you saw the way his smile faltered, the subtle hurt flickering in his eyes, your heart did an unexpected twist. You hadn’t meant to hurt him—yet, there it was, hanging in the air between you.

Sunghoon nudged you roughly with his elbow, a sharp look in his eyes.

“Careful,�� he warned in a low voice.

You flushed and immediately looked away, suddenly feeling guilty. Jungwon’s expression had gone unreadable, and you could practically hear the thoughts swirling in his head.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you mumbled, softening your tone, “sorry.”

Jungwon didn’t say anything right away, just gave a small nod. His usual confident demeanor was replaced with something quieter, more distant.

The tension at the table had definitely shifted, but you didn’t know how to fix it.

Sunghoon just sighed, looking between you two. “Can you two stop making it weird?” he muttered under his breath, though it was more for your benefit than anyone else’s.

His girlfriend, ever the optimist, grinned and fed him a bite of cake. “It’s okay. They’re both just shy. But they’ll work it out.”

You barely heard her, though, because your thoughts were focused on the look in Jungwon’s eyes.

Sunghoon and his girlfriend were in their own little world, laughing and exchanging little inside jokes, completely oblivious to how their playful banter was making everyone else at the table squirm.

“I swear, if you ever stop smiling like that, I’ll—” His girlfriend’s voice was light and teasing, but Sunghoon only smiled softly, clearly used to her rambles.

“You’ll what?” Sunghoon asked, nudging her playfully.

“Make you watch another one of those romantic movies you love so much,” she threatened, a bright grin lighting up her face.

“Ah, anything but that,” he teased back, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’m practically drowning in romance.”

His girlfriend only laughed and reached over to adjust his glasses, and Sunghoon simply let her, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. The exchange was so natural, so effortlessly affectionate that it felt almost like they were living in their own bubble, too caught up in their little world to notice anyone else around them.

“Ugh, get a room, you two,” you muttered under your breath, not at all interested in hearing about how “adorable” they were being.

Jungwon chuckled awkwardly, clearly trying to steer the conversation in a different direction. “So, uh… what’s your favorite thing to do around here? Any hidden spots in the city I should know about?”

You barely looked at him, instead fiddling with the straw in your drink, the sound of Sunghoon and his girlfriend’s laughter making your ears buzz. You really didn’t feel like talking, not when the couple next to you was being so… couple-y.

You shrugged, keeping your gaze fixed firmly on the table. “I don’t know. Just the usual stuff. I’m not really one for sightseeing.”

Jungwon pressed on, clearly not giving up yet. “But surely there’s something fun you’ve found? You seem like you’d know the best places to hang out.”

You let out a small, dismissive sigh, leaning back in your chair. “I’m really not interested in showing you around, Jungwon.”

Sunghoon’s girlfriend was still on her own tangent, going on about something utterly trivial while Sunghoon nodded along, his smile barely faltering as he glanced back at you and Jungwon.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Y/N? You’re being awfully quiet today,” she said in her bright, ever-optimistic voice.

You tried to force a smile, but it was tight, and you could feel your irritation simmering just under the surface. “I’m fine,” you muttered. “Just… tired.”

Jungwon seemed a bit taken aback by your mood but didn’t press it further, instead focusing back on his drink. Meanwhile, Sunghoon and his girlfriend were still wrapped up in their own bubble of cute moments, exchanging playful glances and quiet words that only seemed to make the atmosphere feel even more suffocating.

You didn’t understand how they could be so effortlessly happy, so comfortable with each other. Sunghoon was always so calm, so distant to everyone, but with her, he was… different.

“Don’t you think they’re a bit much?” you muttered under your breath, barely audible, but enough for Jungwon to hear.

Jungwon hesitated, looking between you and the couple before shrugging. “Maybe,” he said carefully, “but if they’re happy, then what’s the harm?”

“Right,” you muttered, trying to hide the bitterness creeping into your voice. “Good for them.”

Jungwon gave you a sideways glance, his smile a little more unsure now. “You seem really upset. Want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, feeling the discomfort in your chest grow. “No. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Jungwon seemed to understand that you weren’t in the mood for more conversation, but his quiet attempts to make small talk were starting to feel more forced as the minutes dragged on. Meanwhile, Sunghoon and his girlfriend’s voices only grew louder, completely lost in their own happiness as they continued their affectionate back-and-forth.

You felt a twinge of jealousy. You hadn’t been able to experience that kind of closeness or affection with anyone—certainly not with Jungwon, and not with anyone else before. It irritated you how easily Sunghoon seemed to slip into that comfortable, happy state with his girlfriend, making you wonder if you could ever find something like that yourself.

But for now, you were stuck here, watching them, and avoiding any attempts at real conversation from Jungwon.

As Sunghoon and his girlfriend stood up from the bench, her hands instinctively finding his as they gathered their stuff, she glanced one more time at where you and Jungwon sat—him politely sipping his drink, you staring pointedly at anything that wasn’t him.

“We should get going,” she murmured to Sunghoon. “Didn’t you say you had that meeting thing later?”

Sunghoon nodded, throwing one last glance toward you before gently tugging his girlfriend toward the exit. The two of them walked side by side down the garden path, the sunlight catching in her hair and the breeze tugging at the sleeves of Sunghoon’s hoodie.

Once they were a little out of earshot, his girlfriend turned to him, voice low and curious. “So… is your sister always like that?”

Sunghoon sighed through his nose, glancing over his shoulder before answering. “Yeah. Especially around people who are in love.”

His girlfriend blinked, then tilted her head, genuinely concerned. “Why? Is she, like… bitter about it or something?”

Sunghoon hesitated, then leaned closer, lowering his voice. “I’m not really supposed to be telling you this,” he muttered. “But someone she really loved cheated on her. Like, full-on betrayed her. She’s never really been the same after that.”

His girlfriend’s eyes softened. “Oh…”

“And the other half of it?” he added, smiling faintly. “She’s like me. She keeps things in. But instead of being quiet and polite about it, she turns into a little grump.”

They both laughed softly at that, their steps in sync as they neared the sidewalk.

“But I mean…” she nudged him lightly, a playful glint in her eye. “What about Jungwon? I don’t know—don’t they look kinda cute together?”

Sunghoon groaned immediately, dragging a hand over his face. “Babe, please. I don’t wanna hear it.”

“What?” she laughed, looping her arm through his. “I’m just saying! Come on, they just met, but—”

“They just met in person today,” he emphasized. “They don’t even know each other.”

“Exactly! That’s how it starts!”

Sunghoon gave her a dry look. “You’re lucky I like you.”

She giggled and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “I know. And I know love when I see it, Hoon. Trust me.”

He rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him with the slightest upward tug. “Just don’t play matchmaker. I don’t think either of them would survive it.”

“Noted,” she grinned. “But if they fall in love on their own, I will say ‘I told you so.’”

Sunghoon groaned again, tugging her along as they disappeared down the street. First day of school and you already wanted to go home.

Everything about the campus felt off—too bright, too noisy, too… full of people smiling for no reason. Sunghoon’s girlfriend had insisted on showing you around, practically skipping through the corridors like this was her favorite place in the world. You trailed behind her like a raincloud, unimpressed by every building she pointed out.

“And this is the student center! Oh, and that’s the little garden where Sunghoon and I first—”

“Don’t care,” you muttered, eyes flicking away.

She just laughed, clearly used to your deadpan tone by now. “You’re going to love it here. Promise.”

You already knew you wouldn’t.

By lunch, you were desperately scanning the cafeteria for any possible corner to disappear into. You even spotted an empty table by the window—peace, solitude, the dream. But before you could escape, Sunghoon materialized out of nowhere and threw an arm around your shoulder.

“C’mon,” he said flatly. “Sit with us.”

“I’d rather swallow a fork.”

His grip tightened just slightly. “Let’s go.”

So now you were here, wedged between your brother and an empty chair, staring blankly at the loudest table on campus. Jake and his girlfriend were whispering and giggling over some inside joke. Jay’s girlfriend was mid-rant about something academic while Jay leaned back smugly, looking like he invented confidence. Heeseung was playfully bickering with his girlfriend over bubble tea flavors. Jungwon sat across from you, awkward and quiet, stealing glances your way like he wasn’t sure if you’d bite.

You glanced sideways at Sunghoon.

He glanced at you.

Same expression. Blank. Mildly judging. Deeply unimpressed.

The only sound from your side of the table was the soft tap of chopsticks and synchronized sighs.

Sunoo blinked at the two of you from across the table and dramatically clutched his chest.

“Oh my god,” he gasped. “That’s actually kind of terrifying. You two look like serial killers at brunch.”

Jake snorted into his drink. “No, for real. Why are y’all staring like that?”

Sunghoon answered without even blinking. “We’re trying to understand how you all function.”

You didn’t say anything. Just raised a brow, slowly picking at your food.

Jungwon coughed into his hand. “So… do you like the school so far?”

You didn’t even bother looking at him. “No.”

Silence fell over that end of the table while everyone else resumed their conversations. You and Sunghoon returned to your synchronized eating and judging.

Sunoo whispered to Jake, “This is my favorite horror movie.”

Jake nodded. “Same.”

Jungwon tried again.

“So, um…” he said, shifting a little in his seat. “What did you study back in Busan?”

You didn’t even lift your head. “Stuff.”

Sunghoon barely held in a snort beside you, and Jungwon let out a quiet breath like he’d just been elbowed in the ribs.

Jake, ever the peacekeeper, tried to help. “She’s just shy, bro. Takes a while to warm up.”

“I’m not shy,” you muttered. “I just don’t feel like talking.”

Sunoo’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “She’s like if Wednesday Addams and a sleep-deprived cat had a baby.”

You finally looked up at him with the blankest stare you could muster. “I will replace your shampoo with glue.”

Sunoo gasped, scandalized. “Sunghoon, your sister threatened me!”

“She does that,” he said calmly, sipping from his drink.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon’s girlfriend was busy telling Heeseung’s girlfriend about a new nail salon when her gaze flicked to you and Jungwon again. She nudged Sunghoon under the table.

He blinked. “No.”

“You didn’t even hear what I was going to say.”

“Yes, I did. And it’s still no.”

“They’d be so cute together!”

“No.”

“You’re so grumpy sometimes,” she huffed, crossing her arms.

“You’re just loud,” he muttered.

“I heard that!”

You rolled your eyes and shoved a fry into your mouth just as Jungwon finally stopped trying to talk. He tapped nervously at his tray, eyes flicking down to his food. You could feel his awkwardness radiating in waves.

And you hated how it made your chest tighten a little.

The table broke into laughter at something Jake said, and you just sat there in the calm middle of it all—quiet, grumpy, unimpressed. But for the first time that day, you weren’t desperate to leave.

Which was weird. But maybe you could blame it on the way Jungwon kept sneaking glances your way.

Even if you didn’t return them. Yet.

Jungwon had that look again. The one that made you want to throw a pillow at his face and storm out of the room for no reason other than how… bright he was.

“Let’s go camping,” he said, plopping down on the couch next to where you were curled up, minding your own business with a book you were only half-reading. “Like a group trip. All of us.”

You blinked at him, slowly. “Why would I voluntarily spend a weekend in the woods with mosquitoes, uneven ground, and people?”

He grinned, undeterred. “Because it’s fun. And because you clearly need to loosen up a little.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Excuse me?”

“You’re always cooped up in your dorm or hiding behind Sunghoon or glaring at everyone during lunch,” he said matter-of-factly, like he hadn’t just signed his own death warrant. “It wouldn’t kill you to try being part of the group.”

Sunghoon, from the kitchen, muttered, “She only goes to lunch because I drag her there.”

“Exactly my point!” Jungwon exclaimed, pointing at your brother like he’d just proven something. “C’mon, Y/N. It’ll be nice. Campfire, s’mores, nature… friends.”

You stared at him. That smile of his, the one that curved just a little more on the right side, the soft crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the way he was so annoyingly earnest—it made something in your chest itch.

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“You can bring a portable fan and three cans of bug spray. I’ll even carry your stuff.”

“I said no.”

He tilted his head. “Are you scared you’ll actually have a good time?”

You shut your book with a snap. “You’re insufferable.”

“I’ll take that as a maybe.”

“You’ll take it as a no.”

“Sunoo’s going.”

You hesitated.

“And Jake. And Jay. And Sunghoon and his girlfriend. Heeseung and his girlfriend said they’ll come if there’s a real bathroom.”

You looked at him, unimpressed. “You planned this already.”

Jungwon smiled, victorious. “I had faith.”

You sighed, long and dramatic, flopping back against the couch. “Fine. I’ll go. Just to get you off my back.”

“Yay!” he said, like you’d just agreed to world peace.

“But if there’s a single spider—one—I’m leaving.”

He held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

“You’ve never been a scout.”

“Still counts.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small, reluctant smile tugged at your lips when he wasn’t looking.

Spring break hit with the kind of anticipation that had the entire campus buzzing. People were packing bags, coordinating snack lists, fighting over which playlist to use for the drive. It was chaos—in a way that made you want to crawl back under your blankets and pretend the world didn’t exist. But unfortunately, Jungwon’s persistence and your impulsive “Fine, I’ll go” had landed you a spot on this cursed trip.

Everyone was gathered in front of the parking lot early that morning, chattering, yawning, stretching. The two rented vans were parked side by side, engines rumbling quietly as everyone shuffled around trying to load their bags.

You crossed your arms and looked up at Sunghoon. “I’m riding in your van.”

He barely looked up from where he was loading his girlfriend’s duffel into the trunk. “No, you’re not.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He finally turned to face you, already exasperated. “Y/N, we’re each sharing a van with our girlfriends.”

You gestured to yourself, deadpan. “I am your sister.”

“Not the same thing.”

“You’re telling me you’d rather spend three hours crammed in a van with Jake and Sunoo talking about anime character types while your girlfriend sings along to every song off key—”

“Yes.”

You scowled. “Wow. What happened to blood being thicker than water?”

His girlfriend popped her head out from the side of the van, smile already in place. “Don’t worry, Y/N! I already packed snacks for you and I think you’re with Jungwon anyway.”

“What?”

Jungwon appeared behind you like some overly peppy ghost. “Morning! I put your bag in our van already. We’ve got good air conditioning, just saying.”

You turned to glare at him. “You what?”

Sunoo clapped dramatically from a few feet away. “Ooooh, you’re sharing with Jungwon? This is either the start of a rom-com or a disaster film.”

“I vote disaster,” you muttered under your breath.

Sunghoon gave your shoulder a pat as he slid into the driver’s seat. “Try not to murder anyone.”

You huffed, trudging toward the second van where Jungwon was already opening your door like some boy-next-door prince. He even had a thermos in hand—probably green tea or some healthy crap. You didn’t ask.

“I didn’t agree to share a van with you,” you grumbled, climbing in.

Jungwon just buckled in and smiled. “Well, you didn’t not agree either.”

You stared out the window, jaw tight. This trip was already feeling too long… and the engine hadn’t even started yet.

The vans were all packed, the skies were mostly clear, and it almost felt like things were going to go according to plan. Keyword: almost.

Jake stood beside Van 1, arms crossed, lips pursed as he eyed the group assignments one last time. “Okay, but I still think it’s a terrible idea to put Heeseung and Jay in the same van.”

Jay’s girlfriend, ever the chaos advocate, waved her hand dismissively. “They need to make up. This is the perfect chance. Think of it as forced bonding.”

Heeseung snorted from behind her. “More like forced suffering.”

Sunoo popped his head up from the back of Van 1, cheeks stuffed with snacks. “Can I switch vans? I’ll go with Jungwon and Y/N. I’m great company!”

“No,” you and Jungwon both said at the exact same time.

Sunoo blinked, then smirked. “Wow. Okay. Guess I’ll just keep my charisma to myself.”

You shot Jungwon a glare, but he was already climbing into the driver’s seat of your van—Van 3, aka the loner van. AKA you and him, stuck together for a few hours while the rest of your brother’s chaotic group pretended to function like normal humans.

You didn’t even have time to say goodbye to Sunghoon before Jungwon was already pulling out of the parking lot.

The ride started out in silence. Then music. Then more silence.

It was about twenty minutes into the drive when Jungwon finally broke the quiet.

“So… you probably feel a little out of place, huh?” he said, keeping his eyes on the road.

You shrugged, arms crossed. “You think?”

He chuckled. “Okay, fair. I just mean… they’re a lot to take in.”

“You don’t say.”

“Well,” he said, shifting in his seat, “you’ve probably figured out who’s dating who, right?”

“I’m not blind.”

“Alright. So Van 1—Sunghoon, Jake, their girlfriends, and Sunoo. The stable van.”

You raised a brow. “Sunoo’s the stability?”

“Don’t underestimate Sunoo,” Jungwon said seriously. “He knows everything. I’m pretty sure he could run this school if he wanted to.”

You snorted. “Next.”

“Van 2,” Jungwon said with a grin. “The drama van. Jay, Heeseung, their girlfriends. Basically a soap opera on wheels.”

You glanced at him. “Why? What happened?”

He glanced sideways, then said, “Well… Jay and Heeseung used to be close, until Jay kissed Heeseung’s girlfriend.”

Your jaw dropped.

“Twice,” Jungwon added helpfully. “Once before she and Heeseung were dating, and once after. But Jay swears she kissed him the second time, and she admits to it, but Heeseung won’t let it go.”

You blinked. “And now Jay is dating someone else?”

“Oh yeah. She’s just as chaotic as he is. They’re the perfect match. But she’s also childhood best friends with Heeseung, so it’s awkward all around.”

“Yikes.”

He nodded. “Exactly. That’s why Jake wanted to separate them. But Jay’s girlfriend was like ‘they need to make up’ and dragged them into the same van anyway.”

You let out a low whistle. “No wonder Sunoo wanted to escape.”

Jungwon laughed, and the air settled into something a little more comfortable after that. He explained more as the road wound on—tiny dramas, moments of laughter, stories you’d missed being the new one in the group.

But about an hour in, things took a turn.

The sky darkened suddenly, clouds rolling in like something out of a horror movie. The rain started slowly—just a patter on the windshield—but quickly turned heavy, pelting down so hard Jungwon had to slow to a crawl.

“Uh,” you said, glancing out the fogged window, “should we… pull over?”

“We’re almost at the rest stop,” Jungwon muttered, eyes squinting against the blur. “Just a few more minutes—”

Thud.

The van jolted.

You both froze.

“…Please tell me that wasn’t a tire,” you whispered.

Jungwon sighed, already pulling over. “That was a tire.”

He hopped out into the rain, grabbing his jacket as the wind howled. You stayed in the van, cold seeping into your skin even as the heater ran.

Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. Then twenty. Finally, he ducked back inside, soaked and shivering.

“It’s too dark,” he muttered. “I can’t see anything, and my phone’s got no signal. We’ll have to wait till morning.”

You stared at him. “You’re telling me we’re stuck here? In a van? In the middle of nowhere? Alone?”

He looked sheepish. “Pretty much.”

You sat back, heart racing.

And for the first time that day, you were truly terrified.

You were shaken. Even though you sat with your arms folded tightly across your chest, eyes glued to the pitch-black forest outside the rain-speckled window, your body was stiff—too still. You didn’t say anything, didn’t make a sound, but Jungwon noticed. He always noticed.

Without a word, he shifted beside you in the front seat of the van, then gently wrapped an arm around your shoulders. His touch wasn’t overbearing or awkward. It was quiet, like him. Patient. Warm.

“You’re not okay,” he murmured.

“I’m fine,” you muttered.

“You’re lying.”

You didn’t argue, because he wasn’t wrong. But you didn’t respond either.

A silence stretched between you, filled only by the steady tapping of rain on the windshield and the occasional creak of the van shifting under the wind. The dark had settled in deep now, wrapping around the vehicle like a second skin.

“I hate being stuck,” you finally said, your voice low. “I hate not knowing what’s going to happen. I hate not having a signal, not knowing where we are—feeling like I’m not in control.”

Jungwon gave your shoulder a soft squeeze. “Yeah… I figured.”

You fell silent again, until he nudged you gently and said, “Okay. Tell me something your brother did that was so extroverted and humiliating that no one else besides you knows about it.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Come on. Distract yourself. Something Sunghoon did. Spill.”

A reluctant laugh slipped out of you, and Jungwon’s grin widened.

“He once got on stage during orientation week and did a full dance cover of Love Divebecause someone dared him,” you mumbled. “And he actually nailed it.”

“Love Dive? Seriously?” Jungwon tried to suppress a laugh, and failed. “No way.”

“He practiced for three days. I have a video.”

He let out a sharp breath of laughter and leaned his head back against the seat. “Okay, yeah, that helped. I’m feeling better already.”

You smiled, just barely, the tension starting to melt off your shoulders. You almost forgot about the storm outside, the flat tire, the cold. Almost.

Until a sharp crack of thunder split through the sky.

You jumped—physically flinched—and before you could stop yourself, you scooted closer to Jungwon, pressing into his side like instinct. His arm immediately tightened around you, steadying, grounding.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, softer this time. “You’re okay.”

And somehow, sitting there with him in the dark, you believed it.

After a while, the front seats of the van started to feel cold and cramped, and Jungwon, sensing your growing discomfort, suggested quietly, “We can pull out the bed in the back… might be warmer there.”

You didn’t answer, but you nodded, following him as he climbed out of the front. He moved slowly, giving you space but also staying close enough to reach if you needed him. Together, you helped tug the folded bed out from its compartment, laying it flat and spreading one of the extra blankets over it.

You sat beside him on the makeshift mattress, legs tucked underneath you, hands buried in your sleeves. The van wasn’t exactly spacious, but the bed was wide enough to sit shoulder-to-shoulder without brushing—barely.

The rain still drummed steadily on the roof, creating a rhythm that was both soothing and unnerving. You hated storms. Always had.

Then, like the sky had waited for your guard to come down, lightning struck again. Closer this time—followed by a crack so loud the whole van seemed to rattle. You gasped sharply and before you even knew what you were doing, you threw yourself toward Jungwon.

Your hands gripped his hoodie, your body curling into his lap as if you could disappear there, your breath coming in short, panicked puffs. You hated this—how vulnerable you suddenly felt, how raw and open your fear was—but your body didn’t listen to your pride. It just needed safety. Warmth. Him.

Jungwon didn’t say a word. He didn’t tease, didn’t even shift awkwardly. His arms came around you immediately, holding you close like he’d done this a thousand times before. One hand rubbed gentle, soothing circles into your back while the other rested lightly on the back of your head.

Then you started crying.

Not the messy, heaving sobs you’d always imagined people cried when breaking down—but the quiet kind. The kind that slipped down your cheeks without permission, burning and soft. You couldn’t remember the last time you cried in front of someone else.

“I hate this,” you whispered into his hoodie. “I hate feeling like this.”

“I know,” he whispered back. “But you don’t have to pretend with me, okay? Just for tonight… it’s okay to be scared.”

You don’t know how long you stayed like that—wrapped in Jungwon’s arms, eyes closed against the world, tears drying slowly. The storm eventually began to calm. The thunder faded to distant rumbles, and the rain softened into a drizzle.

Then, with an almost comical sputter, the van’s power flickered back on. The dashboard lights glowed faintly. The heater whirred to life. And just like that, reality came rushing back in.

You blinked and pulled away slowly, only to freeze as you realized where you were: practically curled in Jungwon’s lap, your arms still wrapped around him, your cheek resting against his chest.

You moved quickly, almost too quickly, scooting back and wiping your face with your sleeve. The silence that followed was heavy—awkward and thick and way too loud now that the storm had passed.

“I—sorry,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. “That was… a lot.”

Jungwon shifted too, but not far. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “Really.”

But you didn’t know how to feel. You weren’t used to people seeing you like that. Especially not someone like him.

And now, sitting side by side in the faint light, with your tears still damp on your skin and the ghost of his touch lingering on your back, you suddenly weren’t sure what scared you more—the storm outside… or the one happening inside you.

The rain had finally stopped, but that didn’t mean you were out of the woods. Literally.

It was 2:07 AM, and the van was still parked on the side of some empty, winding road surrounded by nothing but trees and thick silence. The air inside was warmer now thanks to the heater, but that didn’t fix the flat tire—or the awkwardness hanging heavy between you and Jungwon after what had just happened.

You sat cross-legged on the bed, facing the window, pretending to be way more interested in the foggy glass than the fact that you were very much aware of Jungwon’s presence just a few feet behind you. He was still sitting up against the back of the van, legs stretched out, fiddling absently with the zipper on his jacket.

Neither of you had spoken much since the power came back on. A few quiet “you okay?”s and mumbled “yeah”s, but beyond that? Just tension.

He glanced over at you for what felt like the hundredth time. “So… uh. Still no signal.”

“Shocker,” you muttered, not turning around.

“We’ll fix the tire at sunrise. I can’t see anything in the dark without messing it up more.”

“Mhm.”

Silence again.

You hated this. Not just the situation, but how… exposed you still felt. You hadn’t meant to cry in front of him. You hadn’t meant to let him hold you. And now, it was like that moment had cracked something open, and you didn’t know how to patch it back up.

Jungwon cleared his throat. “Do you want the bed to yourself? I can sleep sitting up or something.”

“No. It’s fine.”

“You sure?”

You finally turned to face him, eyes meeting his. “Can you just… not make it a thing?”

He blinked. “What?”

“Earlier. The crying. The whole… mess. Just don’t make it a thing, okay? I don’t need you looking at me like I’m fragile now.”

Jungwon’s expression softened. “I don’t think you’re fragile. I think you’re human.”

You rolled your eyes, turning back toward the window. “Great. Even worse.”

He let out a quiet laugh, barely audible. “You know, for someone who pretends not to care about people, you sure care a lot about what I think.”

Your lips pressed into a tight line. He wasn’t wrong—but you weren’t about to admit that.

“It’s late,” you said instead. “We should try to sleep.”

You heard him shift behind you, and then the quiet rustle of blankets as he laid down on the far side of the bed, careful to leave space between you.

But even with the silence returning and your body exhausted, sleep didn’t come easy. Not when your brain was still replaying the way his arms had felt around you. Not when every beat of the clock brought you closer to morning—and whatever would come after this strange, vulnerable night you never meant to share.

The hours ticked by slowly, stretching the night into something that felt endless.

The space between you and Jungwon wasn’t very big. The bed was narrow, the van cold despite the heater humming faintly, and somewhere between turning to face the wall and trying to ignore how your thoughts spiraled, you realized you weren’t sleeping at all. Neither was he.

You could tell by the way he shifted every few minutes, quietly clearing his throat or sighing like he was trying not to seem restless. Finally, at around 3:15 AM, his voice cut through the stillness—soft, careful.

“Hey.”

You turned your head slightly. “What?”

“Can I ask you something?”

You hesitated. “…Yeah.”

“When you said you’re scared of being emotionally dependent on people… was that about someone specific?”

You stared at the ceiling. You weren’t sure why your chest tightened at the question. Maybe because you’d let that confession slip too easily earlier. Maybe because this was the first time someone actually followed up instead of brushing it off.

You swallowed. “Not just one person. More like… a pattern.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, gently: “Like what?”

“Like I used to trust people. I’d let them in, even when it hurt. And each time, it ended with me being the only one trying to fix things.” You paused, fingers curling slightly into the blanket. “At some point, I just stopped trying.”

Jungwon shifted closer—not enough to touch, but enough to feel it.

“I’m not trying to ‘fix’ you,” he said quietly. “I just want to understand you.”

Your breath hitched slightly.

“And I know you don’t like being seen,” he added, almost like an afterthought. “But you don’t have to hide around me.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. So you didn’t say anything.

Instead, you turned your body slightly toward him. Not enough to close the distance completely—but enough that he’d know you weren’t shutting him out.

Minutes passed in silence again. But it wasn’t awkward anymore.

At 4:00 AM, the sky outside started to shift, a faint grey creeping into the edges of the horizon. You were still awake, and so was he.

Jungwon sat up first, running a hand through his hair. “It’s almost light enough. I’ll check the tire.”

You nodded sleepily, rubbing your eyes. “Okay. I’ll… come with you?”

He turned back to look at you, his gaze soft but steady. “Only if you want to.”

You gave a small nod, pulling the blanket tighter around you for a second before kicking it off and sliding off the bed.

It was quiet again, but something had changed between you—like a wire had loosened. Maybe things wouldn’t go back to the way they were. Maybe you didn’t want them to.

The air was crisp when you stepped out of the van, the ground still damp from the night before. Dew clung to the grass and your shoes squelched lightly against the earth, but the storm had passed. A faint mist curled in the distance, and the sun hadn’t quite broken over the trees yet—just a soft blue-gray glow painted the horizon.

Jungwon crouched by the flat tire, flashlight wedged under his arm as he examined it. You stood beside him with your arms crossed tightly, partly from the chill and partly because… well, what else were you supposed to do? Last night had been—something. Too much, maybe. And even though he hadn’t brought it up, you could feel the weight of it still lingering between you.

“Looks like it’ll hold until we get to a service station,” he muttered, brushing his hands off on his jeans. “I just need to switch it out with the spare.”

“Need help?” you offered, voice still hoarse from barely sleeping.

He looked up at you and smiled—not that smug, teasing smile he usually wore around you, but something small and warm. “You offering to actually help me instead of glaring at me? Must be a special day.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched. “Don’t push it.”

Still, you knelt beside him and passed him tools when he asked, watching him work quickly and efficiently. By the time the spare tire was secured and you were both sitting on the bumper catching your breath, the sun had finally peeked through the trees.

“Thanks,” Jungwon said quietly.

You glanced over. “For what?”

“For… trusting me,” he said. “Even a little.”

You looked away, watching your breath fog in the cool morning air. “Don’t get used to it.”

He chuckled, not pushing further. “Okay.”

Another pause, then he added, “Do you think they noticed we were gone?”

You groaned. “Probably.”

Jungwon smirked. “Should we lie and say we were attacked by bears?”

You gave him a flat look. “That’s so specific.”

He shrugged. “You never know. Might make us more interesting.”

“You’re already interesting,” you said before you could stop yourself.

You both blinked.

Silence.

“…Forget I said that,” you mumbled, turning away.

But Jungwon was smiling again—bright, proud, but not teasing this time. “Too late.”

And when you both climbed back into the van and started the engine, there was still silence—but it was softer now, like a thread connecting the two of you had finally begun to tie itself together. Not forced. Not rushed. Just… a start.

The campsite buzzed with the sounds of life when you and Jungwon finally pulled in. Laughter echoed through the trees, smoke curled lazily from a fire pit where someone was trying to get breakfast started, and Jake was playing some acoustic guitar on a log while his girlfriend swayed beside him.

You had barely stepped out of the van, stretching your stiff limbs, when Sunoo boltedacross the campsite like a heat-seeking missile.

“Oh. My. God,” he gasped, eyes bouncing between you and Jungwon. “You guys were gone all night. ALL NIGHT. I swear to God, if this is a slow-burn friends-to-lovers enemies-to-lovers surprise-romance situation and you didn’t tell me, I’m going to explode.”

You blinked. “What—”

“Did you guys fuck?” Sunoo blurted, voice way too loud.

Everyone turned.

Jungwon nearly choked on air. “SUNOO!”

You grabbed the nearest camping chair and flung a towel over your face. “We did NOT!”

“Well,” Sunoo huffed, crossing his arms. “With that much chemistry, I’m just saying—”

“Sunoo,” you gritted out through clenched teeth.

He raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine, I’ll stop. For now.” But the sparkle in his eyes said he absolutely would not be letting it go.

While you tried to pretend you didn’t just become the headline of the group’s gossip board, Jungwon drifted over to the edge of the campsite where Sunghoon was helping his girlfriend unload a cooler from the car.

Sunghoon noticed him coming and immediately groaned. “No.”

Jungwon blinked. “No what?”

“No to whatever you’re about to say.”

“I didn’t even say anything yet,” Jungwon said, exasperated. “I just—look, I really like your sister.”

“Ew.” Sunghoon looked genuinely distressed. “Ew, stop. Go away.”

“I’m serious,” Jungwon said, trying to keep his voice low and calm. “I’m not messing with her. I just… I want your blessing to ask her out.”

Sunghoon paused. Stared. Then deadpanned, “No.”

Jungwon nodded slowly, lips twitching. “Okay. Well… I actually don’t need your blessing. I was just being polite.”

Sunghoon stared harder. “You little—”

But his girlfriend came up behind him, slipping her arms around his waist and whispering something into his ear. He grumbled under his breath, scowled at Jungwon one more time, and then turned away.

Which Jungwon took as his cue to walk off, hiding the satisfied smirk on his face.

You, meanwhile, were still dodging Sunoo’s very detailed reenactment of how he imagined the night went down.

Yeah. Spring break was off to a great start.

The rest of the day moved in a weird haze of tension and pretending like the night before hadn’t happened.

You avoided Jungwon. Not in a dramatic way—just enough that you didn’t have to look at him for too long. Just enough that when he laughed with the others by the fire, your eyes would skip past him like he was just another log in the pile. Just enough that every time he glanced your way, you quickly turned back to your marshmallow, pretending to be way too focused on roasting it to golden-brown perfection.

Sunoo didn’t make it any easier.

“You know,” he said, flopping down beside you with a very loud crunch of gravel, “for someone who didn’t do anything, you two are acting real suspicious.”

“Sunoo,” you warned, “if you say one more thing—”

“I’m just saying!” He threw up his hands dramatically. “If I were trapped in a van during a thunderstorm with someone as emotionally constipated as Jungwon, I’d cry too.”

You shoved his shoulder lightly, but the corner of your mouth twitched upward.

Meanwhile, across the fire, Jungwon was deep in conversation with Jay’s girlfriend, who was nodding enthusiastically while pointing toward a picnic table. He looked more relaxed now, laughing softly, shaking his head at something she said.

And still, he glanced over at you.

Again.

You turned away, heart twisting a little.

When the sun began to dip, casting streaks of orange and pink across the sky, someone suggested games. Charades. Then Uno. Then some weird camping version of spin the bottle that you absolutely refused to play.

Heeseung and his girlfriend were the first ones to bow out, heading toward their tent after a playful argument about who knows what. Jay and his girlfriend were in their own world, laughing so loudly it echoed through the trees. Jake and his girlfriend cuddling by the fire. Sunghoon was trying to keep his girlfriend from jumping into the lake at night.

And you?

You were sitting beside Sunoo again, who had finally—finally—gone quiet, head resting on your shoulder as he dozed off.

That’s when Jungwon walked up.

His voice was quiet. “Can we talk?”

You didn’t move at first. Just stared at the fire.

Then slowly, you stood. Gently nudging Sunoo off you, you followed Jungwon toward the edge of the clearing, just far enough away to not be overheard, just close enough to still feel the warmth of the group.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “So… are we just gonna pretend last night didn’t happen?”

You swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” he said softly. “That wasn’t— I just knew you were scared. I didn’t want you to feel like you had to hold it all in.”

You looked away. “I don’t want to be someone’s challenge.”

“You’re not,” he said quickly. “I swear, you’re not. I don’t want to fix you. I just… I like you. Grumpiness and all. You don’t have to act okay around me. I’d rather have you yell at me and mean it than smile and fake it.”

Your eyes met his. He looked… honest.

It scared you.

So you said the first thing that came to mind. “Sunghoon’s gonna kill you.”

Jungwon smiled. “He already tried.”

You didn’t smile back—yet—but the corners of your lips twitched.

After the camping trip, everything seemed fine at first. The days passed, and you and Jungwon were a little less awkward around each other. You both would talk here and there, but it wasn’t like before—when you could barely stand being in the same room without pretending to not notice his gaze. It was comfortable in a way, like the distance between the two of you had shrunk a little.

The trip had brought something out of you that you hadn’t been ready for, but at least it wasn’t as terrible as you thought it would be. You’d even laughed a few times, exchanged some stories, and you might’ve even caught yourself smiling—genuinely smiling—when he said something funny.

But as soon as you heard it, it felt like all the progress you had made came crashing down around you.

You were in the common room of your dorm, just finishing a group project, when you overheard a conversation between Jungwon and Sunoo.

“I think I’m finally getting through to her,” Jungwon said, his voice lighter than it had been the past few days. “She’s not as cold as she used to be.”

Sunoo’s voice responded, teasing. “Well, it’s about time. She’s hard to crack, but you’ve got this.”

Your heart sank. The words hit harder than you expected. It was a stupid thing to be hurt over, but it felt like you were just a project to him. Another challenge to overcome. Just another box to check off, another thing to fix. Like you were something he needed to conquer and not someone he was genuinely trying to understand.

You thought you had found something real in the small, quiet moments between the two of you—when he’d make you laugh, or when you’d share stories that made you feel a little less like a closed-off puzzle. But now, it all felt fake. You weren’t a challenge. You weren’t his damn project. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what had made you start pulling away in the first place. You weren’t ready to be the thing he worked on. Not when it felt like you were just part of his “I need to fix you” list.

You turned away quickly, trying to push the sting out of your chest as you grabbed your things and walked to your room. The tightness in your chest only grew as you closed the door behind you. You didn’t even give yourself a second to think before you did it: you took your phone out and deleted his number.

You couldn’t look at it anymore. Couldn’t keep seeing his name lighting up your screen. You stopped answering his texts. Ignored his calls. Every notification from him felt like a weight on your shoulders, reminding you that you were just another challenge, just another project to him.

And as much as you hated it, you did the same with everyone else. You didn’t reply to Sunghoon’s texts about your plans for the day, didn’t show up for the usual hangouts with your brother and his friends. You couldn’t bear the idea of seeing them and having them ask where Jungwon was. Where things stood. You didn’t want to answer any of their questions. You didn’t want to be reminded that you had let yourself fall for someone who had probably never taken you seriously.

You didn’t even bother showing up to the study sessions anymore. Every day felt like it was getting harder to keep pretending everything was fine when your mind was so tangled with anger and confusion.

Spring break ended, and with it, the brief but quiet connection you had with Jungwon. He was busy now, the semester starting again. But even as the first day of uni came, you found yourself missing the comfort of those small moments. The awkwardness. The laughs. His presence. But it was too late now. It didn’t matter.

At least that’s what you told yourself every time you ignored his message or silenced his call.

You hadn’t expected Sunghoon to show up at your dorm. Not with his hoodie half-on and a scowl already forming between his brows. He didn’t say anything at first, just stepped inside like he owned the place and dropped his bag on your bed with a thud.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, not accusing—just concerned. And that somehow made it worse.

You didn’t mean to say it, not right away. But it all came spilling out anyway. The overheard conversation. The words Jungwon had said. The way it felt like you’d been nothing more than a challenge to him. Something to break through and fix. The way you hated how it hurt.

Sunghoon sat through the whole thing, jaw clenching tighter with every word you said. When you finally fell quiet, his hands were already fisted at his sides.

“He said what?” he snapped, already standing. “That idiot. I swear—”

“Hoon, don’t—” you started, but he was already out the door.

It didn’t take long for him to find Jungwon. He always had a radar for people he wanted to scold.

Jungwon blinked when he saw Sunghoon marching toward him across the quad, his voice sharp before he even fully reached him. “What the hell did you say to her?”

Jungwon’s face fell. “Wait, she heard that?”

“Oh, so you did say it.” Sunghoon’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s not what it sounds like,” Jungwon said quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that. I wasn’t trying to say she was a challenge—God, no. I was telling Sunoo that I finally felt like she was starting to trust me. I was happy. I wasn’t—”

Sunghoon didn’t look convinced.

“I like her,” Jungwon said, more firmly now. “Not because she’s hard to read, not because she’s a mystery or whatever. I like her because… she makes everything make sense. She’s quiet, but when she talks, it matters. And when she looks at me like I’m not completely annoying, it makes my day.”

Sunghoon exhaled and rubbed a hand down his face. “Just fix it. And don’t make her cry again. I mean it.”

Later that evening, there was a knock at your dorm door.

You weren’t going to answer it—until you heard his voice, low and quiet.

“It’s me.”

You opened the door a crack. Jungwon stood there holding your favorite snack in one hand, and in the other, a worn-out poetry book you had mentioned once when you were half-asleep in the van during the camping trip.

“I know you’re mad,” he said softly. “But can I come in? Just for a second?”

You let the door swing open.

He stepped inside, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. For what I said to Sunoo. For how it sounded. I didn’t mean it like that, I swear. I didn’t think you’d hear it, but that doesn’t mean it was okay to say.”

You stayed quiet, arms crossed, watching him.

“I talk about you because I like you,” he continued. “Not because I want to win you, or fix you, or prove anything. I talk about you because… I want to understand you. And I want you to trust me enough to let me in. That’s all.”

You glanced down at the poetry book in his hand, and your chest tightened.

After a long pause, you sighed and shook your head. “You’re so annoying.”

He cracked a sheepish smile. “Yeah. I get that a lot.”

“…You can walk me to class tomorrow.”

He perked up instantly, smile blooming like the sun breaking through clouds. “Yeah?”

You rolled your eyes and turned around so he wouldn’t see the way your lips threatened to smile. “But don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“I won’t,” he said, already grinning. “Totally casual. Just two classmates. Walking.”

You shut the door behind him, heart racing in spite of yourself.

The next day, you found yourself back in the cafeteria, still sporting your signature scowl and the sunglasses that hid most of your face. You weren’t exactly thrilled to be sitting with the others again, but at least you had coffee. And you weren’t going to admit it, but you were kind of okay with Jungwon walking beside you—just a little bit.

As soon as you took your seat, Jungwon slid into the chair next to you with a big, goofy grin on his face. He handed you your coffee, still beaming like a dog who had just learned how to fetch.

“Still grumpy?” he teased, nudging your shoulder lightly.

You shot him a quick glance, raising an eyebrow. “Always,” you muttered, but there was something about the way he was looking at you—like you were the best thing he’d seen in a while—that made it hard to keep the edge.

You couldn’t stop the tiny smile that tugged at the corner of your lips. Jungwon’s grin widened like he’d just won the lottery. He looked way too proud of himself.

Sunghoon, who had been sitting across from you, groaned dramatically. “Please don’t do that in front of me ever again,” he said, scrunching his nose as if he’d just watched something gross.

You smirked, giving him a little shrug. “What’s your problem?” you shot back, still amused.

Sunghoon’s girlfriend, who had been chatting with Jake’s girlfriend, turned her head and raised her eyebrows. “Hey, you and I are way worse than that,” she said with a mischievous grin.

Jay, who had been in his own world, suddenly looked up at the mention of “worse.” He nodded in agreement, casually leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, don’t pretend like you and Hoon aren’t way more obnoxious than them,” he added with a smirk, looking at his own girlfriend.

Sunghoon shot him a look that could’ve killed, but Jay only grinned wider, clearly enjoying his role in messing with Sunghoon.

“Can you not?” Sunghoon groaned, resting his head on the table like he couldn’t deal with his friends anymore. “I’m not even here for this. Seriously.”

You chuckled under your breath, feeling a little more at ease with the group around you. It was nice, in a way, to be surrounded by people who weren’t as exhausting as you’d initially thought. But as you sipped your coffee, you felt Jungwon’s gaze on you again, making your chest tighten in that way only he seemed to manage.

“So,” Jungwon started, his tone shifting slightly, “when are you going to admit you missed me?”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips said everything.

You were walking down the hall, scrolling through your phone, when you heard a loud voice—sharp, gruff, and full of irritation. You looked up just in time to see a girl backing away, holding her hands up in apology. She was drenched in some kind of drink, and standing opposite her, was a tall figure with his arms crossed.

It was Niki.

His dark eyes narrowed as he stared at the girl, his voice cold and direct. “You better be more careful next time,” he snapped.

“I’m really sorry,” the girl stammered, clearly embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to—I’ll clean it up!”

He grunted, not looking all that bothered, though the tension in his posture didn’t exactly scream forgiveness. “Whatever,” he muttered, before turning to walk away, leaving the girl still frozen in place.

You couldn’t help but watch as he strode off down the hall, his expression as nonchalant as ever. But there was something about him—something sharp and guarded. It made you curious.

Maybe this would be an interesting story for later.

Enhypen campus series || wanna read my short drabbles? check out @lynbels

503 notes · View notes

heesimp · 3 days ago

Note

step dad heeseung whos soo manipulative toward you, always shushing you and saying its okay, praising you and telling you how much better you are but you have to keep it a secret 🫣

unedited and sorry for the late responses. just a little busy!

content warnings: dubcon, creampie, mentions of making porn, stepdad!hee

++++

You truly don’t know how he does it. Heeseung knows how to say all the right things and make your guilt and worries fade away with a simple touch of his hands.

It started so innocently at first. His compliments felt too inappropriate for a stepdad, but Heeseung always told you he said the truth. Then it was holding your hand in public when the two of you were alone. It’s just to keep you safe so he’ll know where you are at all times.

Then it crossed a boundary. Heeseung kissing your cheek when he sees you because he says that’s what good stepfathers do. Touching your body because you look tense and need to relax. Eating your pussy because he wants you to know what it feels like should you ever get a boyfriend. Making you stroke his cock so you know how to do it when the time eventually comes.

And then there’s tonight.

Heeseung’s naked body is pressed directly on top of yours underneath the blankets like it makes all of it okay. He insisted that you slept next to him because his wife was out of town, and it made sense when he gave you those deer eyes and told you he missed you. Even when he pulled your ass close to his crotch under the guise of cuddling you, did it feel normal and common practice.

He’s no stranger to the feeling of your pussy, nor do you shy away from his big, leaking cock. Heeseung kisses your throat and puts you on your back as he slides your panties down your leg until his bare cock situates itself against your wet, puffy folds.

“My princess,” he mutters against your lips. The wet smacks, paired with the wet squelched, makes Heeseung feel like he’s in some movie. “Feels good, yeah?”

“S-So good,” you squeak. His hot, building tip keeps brushing against your erect clit.

“Doing so good f’me. Can I put my dick inside? Let me make you feel good, baby. Please let me feel you.”

Who are you to say no?

The stretch is almost unbearable but Heeseung shushes your cries with his lips. You focus on kissing him and keeping your legs spread open to accommodate his tall body. Heeseung’s hands rub circles against your hip in an attempt to soothe the pain, and he forces himself not to shove the entirety of his cock into you.

“Best pussy I’ve ever had,” he moans against you. He pushes another inch inside. “I could do this all day if you let me.”

“Please…”

“You want that?” Heeseung taunts. “Want my dick in you all the time?”

“I do, but…it feels wrong.”

He shakes his head and kisses you tenderly. “What’s wrong about having sex with someone you love? Don’t you love me?”

“I do…”

“I love you, baby.” He kisses you again and bottoms out, balls pressed to your ass. Heeseung hears you gasp and feels you clamor for his shoulders, wrapping your legs around him in an attempt to ground yourself. “I’ll show you what good sex feels like, but you can’t tell anyone, okay?”

And it goes like that. You cum first. He cums inside of you too, but doesn’t let up. It’s like your pussy was made for him with the way you’re taking it like a champ.

“So much better than your mom,” he mutters as he slangs his hips. The sound makes him so hard that he thinks he might burst any second. “We could be fucking all day.”

Heeseung smirks when you moan and when he feels you clench around him. He’s so hard that it hurts. He doesn’t get like that with anyone else.

“I know you like it when I’m inside you,” Heeseung whispers by your ear. His warmth breath makes your toes curl and paired with his thrusts, you wonder if this is what Heaven feels like. “Might take a picture so I can fuck myself to you when you’re away.”

He grins like a madman when you arch your back and moan.

“Yeah? My pretty stepdaughter wants to make porn with me, doesn’t she?” Heeseung’s dick lodges deeper inside of you. “Slutty little pornstar. I’ll make you cum and squirt on camera.”

“Oh god!”

“So hot.” He lifts himself up and braces both palms beside your head when he starts lifting his hips to plow right into you until you’re both finishing at the same time. He pulls out quickly, but not enough to spare you from the dripping cum that hits your slit and leaks down your body.

#heeseung smut #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enha hard thoughts #enha hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #stepcest series

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jinmindeulle · 3 days ago

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the great boyfriend | chwe hansol

Hansol looks at you from the other side of the couch. His eyes divert to the book in his hands, and then back at you.

“So…Symbolism”

“I know the green light is important, but I don’t know what to say about it.” you whined, taking your glasses off and rubbing your tired eyes. “I keep ending up with something really basic — like, ‘it represents Gatsby’s dream.’ That just feels too obvious.”

“Alright, let’s break it down.”

“Baby, it’s 1 AM. Go to sleep, I can finish on my own” you sigh, taking in his exhausted demeanor.

He had been the whole day on schedule, recording tracks, filming content and attending a variety show — Hansol needed to rest. And yet he was there, going over your study materials in hopes of helping you out with The Great Gatsby, and the midterm you were dreading for most that semester.

“Yeah, that’s kind of the surface level. It’s not wrong, but there’s more going on. Think of the green light as a symbol of longing. Gatsby’s not just reaching for Daisy — he’s reaching for this whole version of life that he’s built up in his head. Success, love, belonging… all of it wrapped up in that one tiny light.” he ignores your suggestion, and as much as you want to roll your eyes at him, you know he wants to be there, awake, next to you through it all.

“Right, and because it’s always across the bay, always distant… it shows how the dream is unattainable?”

“Exactly. That’s what makes it powerful. The fact that it’s just out of reach turns it into this perfect metaphor for the American Dream — the idea that if you work hard enough, you can have anything. But Fitzgerald is saying that for some people — maybe for most people — that dream is just an illusion.”

When he explained the topic so easily, so comprehensively, you wished you could ask him to study with you every damned night. Hansol showed interest and you also knew he took pride in being able to help you out. But that was your career, not his. And as much as you loved spending time with him discussing literature, your passion, he had his own career to care for.

“So, it’s not just that Gatsby doesn’t get the dream, it’s that the dream itself is kind of fake?”

“Yeah. It’s not that Gatsby fails — it’s that the thing he’s chasing was never real to begin with. Daisy, the house, the parties, the lifestyle — it’s all performative. He’s built his whole identity trying to be someone he thinks she’ll love, and that version of her, and of himself, doesn’t even exist.”

“Okay, that makes more sense”

“You wanna discuss the eyes of Dr. T. J. Eckleburg?”

“I want to discuss going to bed” you yawned, closing your notes and stretching out “Let’s go, Sol”

“I can keep going” he grinned, but against his statement, he left the book on the coffee table and stood up, helping you up and embracing you with the little force he had left.

“Thank you, love” you breathed in his scent, a warm feeling of calmness invading your body. “I appreciate this more than you know”

“That’s what boyfriends are for”

“And you know more about Gatsby than I was aware of” you chuckled, pressing a kiss on his nose. “When do you have time to think about all this? And read?”

“I like to follow your reading schedules. So I can help you out” he shrugged, as if he hadn’t confessed how much he loved you through his actions.

“You’re my green light. But luckily I already have you, and you’re not a fake dream. You’re so real and I still can’t quite believe it” you kissed him, feeling his arms around you.

“I’m the lucky one here” he peppered your face with more kisses, giving you a gummy smile when you giggled. “Let’s get some well deserved rest, love”

¸.·✩·.¸¸.·¯⍣✩ seventeen masterlist ✩⍣¯·.¸¸.·✩·.¸

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venusheartsyou2 · 2 days ago

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bloody birds | matt murdock

summary: your ex shows up at your apartment, bruised and bloody.

pairing: ex!matt murdock x fem!reader.

warnings: lore accurate asshole matt murdock! angst. no use of y/n. mention of blood, needles, stitches. obvious lack of medical knowledge on my part. both reader and matt are both so unbearably stubborn. mention of heather glenn? kinda? barely?

wc: 3K

a/n: i love matt murdock but he would be the worst boyfriend in the world! bear with me!

You wake up to your phone vibrating against your bedside table. The clock reads 2:39AM. What the hell? Your eyes are heavy with sleep; you couldn’t pry them open even if you tried. You scramble to find your phone. It seems as though it’s hidden beneath all of your knick-knacks. Mainly books and trash. You should really clean as soon as you can. You grab your phone, and see a no caller ID. Who could be calling you at a time like this?

“Hello?” You answer. You feel yourself freeze when you hear the voice on the other line. It’s Matt. Of course it was Matt. Only Matt would be this presumptuous. Only he would have this much disregard for you. Matt says your name, his breath low and hot.

“The hell do you want?” You say, viciously.

“Don’t be like that,” Matt starts. “I need your help.”

You’re quiet for a second, unsure of what to say. Was he serious? Did he think he could just walk back to you so easily? For what, another stitch-up?

“Who’d you hurt this time?” You say, passive-aggressive. Matt’s silent on the other line. He sits in the tension. “No one.” He finally states. “Open the door.”

You hear a knock on the door. You’ve got to be kidding me.

“You’re at my fucking apartment?”

“It used to be ours.”

“Are you bleeding out on my front-fucking-doorstep?” You ask, but you’re already up to get the door. You’ll see for yourself. Matt asks you to stitch him up from time to time, but there’s been a brief hiatus where Matt hasn’t been appearing in front of you, half dead and bloody. A brief period meaning 2 weeks, of course.

You open the door to see the bane of your existence at your front door: Matt Murdock, in all his awful glory.

“Not really. This isn’t the worst it’s been.” Matt answers your question, while ending the call. You stare at Matt, dumbfounded. It was pretty bad. Deep gashes are speckled all over his torso. From the skin you can see, he was bruised all over. His fresh red bruises were on top of his recovering yellow bruises. It was grotesque. He was grotesque.

“I don’t need heightened senses to know that’s a bunch of bullshit, Matt.” You joke, dryly. Matt chuckles.

You hear the voices of your concerned friends flash throughout your head. Whispers of, “He’s such an asshole.” and “He doesn’t value your time.” float in your mind. While, yes, they were right, Matt was never one to make it fair. How could you turn away a man who was near death? You weren’t religious, at least anymore, but it felt like a cardinal sin to turn him away. You knew Matt well enough to know he wasn’t going to the hospital. You knew he was Daredevil. He couldn’t keep the secret long enough. You were suspicious enough to snoop, and he was careless enough to leave evidence out in your old, shared apartment. You tried your best to plead with him and tell him that this “vigilante bullshit” was going to kill him, but with the way he talked, he seemed like he already accepted it. You couldn’t stay to watch it happen.

“Come in.” You say, defeated. You grab the first-aid kit that lays beneath your coat rack. Maybe a part of you knows you can’t get rid of Matt, and maybe an even smaller part of you isn’t ready to let go of him.

You assemble your usual “fuck-ass Matt Murdock first-aid kit”, as you like to call it. Matt never comments on the name. Gauze, stitches, gloves, adhesive bandages, and more are splayed all over your living room coffee table. Matt sits on the couch, after you frantically place a towel over it. You’ve done this way too many times to make the same mistakes. Like that one time he left a suspiciously large blood stain on your couch. You’re lucky Matt’s a lawyer, and that you were somehow able to get that stain out - with enough patience and peroxide.

You kneel in front of Matt and peel his blood-stained shirt off his stomach. You can never forget the invasive smell of blood thanks to Matt. You wipe the wet blood with an old rag. He hisses as his sensitive cuts are brushed over with the rough rag.

“Easy.” he whispers. You don’t respond. Your mind is filled with all the things you want to say to this douche, but your tongue can’t bring itself to move.

“I know you’re mad,” Matt says, “Your heartbeat is racing.”

“You’re being intrusive.” You mumble.

“I’m not being intrusive, I can’t help it. You know that.” He retorts. You place gauze on a cut, and start prepping your stitches. You’re not a nurse - you attempted nursing school, but you dropped out 2 years in - so this process never gets any less nerve-wracking. You struggle on getting the thread through the needle. Matt winces and looks away.

As you finally get the stitch ready, Matt attempts to grab your hand to squeeze. “It helps him handle the pain”, he likes to say. You swat his hand away.

“Need both hands.” You say, as you always do. Your obvious lack of care never discourages Matt. He’ll do this the next time he stumbles in your apartment. You start to dig the needle into Matt’s skin, and he reacts by gripping the couch’s arm rest. He bares his teeth, hissing with every poke and prod of his skin.

“You’re not being gentle.” He comments.

“Stop talking.” You spit out.

“Look, I know I’m an asshole, but can’t you go easy on me?” Matt pleads. You ignore his comments, as you have to stay focused.

After finishing the first stitch, you look at Matt. “You are an asshole. And you’re lucky I’m dumb enough to help you.” You say. Matt lets out an entertained huff.

“I guess I am lucky.” He says. He smiles enough to show his eye crinkles. You always loved his eye crinkles, so you force yourself to look away.

You finish the other two stitches Matt needed, and bandage everything up. Your hands are covered in Matt’s blood, a sight you see far too often. You scrub your hands raw in your kitchen sink, determined to get the blood off your hands. The water is scorching hot. The steam fills the air. Matt lingers around you, his hands grazing your old, shared apartment kitchen.

Matt wants to say something. It’s written all over his stupid, beautiful face. He chews on his lip for a second, thinking about how to open up the conversation.

“I still think about your banana bread.” Matt says, trying his best to get his words out before you inevitably cut him off. “I always ask for banana bread with chocolate chips now.” Your head drops and you let out a sigh. It was the phase of the night where Matt reminisces on the past. Your banana bread was always heavily praised by Matt. When the two of you were together, you were appalled to find out Matt had never tried chocolate chip banana bread before. You would make it for him frequently when you were with him, and you would add sugar on the top so it would have a nice crunch. You realize Matt’s getting what he wanted: for you to reminisce on the past.

“We’re not doing this again.” You say.

“Doing what?” Matt feigns ignorance. You wipe your hands off violently with a towel. Your hands are red, and you can’t tell if it’s from his blood or from how rough you scrubbed your hands.

“What do you think is going to happen if you try to make me remember the past? That I’m going to remember everything good about our relationship and I’m going to run back to you?” You questioned.

Matt shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I just missed you, that’s all-” Before Matt could finish his sentence, you cut him off by lightly chuckling.

“No. No, you don’t.” You grin while cleaning your bloody countertop.

It’s times like these where you wish you could hear Matt’s heartbeat, or smell the sweat beading and falling on his head. It’s unfair he can do all that but you can’t. You just have to watch how his face moves, but it never does. It’s always impossible to read him. You knew that Matt could see through your brash attitude. You knew he could hear your heart beating from out your chest, and that he could sense your throat closing up from all the anxiety. It wasn’t fair.

“You’re giving me a hard time.” Matt says, after a period of silence.

“Yeah, I am. You think I don’t deserve it?” You argued.

“I think that I don’t deserve it.” Matt responds. Positive self-talk. You purse your lips.

“What, you got a therapist now?” You ask, bluntly. Matt didn’t seem like the type to go to therapy, with his whole “independent-and-self-isolating” thing going on.

“Slept with a therapist. About the same thing.” Matt shrugs. You let yourself laugh. Thinking about Matt with other women wasn’t something you necessarily wanted to think about, but it would be the mature thing to do to not make a deal about it.

After a moment, Matt takes a breath before saying, “I could only think of you. When I was with her.”

“Oh, Jesus, Matt.” You cringe at his words. “God, that’s awful.”

“I’m sorry, I-” Matt responds through small awkward laughs before he suddenly clutches his side in pain. “Ah, fuck!” He yelps.

“Matt?” You rush to him, faster than you’d like to admit. Matt’s shirt is slowly stained by a new stream of blood. “I think one of the stitches ripped.” Matt mutters.

“Fuck.” You whisper. Again, you weren’t a nurse. You were only Matt Murdock’s next best option. It seems as though you didn’t tie the knot in his last stitch tight enough. It had unraveled. You’re quick to tie it back together. You’re quiet and focused, at least more than you were before. As much as the sight of Matt fills you with unbridled rage, you couldn’t bear to see him in pain. It makes you angry how much you care for this asshole.

You finish re-tying the stitch knot, and your hands are covered in blood again. At least it wasn’t as much as last time. You wash your hands again in silence, and Matt is left to watch you. He does just that, watching your every move.

His presence is suffocating. He’s this reminder of your past. Of what you would let slide, or of what bullshit you would do for love.

You want to say so much to him, but something’s always held you back. Maybe it was your desire to always be the bigger person. It was the smart thing to do, but it was never the satisfying thing.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed out there, Matt.” You say, finally. Matt looks up. He hears your steady heartbeat. You’ve had this conversation with him before. How hypocritical of you. To yell at Matt for bringing up the past but replaying this conversation, for old times sake.

“You know why I do what I do.” Matt says, flatly.

“You’re ignoring my sentiment.” You say.

“You know me well enough to know I’m not going to stop.”

“You know me well enough to know I can’t watch you kill yourself.”

Matt and you sit in the silence. Matt lets out an amused huff, smiling to himself. You and Matt were different. It’s clear why you two didn’t work out. Every problem in your relationship stemmed from the fact that Matt had to live his life as Daredevil.

A long pause passes.

“I still love you.” Matt drops. Jesus. “God, Matt.”

You shut your eyes and let that weird, awful feeling in your chest simmer. This was new from him. Usually, when he crashes half-dead in your home, he’ll leave after you force him out. Maybe you should’ve showed him on his way out before he even got the chance to ruin your night. Well, maybe you should’ve never dated this nightmare in the first place. But you can’t beat yourself up about that. As much as you criticise Matt, you loved him at one point. He gave you some of the best years of your life. Until he let Daredevil consume him.

“I don’t want to let you go.” Matt adds, pleading. He takes his glasses off, placing them on the countertop. He reaches for your hand, and you’re too much in your own head to stop him from grabbing it. He places your hand on his chest. His heartbeat is steady. That bastard isn’t lying.

“Please don’t stay silent. Say something, please.” Matt whispers, as he looks at you, pushing a thick strand of hair behind your ear. You nearly crumble at the soft touches. Matt has a way of making you forget. You would’ve forgotten about all the shitty lies and gaslighting if Matt would just spend a single night with you. At one point, you would’ve even forgiven Matt for all the bullshit. That was another power Matt had. Not just the heightened senses.

“I can’t fucking stand you.” You laugh. You’re not sure when these small tears fell from your eyes, but Matt was quick to wipe them away. He holds your face in his hands. You try your best not to forget about everything he ever did and take him back right then and there. You really hated the effect he had on you.

“And the worst part is..” You start. “I know you’re not going to stop coming to me to patch you up. And I know I’m not going to stop helping you. You don’t make it fair, Matt.”

“I know. I’m sorry, baby.” He says, in that low voice that always got you.

“Don’t call me that.”

“I’m sorry.” He says, while he finally lets go of you. Maybe he’s starting to get it through his thick head that this is over. No matter how much he begs and pleads.

You clear your throat and straighten your posture. “Get it together," you remind yourself.

“I should go. Thank you. For everything.” Matt says, as he grabs his glasses and heads for the door.

“Right.” You manage to mutter.

As Matt heads for the door, he stops as he opens it. “I’ll find someone else.”

“Someone else for what?”

“To deal with my shit.” He says, mainly pertaining to his medical care. However, a small part of him is referring to him. All of his baggage. It was clear you were trying your absolute fucking best to move on. As much as Matt wants to rip all of it down and make you take him back, so he could relive the best part of his life, he couldn’t do that to you. He’ll go and ruin someone else’s life.

You watch him let go of you. It was what you wanted, in theory, but you couldn’t ignore the haunting feeling in your stomach trying to claw its way out. Him leaving meant it was really over. As much as you put up this careless facade, Matt leaving would mean you would actually have to move on. You could no longer simply pretend that his absence didn’t bother you, since he was never truly gone. The sinking feeling of change started to terrify you.

All of this time you’ve spent trying to be the bigger person; maybe it was time to be selfish, and take a page out of Matt’s book.

“I still love you too.” You say. Matt looks at you, his face blank, shocked at your transparency. He laughs.

“You’re right. That does feel fucking awful. I’m a pretty shitty person, aren’t I?” Matt chuckles, awkwardly.

“Yeah.” You nod while letting out an amused breath.

You start to chew on your lip. You’re preparing yourself to be brave, to stand up for yourself. It wouldn’t be fair to Matt if he didn’t know why you couldn’t let yourself back with him. Although, he should already know why, at this point.

“Matt.”

“Yeah?”

“Your need to save others is killing you. Daredevil is stripping you of your life. You lie constantly to the people who love you. You give up time you could spend with others to beat people up instead. You ghost the people you love. You’re so willing to give yourself for others and yet you get confused when others try to give themselves for you. I will always admire your cause, caring and saving others because the system can’t do it themselves. But it’s just not realistic. You’re going to die. Some evil bastard is going to get you quicker than you can react. You’re not God. What if you’re too reckless and I’m not there to watch you die?”

You let yourself ramble, for once. Matt doesn’t say anything. How could he? No one would be able to react to that. Matt fiddles with the door handle, and the hinges squeak in an awful way. Maybe he does it so something else can fill his mind, so that he doesn’t have to think about what you said. Classic Matt, trying to avoid facing his personal problems, head-on.

Matt’s quiet. You made him nervous, and you can’t lie, it feels good. You swear you could hear Matt’s heartbeat. Finally, Matt breaks his silence.

“I’ll call you when it happens. So you’ll have enough time to come see me.” Matt says. He’s joking, in a time like this. You take a deep breath in.

“I’ll just have to hope that that’s true.” You say. No use in wishing Matt could take things seriously for once.

Another excruciating silence. Matt knew this would have to be the last visit. He couldn’t handle the way your eyes would dilate when you felt like crying. He couldn’t stand the way the air smelled when your salty tears filled the room. You and Matt sat in the moment.

“I love you.” Matt says, after a minute of silence.

“I love you too.” You say back.

“I’ll see you.”

“See you.”

Matt shuts the door. You’re glad he shut the door when he did. You bury your face in your hands and weep. The agonizing silence surrounds you. God, you want to throw up.

#matt murdock #matt murdock fic #matt murdock angst #angst #ex boyfriend #marvel #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #marvel fic #mcu fanfiction #daredevil born again #ddba s1 #ddba

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devosin · 3 days ago

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— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! episode five : white lies & understanding . . .

♡. Spotify playlist | Updates, every Friday !! — Vil Schoenheit x reader | Dual pov . .

Your face drained of colour, sitting frozen in place as his words repeat in your head like a broken record, "I just don't believe you can act", the words said so casually with a drunken slur, as if he didn't just put down your entire skillset and career all together. Your hands grip the glass tighter, as some form of bitter resentment washes over you—momentarily, but enough to burn—your throat hurts as you let the words of complaint and the slur of insults that you really, really—wanted to hurl die there.

The discomfort settled into a deafening form of silence among the table—and to think the two of you were getting along moments prior, sharing and recommending drinks . . ‘Way to kill the vibe, Schoenheit.’

The two of you didn't speak, seemingly waiting for the other to speak first, weighing down whether talking after that was . . the good idea? . . There was still some time to cancel the contract right? (There wasn't) . . . the fine wouldn't be that high! (1 million give or take, out of your pocket).

The silence draws on, until Vil takes the hint, letting out a soft—well softer response, "I don't mean to offend you, I'm a little bias that's all", he said, his words no longer having a slight slur to them, the tension must've sobered him up.

You paused, . . and let out a sigh, then smiled, "You're not good at apologizing, I hope you know that", you pointed out after a while, bringing the glass back to your lips, letting the alcohol burn your throat, melting the anxious bob down back to your stomach, your liver can deal with the problems later.

Vil blinked, and let out a breath of relief, which he quickly tried covering up with a fake cough, . . and you're supposedly the bad actor?, "It's not one of my biggest talents", he replied after a while, the words came out slower than expected as he stared down at the table, not quite meeting your eyes, "but I do apologize, it won't happen again."

"It better not", you said casually, then laughed at his wide-eyed expression, "It's fine, I didn't like you in the camping series either, so I guess we're even?", you say, trying to cheer him up a bit . . okay maybe you wanted him to feel a little offended as well . .

“I was a child!”, he retorted back, and you bit back a smile, “Not an excuse Mr. Schoenheit, the ‘great’ actor”, his lips curled upwards just a bit, this time he didn’t really make an attempt to hide it, maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe you both were a little petty in your own right.

After a while, the two of you were getting back into the rhythm of conversation, talking about some things here and there, and some casual word of the mouth gossip, because you both have an NDA and that shit isn’t getting out anytime soon . . All the while consuming a little too much alcohol for a small brunch meeting, and you knew you were going to regret it when you got home.

“Did you know I’m camera shy?”, you said randomly, and Vil looks up at you, eyes half-lidded, holy shit don’t make eye contact, you focus on the wall behind him, and he doesn’t really notice, “Really?”

You nod, “Yea, terrible, I used to get nauseous every time I was behind a Camera, even for just photos”, he tilts his head slightly in confusion, because yeah, that doesn’t make sense, an A-list actor, whose income is from acting, being camera shy, “Did you get over it? . . because . . “, he gestures to the air, referring to your career, you chuckle and nod, “mhm.”

“Yea, someone special to me said to start recording little videos for Magiciam, to get over it, so I did . . just to step out of my comfortzone.”

“Did it help?”

“Not even in the slightest.”

He blinks, and then the two of you chuckle, a drunken slightly slurred laugh.

“I personally loved being behind the Camera, I felt . . alive every time”, Vil says in response after a while, “Yeah I can tell” . . . “What is that supposed to mean?”

You avoid the subject, and he eyes you curiously, almost waiting for an answer.

The evening sun lighting was hitting you in a little too perfect position, you both were seated by a large window, but it hit you at a perfect angle, it’s like those shitty films about the ex dead wife, and the wife is always depicted in that yellow lighting which made her look ethereal? Like nostalgic . . That being said, you do look pretty . . ethereal . . and fuck look away.

Vil faces the other side, as casually as he could muster.

Which wasn’t casual at all, because he was too tipsy to play it off cool and collected, “You okay?”, you ask, and he grips his fork . . and yea you guys ordered food sometime ago, “Yep”, he says, with a grin, “totally fine.”

You nod, then a comfortable silence falls over the two of you . . . and suddenly things felt so peaceful, calming almost.

And maybe this partnership wouldn’t gut him out and make him go mental in the next few months.

Maybe.

Okay so now he’s just doubting his own words.

Making eye contact with a drunk Vil sounds like torture im ngl, his eyes are very hot, violet baddies for the win.

This is actually a soft launch into my new smau (Cater diamond x Reader), the first few pictures hint at it, so check out "For the record" if you like this series <3 , they're interconnected.

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— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! ♡. Synopsis : VIL SCHOENHEIT recently signed a contract under Descendant. Inc for his very own late night show, only to find out his co-star and fellow co-host is none other than Y/n L/n, someone he hates despite knowing very little about them and never having met them, previously. Y/N L/N, an actor who made their debut 3 years ago and hasn’t been able to catch a break since, recently decided to sign a deal with Descendants. Inc to host their new late night show “late nights & flashing lights”, as a break from acting . . Only to find out their favorite long-time actor will be co-hosting with them. Tune in every Friday, for a new episode of “late nights & flashing lights” to see if these two hosts can find a peaceful work-bond amidst their judgements . . and quite possibly even love? . .

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arabella0001 · 3 days ago

Note

Hiiii

Reminder for kakashi x foreign fem story

Please pls 🥺

finally FINALLY i finished

｡˚ fandom: naruto

pairing: kakashi hatake x reader

request scenario: kakashi is falling in love with a refugee civillian who doesn't speak konoha's language

cn: slow burn, lots of fluff, loss of virginity. over 6k words

༄

After the war, Tsunade was more than happy to hand over the Hokage position to Kakashi. Especially knowing just how much he didn’t want it. Tormenting him over and over again with mundane tasks—after all, she knew what it was like to have a mountain of paperwork stacked on your desk from morning to night.

As Kakashi skimmed through the documents, one finger pressed between his brows from stress, he sensed Tsunade’s presence before she even entered. It’s not like he didn’t already know the rhythm of her footsteps.

“What a lovely day to be Hokage, don’t you think, Kakashi?”

You followed her into the office slowly, hands folded in front of you, gaze slightly lowered.

“Ha-ha, really funny, Tsunade. Sure you don’t mind switching pla—”

But the words caught on his tongue as his eyes lifted—at first set on Tsunade—until he saw you, standing just behind her.

Tsunade gave him an almost wicked smile, bringing her hands together like she was about to applaud.

“Today, we have a new visitor. Or should I say… a new member of the village.”

Kakashi narrowed his eyes. Who are you?

He couldn’t quite see your face—not until you lifted it, leaving him utterly speechless.

No, he didn’t know you. Hell, there was no way he wouldn’t recognize you if he had. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a woman more beautiful. Your features were like something out of his grandmother’s stories about angelic beings—not quite human, radiating warmth with every graceful movement, mesmerizing without even trying.

But knowing his nature, Tsunade didn’t catch much of a reaction on his face (well, the half of it not covered by his mask), except for the slight widening of his eyes. She didn’t know that Kakashi’s cheeks had flushed with boyish embarrassment, mercifully hidden. Saving him.

And if his mind wasn’t already halfway to breaking, you started to speak—with a tone so soothing it felt like balm to his soul. He could’ve listened to it forever. Though, oddly, your intonation felt foreign.

You said simply, “Nice to meet you, Hokage.”

Kakashi responded almost instantly, voice flat but carrying a clear eagerness.

“The pleasure is mine.” A short pause. “Who are you?”

As your eyes were still locked on eachother , Tsunade couldn’t help but chuckle, barely managing to snap him out of the trance you’d put him in.

“Don’t get too excited yet, Kakashi. She’s a civilian refugee from the nearby forest. Got separated from her people after the war. She doesn’t speak our language.”

“What?!” Kakashi cleared his throat, his voice cracking slightly from how shocked he’d sounded. “Well… that’s a shame. I’ll make sure everything’s arranged so she feels at home here.”

Tsunade answered in a dismissive tone, heading for the door.

“Great. Because I’m leaving her under your responsibility anyway. I’ll only handle her training—her abilities are far too interesting to be taught by anyone other than me.”

But Kakashi didn’t hear anything past the first part. His responsibility? He couldn’t say he was unhappy to hear that. But his primal thoughts responded immediately: How the hell am I supposed to control myself around someone like you every day? Damn it, Tsunade.

You bowed respectfully before following Tsunade out of his office.

Only after you left did Kakashi sink back into his chair, head tilted up as he exhaled deeply, staring blankly at the ceiling.

༄

Kakashi had spent the past few days hunting for a book—any book—that could translate your language into theirs. Not that he cared about the reports piling up on his desk, now doubled in number thanks to his little quest. At least now he’d have a solid excuse when he inevitably asked Tsunade for help.

Or the fact that he’d spent more time reading about your origins than he had with his beloved comfort book, Icha-Icha. Which, frankly, was far more concerning.

He managed to carve out a break in his schedule and made his way toward your group. Kurenai was all smiles (and this time, it wasn’t just because Asuma was sitting beside her, toothpick tucked at the corner of his mouth—a habit he’d picked up to help quit smoking, something he’d promised Kurenai since she became pregnant).

No, her smile was clearly directed at you—you, dressed in something completely unexpected, completely contradictory to what Kakashi had imagined you might wear. A stunning, long dress that looked like it belonged to a fairy. Not that he was complaining—your training clothes, most likely chosen intentionally by Tsunade to distract him even further, already fit you perfectly.

The dark green, form-fitting outfit, complete with empty pockets likely meant for kunai (their weapons stock hadn’t been updated in a month), hugged your body like it was tailored for you.

He struggled to pull his gaze away from you—though you somehow sensed it immediately, your eyes turning toward him first as he approached with calm, measured steps.

Asuma gave Kakashi a slight nod of acknowledgment, accompanied by Kurenai’s warm greeting. Tsunade, hand on her hip, was the first to speak.

“Rough nights, huh?” she remarked, clearly referring to the exhaustion under Kakashi’s eyes—worsened ever since he began researching you far more than he probably should have.

Kakashi just shot her a warning glare, his expression friendly enough for public display, before she continued.

“Looks like our foreigner here has an inclination for medical jutsu. But also… brute force. Ironic, huh? Just like me and Sakura.”

The first one seemed fitting for you. But the second? He couldn’t picture you splitting the earth in two with a single punch. The more he learned about you, the deeper he dug himself into the pit of his barely-contained curiosity.

Still, his voice tried to remain neutral.

“That’s good news.” Then he added, “I found a dictionary translating her language into ours. We’re going to try teaching her to speak it… but also teach ourselves enough to show some respect for her homeland.”

He paused, collecting himself before finally meeting your gaze—those intense, difficult-to-hold eyes—and addressed you, a little uncertain, in your native language.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. I hope we’ll get along well.”

His heart nearly jumped out of his chest—not just because you spoke back, but because you smiled for the first time. He didn’t think it was possible for you to be more beautiful… and yet.

You responded with a hint of excitement, your eyes sparkling sweetly.

“Nice to meet you too! I’ll do my best to become one of you. Thank you for welcoming me!”

Well, Kakashi thought, looks like I’m not the only one who made an effort to learn her language.

His eyes softened, reflecting your smile with one of his own—genuine, though subtle.

Neither of you noticed the way the others were watching, a knowing look in their eyes. It was like no one else existed in that moment—just the two of you, with a delicate thread of tension starting to form between your worlds.

But Tsunade had to ruin it, a playful disgust bubbling up inside her at all the sweetness.

“Well, my time here is up. Good luck with your teaching, Hokage.”

She tossed Kakashi a mocking look, while Kurenai and Asuma followed her out—sensing ttoo, that it was probably time to leave.

And in that moment, Kakashi felt just a little helpless, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly before turning to you again.

“Ahm… okay. Let’s find a more comfortable place before I introduce you to Konoha’s world. Come with me.”

You didn’t understand half of what he said—but the tone in his voice was enough for your feet to follow him without question.

༄

Kakashi couldn’t think of anywhere safer to take you than his office. Even though it feels a bit too intimate for him to share his personal space this much, he figures it’s necessary—if he really wants to help you.

“Ahm, tea?” he glances over his shoulder as he pours himself a cup of green tea, gesturing toward the teapot so you understand what he means. You nod in agreement, a small smile playing on your lips as you curiously echo,

“Tea?”

He quickly turns to pour you a cup too, a little flustered by how cute you are in your cluelessness.

He hands it to you while maintaining eye contact. You accept it with a smile. His lips press into a thin line as he awkwardly moves to sit in his chair, shrugging off his Hokage cloak—which he finds a little stupid sometimes wearing it.

He doesn’t realize you’ve had red ears since the moment you walked into the room.

He glances at you again, unsure where to begin. But your curious gaze manages to snap him out of the hypnosis your eyes creates..

“Right, so… we should start with language first.” He looks at you for a second before translating it into your language and writing it on a piece of paper with his pen. You can’t really see from where you’re sitting, and he notices.

“C-come closer.”

He gestures for you to sit next to him, but ends up standing and dragging your chair over himself.

Damn.

He realizes—too late—that this was a mistake. His suspicion is confirmed the second he catches a hint of your scent. Or maybe it’s just your natural smell. It makes him a little dizzy, but he composes his voice quickly.

“Here and here—” he says, circling the words he just translated on the page.

You respond with a short but genuine, “Okay.”

After a few hours, Kakashi managed to pretend your presence doesn’t affect him. His usual seriousness returned. You’ve made it past basic expressions and greetings, which is good. He noticed you have a strong memory—though he’d love to know what your real personality is like.

Though his stoicism came back and he’s no longer delusional about what he feels around you, something unusual for him, but, on your end—you’ve grown more observant.

Since meeting him, you’ve started unconsciously seeking him out with your eyes whenever he’s around, and his voice sticks in your mind more than anyone else’s. Of course, you never want to disrespect the Hokage, but still—it’s hard not to wonder what he looks like without the mask. Or even deeper: who he is beneath the mask and title. How the scar under his eye only intensifies his gaze, pulling you out of the present moment sometimes. Your thoughts always arrive at the same quiet, unwavering conclusion. “Beautiful.”

Which is why, by the end of the session, you’re a little distracted. You’re listening—but not really. You nod, but don’t fully comprehend.

Kakashi has started to pick up on your little reactions and expressions. His experience reading people—especially what they don’t say—helps too.

So when you go quiet, his brows furrow slightly. He flips through the dictionary, then starts speaking slowly but clearly:

“That’s enough for today. You look tired.”

Blink. Another blink.

Now you’re no longer spacing out—your cheeks flush, and Kakashi can’t tell if it’s because of how close you are to his face or because he caught you not paying attention, even though your eyes had been tracing every curve of his face.

“Sorry, I—I—”

You quickly get up, prompting him to stand too. You subtly wipe your sweaty palms on the tight, uncomfortable pants you’re still wearing from your intense training with Tsunade.

Impressive woman, you think.

Kakashi watches as you move to the other side of the desk, bowing slightly, and say,

“Thank you!”

What surprises you is that you think you heard something like a chuckle from him. Oh, he should laugh more.

Kakashi speaks just as you’re about to leave:

“No worries. See you tomorrow.”

You at least understood the first part before stepping out of the room, not forgetting to give him a grateful smile.

After the door clicks shut and your footsteps fade, Kakashi lets out a breath, shoulders relaxing as he stands in the middle of the office, still facing the door you left through.

But somehow, now, it’s different—because he smirked. As he sets his ridiculously big hat down on his desk, his hair tousled in all directions, a thought settles in.

So I’m not the only one affected by your presence

༄

Today, Kakashi decided to show you the most sacred places in Konoha. First, he waited for you after your training with Tsunade, leaning against a tree with his arms lazily crossed.

It’s his day off, so his clothes are finally normal now.

Though “that black t-shirt without sleeves” distracted you instantly when you saw him from the training field. Your eyes avoiding him a little more, just to make sure it’s not obvious that his prominent muscles, painted by that red tattoo that makes him even more attractive, are affecting your brain chemistry. You don’t want to give the impression of unseriousness or, even worse, to behave inappropriately towards him.

It’s not easy for Kakashi either — he got to see a bit of your abilities. And seeing how your chakra-enhanced strength was acting was a true sight to witness. His eyes widened especially when your small fist landed a brutal hit into the ground — taijutsu really suits you. Still, he couldn’t stop his gaze when you bent down slightly to stretch your back after that hit.

Tsunade let out a theatrical sigh after how much work you did — meaning just giving you commands and pushing you to the limit — but she always loves to dramatize a little.

Her steady gaze, which defines her confidence in herself, settled on Kakashi as you both approached him.

“Day off, huh?” Looking him up and down before teasing him like she always does.

“Poor Kakashi, so little time for your disgusting books. What a shame you’ll miss out on Konoha’s streets.”

Kakashi let out just an annoyed huff — their sibling-like relationship sometimes gets the best of him.

“Wow, your observation skills are truly groundbreaking.” A pause. “Or not.”

Tsunade rolled her eyes at that, before he added:

“In fact, I don’t mind.”

Finally, looking at you and giving you a small smile before greeting you.

“Hello. Good to see you.”

It’s hard for him to choose the appropriate greeting expression in order not to overstep. So the words left his lips almost forced.

“Hey, Hokage-sama!”

You bow politely, while Kakashi slightly widens his eyes and waves his hands in disapproval, a bit embarrassed.

“Hah, no need for—”

Tsunade lets out a snort at that, tossing her ponytails over her shoulder with her usual assertiveness.

She didn’t bother to announce her leaving after seeing how you both act like teenagers — even if it’s quite a show — the slow build between you that she anticipated from the first time the lone wolf Kakashi laid eyes on you.

You’re not different either — women can tell pretty quickly when another woman has a thing for a man, you don’t even have to speak the same language.

༄

While you were both immersed in each other’s presence, your eyes sometimes slipped down to his body, which drew too much attention. You’re almost ashamed to admit you don’t want anyone else to see him right now or admire him. Not that he noticed anything, especially now, focused only on taking you to as many places as possible and explaining things.

“So … it’s … a …”

Your words start forming much better than before — he couldn’t help but feel a little proud of you.

“That’s …? Konoha Toshodokoro?

“Yes, indeed.”

Even though he talks more than you sometimes, somehow it helps you understand better. Hard to believe, but you actually managed to laugh together when he tried to show you how … it works, his hands miming clumsily — it was too funny how awkward he was, and for a moment you felt even closer to him.

Your laughter grew louder after he scolded you playfully:

“That’s mean, don’t laugh. I’m trying to help.”

But his smile (too big, though — he’s lucky it’s hidden) said something else.

Meanwhile, Genma and Kotetsu were leaning against a post from a common gathering spot in Konoha.

Genma sends a side-glance to his friend, then returns with a sly smirk at how you two look together, laughing and walking on the streets like you’ve known each other for years.

“Well, well, well. Such a sight to behold.”

Kotesu accompanies him:

“A short trip sometimes needs a break. Right, Kakashi-san?”

Kakashi felt a bit annoyed when he got pulled out of the bubble he was in with you. Even though you didn’t mind, the smile was still intact on your face.

His usual demeanor brought back his rigidity.

“Hello, Genma and Kotetsu-san.”

After considering their suggestion to grab a drink before heading off — seeing how Genma nods toward the place — Kakashi speaks again:

“Maybe next time. Still, thank you for your offer.”

༄

A year and a half after the war, things in Konoha were slowly starting to return to normal.

Missions weren’t as frequent anymore, reports from other villages and management issues no longer gave Kakashi constant dark circles, and people seemed happier.

Or maybe it was just the two of you who felt that way more than others.

The truth is, for more than half a year since you arrived here, you managed to learn the language pretty well. Slowly, Kakashi realized that you’re a person impossible to avoid. You even managed to make contact with your family, but you firmly told them to come here after you.

He still doesn’t understand your reason for that, because you haven’t told him. He can only be glad that you’re staying here, but why?

Kakashi is a selfless man, not by choice. Life taught him to fight and help every time he could, but in the process, he sabotaged himself and never let anyone help him too much. Not that he necessarily thinks he doesn’t deserve it, but he’s no longer an optimistic person — not since he was very young — and he doesn’t expect miracles.

And this is where he’s wrong. But “luck” is on his side, because you’ve liked him since you arrived here. You can’t say it was just his appearance, you couldn’t even fully see him, since he was hidden — just like his soul.

It was because his energy warms yours, his kindness, his awareness of his surroundings, his choice of words, and the chemistry between you? It hasn’t gone unnoticed by others.

You’re not someone who hides behind things, your boldness starting to strike when Kakashi least expected.

If before you were afraid of being inappropriate, that concept doesn’t exist anymore. Especially once you realized it wasn’t just in your head.

While you were packing your gear into your training backpack, sitting on a tree stump, a few strands that slipped from your hair — though it was braided into two — clung to your face and made it hard to see.

Tsunade was just waiting for you to finish, her gaze had already drifted to the usual spot where Kakashi waited for you, immersed in his book, which he had kind of been ignoring these past few months.

“How long is this little theatre you two are putting on going to last?”

You looked at her, squinting from the sunlight behind her, not understanding the expression.

“Theatre?”

“The play you’re putting on, with Hokage – student.”

You dodge the question, as expected.

“I think we are even friends now.”

Tsunade called your name and as you stood up, you maintained eye contact while she spoke.

“You know Kakashi likes you, right? You are a smart woman.” Sensing your dismissive retort coming, she didn’t let you speak. “Kakashi is different. He faced some terrible things and will never say it out loud or directly in order to not burden another person.”

You blinked at her, your soul starting to throb violently as she confirmed what your perceptions of him already were.

As a final note, she added, “Do what you want with this, it’s completely your choice. As a suggestion, what we all see here is that you two are alike and have a connection rare to find.”

You gulped, glancing distantly at Kakashi while he had already stopped reading, trying to figure out what’s taking so long.

Tsunade’s seriousness surprised you at the time. But it didn’t last long. When you admitted you liked him, she teased you almost every time.

Sometimes you think she created a monster. You. Because now, you act directly around Kakashi.

For example, you linger too much in his presence, you ask too many shady questions just to get to ask his opinion, you fix his hair if a leaf has landed on him. You insist on helping him with Hokage tasks even though he almost always refuses.

Which slowly kills Kakashi.

What shocked him the most was when you made him vulnerable in front of everyone during a meeting, exposing his sacrifice behavior and… his care.

While Kakashi was presenting the risky mission he said he had to personally undertake — even though arms supply management wasn’t his responsibility, even though many suspicions confirmed that intruders started stealing them and it led to distrust between villages.

Kakashi started speaking in that firm tone no one wanted to challenge — except, of course, Tsunade. But now, you too.

“I will go to assure the safety of the shinobi in that area. We need to find the persons responsible for this.”

And you didn’t think twice before daring to speak.

“As I read about Hokage responsibilities in the rules of council’s book (your pronunciation isn’t the best yet), this doesn’t seem like one.”

Kakashi’s attention shifted from Guy Sensei, who was definitely offering to come with him, to being fixed on you, slightly surprised.

“Not everything is written down. As a Hokage, you need to show people you care about their safety — and not from behind a desk.”

“Is it? Or is this your personal desire to carry everything on your own shoulders, like you’re used to?”

Everyone went quiet for a second. Until Tsunade, mockingly, gestured with her hand and said:

“A mission like this is insignificant compared to what Kakashi has been through.”

So you added, firmly, “If it’s so insignificant, I don’t think Hokage-sama himself would have a problem if I accompanied him. For his safety, of course, which is the priority.”

Asuma made a “tsk” sound with his toothpick in his mouth. As if to say indirectly, “She got you there, mate.”

Kakashi still kept his gaze on you — your angry expression interested him so much he dismissed the others in order to speak with you.

You sat back down, still a little upset.

Kakashi took off his Hokage robes, remaining in your favorite black clothes of his, putting his hands in his pockets and starting by saying your name to get your attention.

“Dare to say what happened?”

Your tone was slightly ironic, but there was more to it.

“Was I wrong?”

A pause.

“No.”

“So you don’t disagree with me coming as a guardian? Since my safety as a villager is more important than the Hokage himself?”

Kakashi was a bit surprised, though oddly, it seemed that when you’re angry, you speak better.

“You think I’m irresponsible.”

“No. I think your life is just as important as ours, not just because you’re Hokage. You’re important. And to me, as well.”

Kakashi felt like there was no air in his lungs when he tried to breathe again.

So you added, while walking out the door with determination:

“So from now on, you’re not doing things alone anymore, Kakashi. Not when I’m here. Unless you want to exile me from the village.”

You slammed the door a little, and that day and night, Kakashi spent hours processing the care behind your words. As if a small door in his well-protected soul had opened, and you’d stepped right through it.

For the first time since he was born, his instinct was to make a “selfish” decision and accept you in his life. But he still doesn’t know how.

༄

Since then, you made Kakashi realize he wasn’t alone anymore. Not just the kind of alone where you’re not surrounded by people—but the kind that settles deep in your soul.

You’d started spending time together outside of training, outside of missions. You carved yourself a quiet little space in his office. Rumors, of course, began to spread about how much time you two spent together, but everyone could see it—this was the best thing that could’ve happened to Kakashi.

Now, the two of you were buried in your books. You were still reading historical texts about Konoha—its language, its traditions—while Kakashi sighed behind his desk, flipping through today’s mission reports.

You peeked up from your book with a small smile.

“Need help?”

But Kakashi waved a dismissive hand without even looking up, too stressed to bother responding. You walked closer, placing your hand on his desk and leaning in.

You tilted your head slightly, watching the tension in his furrowed brows. Kakashi paused just long enough to glance at you out of the corner of his eye before going back to his work, clearly trying not to focus on how close you were.

“You can’t help, don’t worry. Just some mundane, meticulous Hokage stuff,” he mumbled mostly to himself. “I don’t know how Tsunade ever dealt with all of this.”

You chuckled quietly and replied with a grin, “I’m pretty sure Shizune was the one forced to do most of it.”

He huffed. “Most likely.”

Kakashi looked at you again, and his eyes betrayed him for just a moment—scanning you, lingering just a second too long.

You felt your cheeks flush, subtly tucking some hair behind your ear as you shifted and hopped up to sit on the edge of his desk, facing him.

Kakashi leaned back slightly in his chair and gave you a teasing look.

“Highly inappropriate for a shinobi, dear.”

You smirked. “Lucky for you, I’m basically your qualified assistant at this point, considering how much time I spend in here.”

Even if you let the bold words slip out, your hands were a little sweaty as you nervously fiddled with the edge of your short skirt, which barely covered the tight training shorts beneath.

He noticed. Of course he did.

“As your qualified assistant, is your job to motivate the Hokage… or distract him?”

You leaned in just a little closer, smile widening as you feigned innocence.

“Oh, I assure you, my intentions are entirely pure. I’m only here to encourage the village leader. Don’t tell me I’m distracting you?”

Kakashi shook his head, half in disbelief, half amused. He cleared his throat before replying.

“What am I going to do with you?”

Your eyes locked with his, full of unspoken meaning. Something deeper passed between you—something warm, quiet, and magnetic.

༄

The next week bring more promises ahead.

It was a normal spring day, the kind where everything felt a little more hopeful when you looked around and saw cherry blossoms swirling over Konoha. You’d all decided to go out for drinks and catch up.

You sat between Tsunade and Shizune. Asuma and Kushina were chatting nearby, not separated from the group but in their own little corner. Guy-sensei—whom you adored for how much he inspired you to work harder—was arguing with Kakashi over something ridiculous, as usual, while Iruka laughed along. Kotetsu, Genma, and Anko were too busy racing to see who could down a shot the fastest.

“Kakashi, my man, why can’t you accept defeat for once?” Guy’s eyes were red from laughing, his wide grin only making Kakashi roll his eyes as Guy shook him by the shoulders.

“Guy, please. For the millionth time—you were the one who lost—”

You cut in, feigning a shocked gasp. “That’s a lie! I saw Guy-sensei land the final strike!”

Kakashi raised an eyebrow at your blatant betrayal, while Tsunade tossed back another shot with a smirk and Shizune giggled sweetly.

Guy’s eyes sparkled dramatically.

“See, Kakashi?! She recognizes true effort and extraordinary talent!”

Kakashi shot you a teasing look before turning back to Guy, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

“Okay, okay. You win. My ego is so crushed—I think I need to step outside and recover.”

He got up with exaggerated exasperation, shooting you a short, private glance over his shoulder before heading out.

You couldn’t help but grin wider as Tsunade nudged you lightly, pretending to cough.

“Right… W-Well… Excuse me for a second, I need to use the bathroom.”

Guy gave you a thumbs-up, totally buying your excuse. The others were too distracted to notice—except the girls. Even though Kushina was clinging to Asuma, she didn’t miss it. She exchanged a knowing glance with Tsunade and Shizune.

You didn’t bother taking the long way to make your lie believable. You walked straight outside and found Kakashi leaning against the bar wall, clearly waiting.

You brushed off a speck of nonexistent dust from your dress. The colors you wore mirrored the season—a pale pink and white kimono tied lazily with a floral sash that framed your figure and bared the skin above your chest, where the curve of your breasts pressed against the short, fitted dress beneath. The gold chain around your neck held a sun-shaped pendant—the one they gave you on your one-year anniversary as a shinobi of the village.

You’d never forget Kakashi’s gentle hands pushing your hair aside to clasp it for you. It might’ve looked like a casual moment to anyone watching, but both of you had felt your hearts about to burst out of your chests.

You stepped beside him, leaning against the wall with your shoulder.

“Sobering up a little?” you asked with a soft smile.

“Not much of a drinker,” Kakashi replied. “Sorry to disappoint.”

His eyes drifted across your face… and then, slowly, down your body. He didn’t bother hiding it. Maybe the alcohol had lowered his guard a little.

“You look beautiful tonight.”

You bit your lip, shy, glancing down before lifting your gaze with an honest smile.

“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.”

He shook his head and looked forward again. “You always dodge compliments.”

You chuckled. “And you always deflect them.”

“Guess we’re a match.”

He meant it teasingly at first—but both of you froze for half a second, eyes widening at the implication.

A pause.

He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Right. We should go back in. The wind’s getting rougher and you could catch a cold—”

“No.”

He turned to you quickly, swallowing hard, searching your face for an answer.

“I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

He looked confused. “Wait for what? Did something happen?”

You shook your head, closing your eyes as your heart pounded against your ribs. You exhaled shakily, trying to steady yourself.

“No, it’s just—Kakashi.”

You looked at him—really looked. He froze.

“Kakashi, I like you. I’ve liked you since I met you.”

Did you really just say that? Or did he imagine it? That couldn’t have—

But when he saw your face again—your flushed cheeks, your shaky breathing—he felt his heart almost stop.

“Are you sure you know what that means—?”

You cut him off. “Kakashi. Yes, I’m sure.” Your voice was firmer now, tinged with frustration. “I thought I wasn’t the only one feeling this. But maybe I read it wrong. If I did, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—”

You started to turn away—but he caught your arm. In one swift motion, his other hand slipped behind your back, and before you could blink, he’d pulled his mask down and kissed you.

Your eyes widened for a moment before closing, melting into how soft his lips felt against yours.

Kakashi kissed you slowly at first, savoring every second, until your fingers tangled in his hair and you tugged gently. His mouth parted—and at the same time, you both deepened the kiss.

His tongue met yours, the taste of you overwhelming in the best way. All the tension, all the feelings he’d buried—it poured out in that kiss. Especially when you let out a soft gasp between kisses, making him lose control for just a second.

He didn’t want to rush. He didn’t want the moment to be tainted by tipsy bravado, so when he finally pulled away, he kept one hand on your cheek and rested his forehead gently against yours.

You were both breathless, staring into each other. Vulnerability shimmered in your eyes. There was so much there—too much to name. Your ears were ringing, your vision blurred from unshed tears.

“Kakashi…”

“Yes,” he replied with the same intensity, his thumb softly brushing your cheek. “I—I feel the same. In case I haven’t made that clear enough.”

You smiled so wide your cheeks hurt. “You made it very clear.”

He nodded, finally stepping back, placing his hand on the small of your back to guide you toward the door.

“Let’s go back in. I can’t use the wind as an excuse anymore.”

You laughed quietly as you let him guide you, eyes still glowing with love—and you never once looked away from him.

༄

There hadn’t been any more hesitations since then. Even though Kakashi had always been careful to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

He avoids openly affectionate gestures in public, but he stands just a little closer to you—his presence a quiet shield.

Kakashi as Hokage makes quiet mornings more peaceful. He hands you a perfectly brewed cup of tea without a word, grounding you with his presence alone.

He insists on walking you almost everywhere, especially after work, brushing it off with a simple, “It’s on my way,” even though it's clearly not.

He notices your favorite flowers and sometimes surprises you with one, leaving it where he knows you'll find it.

He sits with you under the stars after a long day, offering advice only if you need it—just that silent comfort that he’s here, and he always will be.

But something is missing. With not much experience, you struggle to find what exactly it is...

You both walk through the village together, the lantern lights casting a soft orange zigzag glow over the street and the breeze pleasant against the heat of an overly hot summer day.

You’d bought yourself a fan from a stall in the village center, waving it dramatically while already crying a couple of times—but Kakashi was only amused by your frustration. Your pouty expression was too cute to him.

He couldn’t help but glance occasionally at the slight curve of your cleavage, brought out by the heat, a bead of sweat slipping between them.

But you? You’d started feeling insecure, not aware of his thoughts—not that you had any experience. You didn’t know if Kakashi respected you too much, or maybe… maybe you just weren’t compatible?

Was your lack of experience that obvious? Did it not excite him? You didn’t know what to think… especially today, when your thoughts were more tangled than usual. Not that you were trying to get his attention—but you'd woken up earlier just to pick your favorite dress. The first one he ever saw you in, a year ago. Your hair was softly wavy from the braids you did the night before, and a subtle line of soft blue eyeliner hugged your eyelids. And yet, you felt like you’d just finished three hours of intense training with Tsunade, in yesterday’s clothes. Because Kakashi didn’t seem to react at all. But he noticed. Like he always do.

As you stared blankly ahead, slightly tilted down, he gently nudged your shoulder.

“Hello? Is somebody here?”

You looked up suddenly, as if snapped out of your thoughts, then smiled—though it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“A-ah! Haha, She's away for a minute. Lemme check in the back for you.”

Kakashi smiled back, but it's not like you could fool him, the one of the best lie detectors alive. Still, he didn’t push. Not until you reached your favorite spot—by the little fountain, where you sometimes picked wild yellow flowers while he likes to enjoyed the sun barefoot. Little moments when he actually relax. But is besides you.

But when you sat on top of a small mound of stones—placed by Kakashi during your last visits so you’d be more comfortable—he didn’t hesitate to break your usual routine. A strand of hair was gently tucked behind your ear by his fingers as you squinted at him, eyes narrowed from the sun, until he moved to block it with his body.

“Tell me. What’s weighing on your heart, darling?”

You let out a breath, half a scoff, half a laugh—because he always knows. Always, even when you don’t have the words.

“Fear.”

“Of what?” His reply was immediate, his gaze unwavering.

It took a moment to find the right word or the courage to say it.

“That we’re not right for each other.”

Kakashi furrowed his brows slightly, trying to ignore the pang that hit his chest.

“Why would you say that?”

You looked at him for a second before turning your gaze away again.

“I don’t think you feel the same way I feel about you.”

Kakashi blinked a few times. That didn’t make any sense. Did I miss something?

“What do you feel for me that I don’t?”

“Desire.”

You answered quickly—because if you didn’t say it now, the tension in your heart might crush you.

Kakashi didn’t move for a few seconds.

He bent one knee, just to see your face better, which you were trying to hide.

“You’re trying to tell me I’m not attracted to you?”

Your lips pressed together, nervous, and Kakashi didn’t look away this time.

“It feels that way.”

And that’s when he realized. He’d made a mistake. He’d always feared he’d be seen as some frustrated, sex-obsessed jerk. Less of a man if he ever let himself show what he truly wanted.

He lowered his head to breathe, voice muffled slightly by his posture.

“Wrong.”

You didn’t understand, but didn’t have time to be confused.

“What did—”

Kakashi swept you off your feet then, making you laugh from sheer surprise, your hair falling halfway over your face. “Kakashi, what are you doing?” Your arms wrapped around his neck as he took two steps before taking off into the air.

You felt your heart pounding louder than your thoughts, pressing harder into his chest as you flew. To his place? Yours? You didn’t care. Not really. You just anticipated the moment, even if you didn’t understand—Why only now?

Kakashi had one goal now: to calm down, and unravel slowly if possible the desire he’d held in since the first day he saw you. A smirk formed under his mask at the thought that you were finally about to find out what kind of man he really is.

When you arrived at your place, he didn’t even let you down to open the door—he’d already memorized your entrance seal.

Only once inside did he let you down gently, but the distance between you didn’t grow.

“I’m sorry,” he said, as your eyes met his—just for a second, before they fluttered shut when you felt his lips on your neck. Between the burning kisses, his voice grew slower. “I’m sorry I ever made you feel that way.” His hands ran slowly down your back, tracing the seam of your dress before sliding down to your leg and lifting it, drawing you in closer. “But that’s nothing more than a wrong impression.” His last word landed right as his lips met yours.

Your mouth opened immediately to welcome him in, a low hum of pleasure escaping him that made you burn—especially somewhere unfamiliar.

His hand gripped the back of your neck, deepening the kiss, and the sound you let out was so sweet it made him squeeze your thighs even harder.

When he pulled away just to let you breathe, you admitted shyly,

“I’ve never…”

“I know,” Kakashi reassured you softly, and that was part of why he’d avoided getting close like this—he didn’t want to scare you. His breath ghosted along your spine as he leaned to whisper in your ear, “We’ll only do this if you want to.”

If you weren’t sure before, his low, rough voice was enough to make your legs tremble. You could only nod and Kakashi could already feel the effect he had on you.

Fuck.

He looked into your eyes for a second too long—maybe just to calm himself—before moving behind you to undress you gently.

His fingers traced slowly over your hot skin, and goosebumps bloomed in their wake, down to the zipper that he lowered slowly, the dress slipping off your hips.

He returned to face you, kneeling until he was level with your stomach, slipping the dress from your body. You were left only in your underwear, but Kakashi never looked away from your face, making sure you were still with him.

“Can I?”

Your voice came out raspier than expected.

“Y-yes.”

He nodded, his gaze finally settling on the part of you he’d shamefully dreamed of more nights than he could admit.

They say fantasies are better than reality. That’s a lie. He doesn’t think he’s ever been luckier than in this moment.

His hand slid between your legs, gently parting them. His lips kissed everywhere, starting inside and outside your legs. And when he felt how soaked your panties already were from just his touch—your legs nearly gave out at his lips touching the fabric over your pussy.

He rose, trailing kisses all over your body, one hand unclasping your bra. Your hair covered your nipples, barely.

His breath grew heavy as he looked at you, his hand cupping your cheek. “You’re so beautiful.” He lifted your face and kissed you again.

As you feel too shy to be standing fully naked in the middle of the room, you urge him with a whisper.

“You too need-,” Your hands removed his mask completly, then his black shirt, your fingers trailing down his toned muscles before reaching his pants. Kakashi decided that was enough—he took your hands and gently pushed you onto the bed’s edge, kneeling between your legs again.

You led him in. At this point, you didn’t even have coherent thoughts left. He was a sight to behold. So beautiful.

Your trembling legs made Kakashi smirk wider as he pulled your panties down slowly. But you couldn’t look away. And neither could he. He let out a soft gasp when one finger parted your glistening folds and circled your clit slowly.

You moaned with flushed cheeks—and just as your legs started to close, he pinned them down.

“Mhm.” His teasing voice quickened your breath. But once his mouth found your pussy, your head dropped hard onto the bed.

You couldn’t believe you’d missed out on this until now.

For Kakashi, your taste was all he could focus on. He licked and kissed you with such hunger he almost didn’t notice how hard you were trembling—until your louder moans pulled him back. Your eyes met his, and that alone made you come, your first time, on his tongue.

He hadn’t expected it to be so fast. Neither had you. The pleasure overwhelmed you, and Kakashi let you squeeze his face between your thighs as his tongue gently cleaned you off.

He rose over you slowly. Your dazed, fucked-out expression was mesmerizing. You both laughed softly.

“We’re not done, sweetheart.”

You swallowed just before he kissed you again, and the new taste on your tongue made your cheeks burn again—realizing it was yours.

“K-Kakashi.”

His cock twitched at your needy stutter.

“Yes?”

“Can y-you—”

Your hand moved over his cock through his pants. It didn’t feel small. At all. You were a little scared—it felt big.

“Of course.” He took off his pants—but it still wasn’t enough. But Kakashi didn’t want to rush. He had to prepare you. “Shh, let me.” Hearing you whine in his neck, he sped up just a bit, slipping one finger in gently. “Tell me if it’s okay, okay?”

You only nodded, keeping eye contact, mind focused on the foreign sensation as his finger pushed in. It wasn’t as painful as you thought. You gasped at the slight pain, but that was it. The feeling eased and Kakashi was watching you closely as your breathing quickened and your hips started to move.

“Oh my—”

He silenced you with a kiss, swallowing your moans as a second finger entered you. Pushing harder, your thoughts blurred, reduced to pleas.

“P-please, please, please—”

“You’re gonna come again for me? Yes, sweetheart?” Kakashi groaned as your tears stung your cheeks, your nods frantic.

Your body convulsed on the mattress, mouth opening to release a long cry.

Kakashi left kisses all over your face and neck, drawing out your orgasm until his fingers left you.

As you caught your breath, you watched him take off the last of his clothes. Your eyes widened, but Kakashi reassured you before positioning himself.

“I’ll go as slow as you want.”

And he kept his word. You bit your lips so hard they nearly bled as he pushed into you. You felt so full—and he wasn’t even halfway in.

“Sweetheart?”

He looked a little worried at your expression, until you encouraged him.

“Keep going, Kakashi. Please.”

The rumors were true. It hurt. Like hell. But after? No one warned you how it would feel after. Or maybe it only felt this way with him.

Once his movements found a rhythm, hitting that one spot that left you breathless, especially when Kakashi noticed and didn’t stop—

“Kakashi, it feels so good, so good—”

Kakashi agreed. He tried to focus on anything else—your pleasure, your face, the wall behind you—just to keep from coming the second he entered you. He’d never felt anything like this.

“Yes?”

“Y-yes yes!! Please, please kiss me—”

He kissed you immediately, the kiss messy from how he hit inside you, your tongues battling, desperate to consume the other.

That same sensation built again, especially when Kakashi lifted your leg to go deeper. Your moans turned to cries.

And when you came again, so hard, it took everything in him not to pull out. You clenched so tightly, Kakashi didn’t last much longer. But before he could pull out—

“N-no, no! Please—in me, Kakashi!”

And how could he say no to that?

A deep groan escaped him as he filled you completely, so much it spilled down your thighs.

Not that you noticed. You both had only looked at each other the whole time.

He stayed over you for a while, catching his breath and your hand instinctively running through his hair.

Then he cleaned you off gently, moving you onto his chest. His fingers ran through your hair, caressed your cheeks as you smiled nonstop.

“So I was wrong,” you murmured.

He chuckled.

“Definitely.”

Your smile stayed, then your expression grew serious. He tilted his head slightly, waiting.

“I love you, Kakashi. A lot.”

His heart beat harder. He knew. Or hoped. But it had always been hard to accept someone loving him. And just as hard, saying it back. But now, it came naturally.

“I love you too, as much.”

Your insides tingled, hugging him tightly.

And Kakashi didn’t think he’d ever slept better than he did that night—something he’d only admit to you long after. About half a year later, by the time he was already planning to propose. He didn’t want to waste another second, knowing that kind of luck would never come twice in his life.

#kakashi hatake #kakashi sensei #kakashi x y/n #kakashi x you #kakashi x reader #kakashi smut #hatake kakashi #kakashi fluff #naruto fanfiction #naruto smut #naruto fluff #naruto shippuden #naruto x you #naruto x reader

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fear-is-truth · 2 days ago

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❛ THE 5 LOVE LANGUAGES ❜ - T. LANGDON

ⓘ love language : a person's characteristic means of expressing and experiencing love

꣑ৎ ‎ :‎ masterlist﹒request / chat w me ! ﹒꒱ note. i love him

words of affirmation ➛ ˗ˏˋ tate relies on verbal reassurance more than anything else. this need to be told he’s loved or wanted traces directly back to his mother—constance offered praise in fragments, conditional and inconsistent, delivered only when he performed well enough to deserve it. tate learned early on that affection had to be earned, and over time, that became the framework. now, your perception of him becomes the baseline for who he believes he is. verbal affirmation functions as some sort of moral buffer—if you still want him, then maybe he’s not beyond saving. ˊˎ-

────୨ৎ────

acts of service ➛ ˗ˏˋ tate will do anything for you, and that’s not always a good thing. he doesn’t just take your side like any supportive boyfriend does, he eliminates the opposition—if you so much as complain about someone, he’s already planning what to do to them come halloween. “i did it for you.” and he’ll wait, eyes wide and almost innocent, for your approval. in his book, love means devotion without limit. when tate does something awful in your name, he doesn’t expect you to be upset; he expects gratitude. maybe even a kiss. you don’t get to be mad. not without hurting his feelings. because in his twisted logic, you asked for this. you trusted him with your anger, and he handled it the only way he knows how.

────୨ৎ────

quality time ➛ ˗ˏˋ this one’s especially intense. tate has nothing but time—literally—and he wants to spend most of it with you. not necessarily doing anything, simply existing in the same room is enough. when you tell him need space, he interprets it as rejection.

jealousy is instant. tate doesn’t trust your friends. in fact, he fucking hates when you spend time with anyone who isn’t him, and he doesn’t always lash out. sometimes it’s this withering silence, bottomless, brown eyes slowly blinking, saying “you forgot about me” without words. that insecurity mutates into guilt-tripping & manipulation. “it’s just better when you’re here,” or “you’re the only light i’ve ever known.” he’s super possessive of your time because it’s the only currency he has left. ˊˎ-

────୨ৎ────

physical touch ➛ ˗ˏˋ tate has little concept of personal space. he’s constantly seeking some form of contact, and that need tends to override any awareness of your boundaries. this behaviour oscillates between harmless gestures such as holding your hand, sitting beside you on the stairs, resting his head in your lap, to slightly more calculated acts of intimacy: sometimes during arguments, he’ll kiss you mid-sentence, press his forehead to yours when you’re trying to think. when he spoons you, he presses so close like he’s trying to merge himself into you. other nights, he asks you—softly, almost embarrassed—to hold him instead. he likes when you wrap your arms around his stomach, tuck your face against the back of his neck. it makes him feel small in a way he doesn’t hate. safe, even.ˊˎ-

────୨ৎ────

receiving gifts ➛ ˗ˏˋ not particularly high on his list—but only because there’s not much tate can offer in the traditional sense. he can’t exactly browse for things when he’s tied to the house. but what he can give, he gives entirely. goes without saying that he he keeps every little thing you’ve ever gifted him. he gives what he can in return. stuff he’s made—love notes, sketches, burned CDs, a rose painted black, or knickknacks from his childhood. ˊˎ-

#american horror story #tate langdon x reader #ahs #tate langdon #murder house #ahs murder house #ahs season 1 #tate langdon fanfic #tate langdon headcanons #evan peters #tate langdon x y/n #evan peters x reader

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hyunjincanraptoo · 20 hours ago

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Hiii for your 500 follower event can I request number 4 that sounds like so much fun and delicious 🤭

And congratulations on 500 followers love! Here’s to many more! 💙

Hi, beautiful Cait!! Tysm, baby 💜 I really wanted to write number 4 cause I love Ghost so much, I'm glad you are the one who asked for it 😊

4. His hands moving lower during pottery night

Prompt list— open

Word count: 914

Warnings: smut

Alexa, play Unchained Melody by The Righteous Brothers

It started with something dumb your friend said over lunch one day.

“You’re totally disconnected from your feminine energy. You should do something creative. Sensual. Artistic”

You laughed at the time, but the words stuck. They hung in the air later that night while you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if she was right.

When you told Hyunjin a few days later, he blinked once, then gave you that crooked little silly smile you knew meant he was trying not to laugh, “Feminine energy? What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know. Flow, softness, intuition…. being in tune with yourself”. You waved your hand vaguely, cheeks warming, “Whatever. She said maybe I should try working with my hands”

He hummed with a teasing smirk in his lips, “I have a few ideas”

“Don’t”

He held up both palms in surrender, “What about pottery, then?”

You expected him to brush it off, but a few days later, he picked you up in the afternoon with a secret smile on his face, “You said you wanted to get in touch with your inner goddess. Come on”

The studio was cozy and quiet, and smelled like wet clay and damp wood.

You didn’t know Hyunjin came here but it made sense.

He guided you in with a soft hand at your back, setting you up in front of the wheel, rolling up his sleeves to show you how to press your foot down to start the spin, how to wedge the clay, how to center it with both hands.

You were terrible at it. Sloppy, tense, too focused. He watched, amused, as your mound of clay collapsed for the third time.

“You’re holding your breath, babe”, he murmured, “Relax”

“I am relaxed”

“You’re not. You’re overthinking it”, he stepped closer, lowering his voice, “Let me help”

When he sat down with his legs framing yours, something in you shifted. It wasn’t just the warmth of him at your back, it was the way he settled against you like he belonged there.

He guided your hands, but his slow, confident touch said more. He wasn’t rushing through the motions, he was inviting you to feel— to soften.

His palms wrapped over yours, grounding you. His breath moved with yours, chest to your back, syncing without effort.

And for a moment, it wasn’t about the clay at all.

You felt his hands slip from your fingers to your forearms, then to your sides, dragging heat and clay along with his touch. Your body tensed at first, but soon began to melt under his touch. You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath until you exhaled as relaxation hit you.

Then one of his hands slipped lower. Just a little bit, just enough to make you crumble completely.

Your mind said your clothes were gonna be ruined, that it was going to be messy, that you should've stopped him. But your body didn’t want that.

Your body, usually overworked, over scheduled, over everything, softened under the tenderness of his care. You leaned back instinctively, craving more of his warmth, more of his magical touch.

He responded in kind, lips brushing your neck, sending a shiver through your spine.

“I think I’m getting it now”, you whispered.

He hummed, proud of the result, “Yes, baby. You are doing great"

The wheel spun on forgotten beside you as he kissed just below your ear, then your jaw. You felt your stomach twist and your thighs instinctively pressing closer together. A different kind of magnetic energy.

He shifted you gently, laying your back on the studio old mat. Your hands were smudged with clay, but you couldn't care less.

When he knelt between your thighs, it was completely unhurried. His gaze held yours, and it felt like he was peeling you open without touching a single piece of clothing yet.

And when he did touch you, it was slow, reverent. His fingers moved up your thighs and pulled you open in a quiet authority, and when his mouth met you— you gasped.

It wasn’t just physical. It was deeper than that.

He sucked you like he meant it. Like he was trying to bring something back to life inside you. The part of you that had been dormant, hidden beneath layers of self consciousness and responsibility.

You were dizzy with his tongue— it moved patiently, precisely. And the way his hands held your hips like they were made of fragile ceramic, it made you feel like you owned the whole damn world. Like beneath all the pleasure he was giving to you, it also had a kind of devotion that you weren't used to— but you were loving every second of it.

This was the ‘you’ that had been waiting. The version that felt, that softened, that opened without thinking too much.

He murmured into your skin, “Let me adore you. I’ve got you baby. Just feel, nothing else”.

You cried out, thighs trembling as tension built low in your belly, and when you came, your back arched and it felt like release and rebirth all at once— like you found yourself again beneath his hands

Afterward, he stayed there. Kissing your inner thighs, caressing your waist, looking at you like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

“You’re one hell of an artist”, you panted, still breathless

“You are a fucking masterpiece”, he said, “I didnt have to do anything”.

Maybe your friend was right. Or maybe your feminine energy had never left you— maybe it had just been waiting for someone who touched like this.

taglist: @hyyunjinnn , @jehhskz , @mbioooo0000 , @nightmarenyxx , @rozsdascsaptelep , @thatonegirlonhere , @notmedina127 , @sweetlifeofjoy , @jeonginsleftcheek , @yelhsaa @my-neurodivergent-world , @hyunles , @lexlikesbts , @imagine-all-the-imagines , @mysterysold , @teenagepeterpan , @hangonhyunjin

If you enjoyed it please consider liking and reblogging. Feedbacks, loves notes and requests are very much appreciated 😊

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back2bluesidex · 1 day ago

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To Be Popular - JJK [Chapter 2]

Pairing: Social Media Influencer! Jungkook X Marketing Manager! Reader ft. Yoongi

Summary:

You love everything about social media - apart from the ever-growing number of social media influencers. You don't understand how these people gain followers and admirers just by installing a camera and doing very basic things in front of it. And you despise how some of them can do anything to gain fame, to be popular - even if it includes uploading their bedroom scene in pornsites aka people like Jeon Jungkook.But when your company launches a new product and your department head tasks you with signing Jeon Jungkook up as an endorsement partner - you have no choice but to chase him like the corporate slave that you are. However, things turn worse when you embroil in a dating rumor with him and have to keep the game going for the sake of everything.is it really for the worse or things will turn in a way you never expected it to?

Theme: Strangers to lovers au, fake dating au, kind of enemies to lover au, angst, smut, fluff.

Full Series Word Count: 26k

Chapter word count: 5k+

Warnings: tiny flirting, argument, that's all.

Masterlist | Patreon (For access to the complete series)

Taglist requests are open.

Minors, I am not responsible for what you consume online. So, act more rationally and stay away.

Chapter index: -

Drabbles: Imposter in the club

Or read the full series right away on Patreon!!

Only twice in your life did you have the need to sign contracts.

First time was your employment contract, the second time was your house lease contract.

The third contract turns out to be something that you didn’t even have the wildest dreams about - a dating contract.

That too, with a person you seemingly get irked by very often.

You have gone through the documents almost every day this past week, so much so that now you can recite the terms and conditions as fluently as your phone number.

The contract is pretty standard if you are being honest. There is only one term that you added: “Kisses are not allowed”. And it seems like both Seokjin and Jungkook have no issues accepting your only term.

However, your hands feel clammy all of a sudden when you are about to sign the papers. The thoughts of being under the limelight scares you.

And being Jeon Jungkook’s girlfriend means a lot of limelight in social media.

“You okay?” Kim Seokjin asks, perceiving your hesitation in signing the papers.

“Yeah.. I am just.. You know… don’t know what to expect from all these.” you voice.

Seokjin places an assuring hand on top of yours, with a little squeeze he says, “you can trust me, Y/N. I will do my best to keep your private life private. Jungkookie is not a bigshot anyway but yes I know there are risks of privacy breach, which will be my department to handle.”

You feel an odd sense of relief injected by the man’s silver voice.

But it seems like you spoke too soon because, “what’s up you two?” Jungkook appears from nowhere. He eyes the place where Seokjin has his hand on top of yours and narrows his eyes at you.

“You are late.” Seokjin directs his authoritative voice towards Jungkook. Jungkook sits down on the chair beside him and starts chugging down water. His Adam's apple bobs like a sin.

You distract yourself from the scene by signing the papers finally.

“Now it’s your turn.” Seokjin extends the paper towards Jungkook, who without a second thought takes it and signs it.

For a moment you wonder how he manages to stay disconnected from every worry?

You are as much of a stranger as he is to you. But still, he didn’t hesitate to sign like you did. Maybe this is another reason why you dislike Jeon Jungkook? Because he gets to be care-free while you have to care for every single move you make.

See for an instance - once you dared to pull an act of bravery and it landed you on a dating deal with Jeon Jungkook.

How fucking funny!

Your fingers tap on your laptop keyboard as you open the email sent by Jungkook’s agency. It’s a full fledged schedule for your and Jungkook’s first month of appearance.

And that starts tomorrow.

As for tomorrow, you will have to visit a cozy cafe with your supposedly boyfriend and get caught by paparazzi. Once you become talk of the media then the company will go ahead and publish an official statement.

Things will continue like this for five months. During the sixth month your appearances will slow down and at the beginning of the seventh month, the agency will confirm the break up.

Sounds pretty clean.

During these seven months Jungkook will be done with the endorsement deal with your company as well. Hence, there is no need of working with him afterwards, which is a pleasant news to be honest.

So now that you are already in the mess, you should as well taste the water and see what it brings for you.

“You sure will be okay with it? Do you want me to tag along and keep an eye?” Jimin’s concerned voice rings in your ear.

You are so thankful that the universe gifted him to you in the form of a best friend. From high school till now, there was hardly a day when Jimin didn’t text you, asked what you were up to, let you know what he was doing.

He is that one friend who never got away.

“I will be fine. Don’t worry. Go and enjoy your time, do something fun.” you add. No matter how tempting his offer is, you don’t want him to ruin his Sunday to look after you while you are on a playdate.

“But Y/N-”

“Jimin, I will be fine! I will keep updating you, okay?”

He sighs on the other side making you chuckle. “Okay. but do keep me updated.”

“Yes. appa. Yes.”

You check yourself once upon cutting the call.

Yeah, you look presentable. Hopefully paparazzies won’t have any issues with your sober dressing sense.

Once again your head bobs in the direction from where Jungkook’s car should be emerging. But you find none.

He is late.

Great. Another reason to hate Jeon Jungkook.

Just when you are about to pluck your phone out and throw a text towards him, you hear the rumbling sound of an engine.

More specifically the sound of Jungkook’s bike.

He comes to stop where you are standing under a bus stop shade and extends a helmet towards you.

You are way too busy grasping that you miss the object being offered to you.

“Do I have to ride this with you?” you point at his bike.

“It’s called a bike. And yes, you are going to ride it with me.” Jungkook thrusts the helmet towards you again.

“Thanks for letting me know what it is called. But are you sure I will be in functioning condition by the time we reach?”

“Don’t worry, my dear girlfriend, I will take care of ya.” he gives you a cheesy grin.

If something flips inside your chest, then it’s better to put off the subject and focus on the fake date ahead.

So, you put on the helmet, hop on his bike, and place your hands on his shoulders.

“Be careful, it's hot down there. Spread your legs a little more.” Jungkook warns.

You know, it’s about the bike but the implications of his words sets your face on a battle of blush.

Managing your gut and composure you reply with an affirmative sound.

“Did you… cut your hair?” Now that Jungkook has stripped off his helmet and is sitting relaxed before you, you can see the difference in his hairstyle from what you saw yesterday.

“Yeah. All by myself. I even live streamed it. How do I look?” You can see Jungkook’s face lighting up as soon as you mention his new hairstyle.

“You look like a twelve year old. Cute.” and you are genuine with your words. He looks less mischievous and certainly not like someone who would fuck on camera.

The tip of his ears turn pink when he registers your compliment.

Clearing his throat a little he says, “what should we order?”

“A flat white for me. And that cheese cake, strawberry one.” you say, awkwardly peeking at the menu, which is currently under Jungkook’s scrutiny.

You hear him chuckling and when you follow that sound, you find him staring down at you. His crinkled eyes, baby-like fringe, bunny-teeth on display and that beautiful smile makes him look like a completely different person.

He doesn’t look like the Jungkook you used to dislike.

And that spreads something warm under your skin. You start smiling at him without noticing yourself.

“Isn’t that Jeon Jungkook?” a second female voice comes from a little distance.

“Oh my god. Yes. and who is he with? Isn’t he dating that bully girl? Doona or Dana?”

“What? No. didn’t you see his viral videos from the club? That girl is his rumored girlfriend. They seemed to have a fight that night but I guess they are good now?”

“Oh really?”

Even though the spectators are trying to be discreet and silent with their gossip, they are anything but.

When you look in their direction, your eyes lock with one of them. She quickly turns away and types something on her phone.

Something reaches out for your hand that is placed on the table top.

It’s Jungkook’s own hand.

He wraps his big palm around yours and interlaces his fingers with yours. With a sickeningly sweet smile he says, “the act has started, we should jump into characters now.”

You tighten your fingers around him and reply, “of course we should.”

However, you are still unsure about where you will be after six months of this play. Will you be friends with Jeon Jungkook? Or will you end up being more?

“But how did you let Kim Doona come between you two if you were seeing each other?”

By the time you and Jungkook managed to come out of the cafe that day, it was already a mess. At least ten different people were trying to get your face properly, five others were trying to get a shot of your and Jungkook's intertwined hands and others were clicking pictures not-so-secretly.

By the time you were home, your photos were all over Jungkook’s fandom’s insta profiles.

And when the bomb (aka the official statement from the agency) dropped, your phone flooded with questions after questions.

You didn’t answer any.

Nonetheless, the questions reappeared, this time directly, as soon as you stepped into your workplace on Monday.

And this question in particular - it was the mostly asked one and you were ready for it.

Your colleague nudges you again, “come on, tell me, why did you let him fuck the other girl if you were dating him?”

“I wasn’t dating him back then.” you reply confidently, of course you had your own share of practice. “We used to be friends. But you know… friends with feelings. So yeah.. I was kinda pissed at him.”

She makes an O shape with her mouth.

“Is that why you lashed out on him during the meeting? I mean I heard that you…” she doesn’t end her sentence.

These people really work less and gossip more. You nod.

“Who confessed though? You or him? Oh- wait! Did you confess at the club? Is that why you two were seen fighting?” she throws her rapid-fire questions at you.

But you are pleased. It worked out the way you wanted. You didn’t have to tell the story, she completed it all by herself.

“Yup.” you popped the ‘P’ very enthusiastically.

“Wow! You are living a fan-fiction, girl, a proper friends to lovers au.” she squeals in her seat, “mind if I post the story on my insta? I wanna use my colleague privilege card.”

You think for a moment. If she spreads the story herself, it will be better for you. You won’t have to recite it all again and again. So you murmur a little “go ahead” and let her click a selfie with you.

Your computer dings with a notification from Yoongi. He is asking you to come to his cabin.

Great. Another round of interviews.

“I just checked the campaign schedule. It’s efficient as always. Good job, Y/N.” Yoongi’s praise brings a smile to your lips.

You murmur a little thank you with a small smile playing on your lips.

Every time Yoongi praises your work, your insides flip. But sometimes you wish for those praises to come as ‘you look good today’, ‘your dress looks nice’ and stuff like that.

Even though that brings a sinking feeling temporarily, that doesn’t stay for long.

“By the way..” it’s coming, it’s coming, “how did you and Jeon Jungkook end up together? As much as I can assume, you two met each other during the meeting for the first time.”

This. This is not what you prepared yourself for.

You didn’t think Yoongi would be too interested in knowing your relationship history, so you wouldn’t have to explain anything to him. But not only is he interested, he seems to be pretty observant of things as well.

Now you can’t tell him the fake story you just told your colleague nor can you tell him that the entire thing is fake.

So you clear your throat, “it just…. Happened.”

“Just happened? You seemed to be pretty livid about his existence that day?” your cute manager gives you a lopsided smile.

“But then you sent me behind him, to convince him or whatever. And things happened.” you turn your confidence up yet again.

He quirks a brow at you, “things happened after that club incident, huh?”

He is right. But not the way he is thinking himself to be right.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” you reply, as you collect the files with the details of the campaign and proceed to leave his cabin.

“The photoshoot starts next week, don’t be lovey-dovey on the set.” he teases you on your way back.

You only roll your eyes at the door.

Second fake date is: hanging out at a bar after work.

But you don’t drink on weekdays.

So that lands you on a negotiation and the date is fixed on the Friday of the same week.

You wait for Jungkook at the entrance of your work complex, a place where people would be able to see you getting on his bike very clearly. A strategy to make things public.

But what comes to pick you up is not a bike but a car.

A sleek black car that makes heads turn as it comes to stop in front of you.

For a moment, you think the driver is mistaking you for someone else.

But then the diver’s door opens and Jungkook comes out, wearing a black buttoned down with a pair of ripped jeans.

Your eyes are now the size of saucers.

You once gulp as you see Jungkook smiling brightly at you.

“Hey baby. Sorry I’m late. Let’s go.” he says sweetly. And you wonder how good of an actor he is.

“H-hi. It's okay. Yeah, let's go.” you reply in haste, trying to school your dumbfounded expression.

You let him lead you inside the car with a hand on the small of you back. He lets every passerby see his face, under the street lights, as if he is very proud showing you off.

Fake. It's fake. You remind yourself.

“You know, you are a good actor.” you voice your thoughts once Jungkook settles inside the car,

He chuckles, “yeah? Learned from Jin hyung. He used to be an acting major. Have been seeing him acting to be polite with his shareholders for all the years.”

The fondness in his eyes at the mention of the other male is so clear. You can’t help but smile. You have perceived the same glow on Jin’s face too.

“You two really adore each other, don’t you?”

“Yeah. You can say that. I would be wandering around the streets of Busan if it wasn’t for him.” you hear the underlying darkness in his voice and decide to poke no further on this matter.

“So, you are telling me that you made this story all by yourself? And this actually ended up making sense?” Jungkook is pointing at his phone, which has your colleague's insta post plastered on the screen.

“I told you. I am good at my job. Moderating success stories is a part of our marketers’ job.” you shrug. Your shoulders are already a lot loose after a few drinks.

Your head is on the cloud.

You feel good.

And Jungkook is being less cocky today, which is helping you relax even more.

Jungkook hums, “Great. The act is going well so far.”

Jungkook starts scrolling on his phone again, focusing on something very hard. After a moment of silence he says, “I won’t lie, we look good together.”

There is a smug smile playing on his lips.

You groan, “I thought you quit being cocky for this evening.”

“Hey! I am not being cocky. Look at these photos.” he protests, poking his phone towards you.

“I have seen those, Jungkook. And I don’t think I look good with you. You and I are totally two different individuals, from every single aspect. You match with someone like.. Like Kim Doona.”

Jungkook’s eyes shut for a second, “there is no point of saying this now. I missed my shot with her because someone decided to barge in my perfectly comfortable and peaceful life.”

“Wait. You had a thing for her?” you sit up straight on your chair.

“I still do.” Jungkook empties his glass in a sip.

You would have fought him and told him how you saved from a prolonged controversy, but you are feeling light-headed. You are feeling good. So you will be nice for just once.

“Well… I am sorry then. I know how it feels to have an unrequited crush.” you sigh, recalling Yoongi’s pretty face, “sorry.”

Jungkook seems to be caught off-guard with your changed demeanor.

“It’s okay.” he adds, “you have a crush on that manager, don’t you?”

The fuck?

“How the fuck do you know this now?” your eyes go big for the second time today.

“Come on, Y/N. Anyone with eyes can tell. The way you stiffed when he caught you and me at the parking lot.” he giggles.

“Ok. That's enough. Let’s go home. I feel sleepy.” you stand abruptly from your chair, swaying a little (thanks to the alcohol in your bloodstream).

Jungkook stands up too, wraps a hand around your bicep and mutters a small ‘careful’ in your ear.

“By the way… don’t you think you have to call a designated driver?” you ask on the way out of the bar.

“Jin hyung has us covered.” he shrugs.

On the way back home you look at the fleeting landscapes out of the car window. For some unknown reason… you feel upset.

You had a pretty good evening. No matter how much you hate to admit it, Jungkook is a fun company.

You two would bicker endlessly, then would slip into serious topics like economy and politics, and then all of a sudden you would talk about your favorite drinks.

He really doesn’t seem like that Jungkook you used to dislike.

But there is something that’s bothering you. And you can’t put a finger at it.

The car comes to a stop in front of your apartment. You wave a quick goodbye to Jungkook, who has been busy on his phone all the way back, and climb out of the car.

As you take small swaying steps towards your entrance, you hear the car door shutting loudly and then in turn Jungkook’s voice, “won’t you give me a goodnight kiss, girlfriend?”

You don’t know what possessed you. It can be the alcohol, can be your bad judgment, can be the sinking feeling in your chest and the desperate need of feeling something, anything - that makes you turn around.

You march towards Jungkook without thinking twice, standing chest to chest with him.

All the mischief drains from his face when you grab him by the collar of his shirt and smash your lips on his.

It should have been over in a second or two.

But what's worse is that Jungkook is pulling you close by your waist and deepening the kiss already.

Hope you don’t regret this when you are sober.

There were twelve terms in your dating contract.

You added one.

And you breached that very one.

The screen of your phone goes blank as you groan again for the nth time. Every time you open Instagram, all you see is you kissing Jungkook standing on the damn fucking road!

You two were being followed by the paps that night, which was obviously a part of the plan, and you, being clearly too drunk to think straight, kissed Jeon Jungkook on his lips!

And now those photos are circulating like wildfire.

Jimin texted you, asking for a clarification.

Seokjin texted with three teasing thumbs up.

And Jungkook texted with probably a thousand of ‘ㅋ’s.

All you want now is for the ground to split in half so that you can jump in there and die. That’s the best possible solution for whatever the fuck is going on in your pathetic excuse of a life.

Your phone dings with another notification and you swear to turn it off if it’s another mention in another insta post or another threatening DM from Jungkook’s crazy fans.

But it seems like the universe is trying to be even more cruel with you, because it’s a reminder of your schedule for the day - which is another date day with the root of your problems - Jeon Jungkook.

And today, you will have to spend time at his home, click pretty selfies and photos together highlighting how domestic you two are and post those in social media from both ends.

When you are about to go back groaning, you receive another notification.

It’s a text from Seokjin, “the car will be there in an hour.”

“Welcome to my home, girlfriend.” Jungkook grins stupidly as he spots you at his door. You really want to grab a frying pan and bang it on his stupidly round head.

“Don’t call me that when there’s no one to hear.” you reply grumpily walking inside Jungkook’s luxurious apartment.

You really want to know how much these influencers make monthly to afford an apartment like this.

“I call you that for you to hear, baby.” His cheesy remarks are just too much to take, so you just roll your eyes at him.

“Do you want anything? Tea? Coffee? Juice? Or maybe a kiss?” there he goes.

This is what you were dreading! The moment you were sober enough to judge your actions, you knew Jungkook will be having a field day the moment he sees you.

And here you go.

But but but - you aren’t alone in this. You definitely kissed him first but he, too, kissed you back. So he needs to go down with you.

“Oh why not, you definitely liked kissing me a little too much.” you bite back. But your words don't affect Jungkook at all. The smirk that he was sporting doesn’t go anywhere. It only grows more sinister.

“Of course I did. Are you telling me you didn’t?”

Now this is another thing that you were dreading to admit - that you actually enjoyed kissing him. His lips felt good on yours.

But you have been trying to convince yourself that it’s because of the alcohol swimming in your veins, even though you know it’s nothing but an excuse.

“Shut up!” you huff, hoping that Jungkook doesn’t notice the sudden rush of red on your cheeks, “let’s take some photos so that I can leave.”

“What?” Jungkook is now genuinely confused and you can see it on his face, “Do you really want to leave? I thought we were cooking together? I decided to live stream it.”

“Me and live stream? Are you kidding? There was no mention as such on the schedule plan?” you are sure all the colors of your face have drained with just one mention of a live stream.

You hate being the center of attention.

“Yeah but I improvised just as you did last day by kissing me.” Jungkook shrugs.

Where the fuck is the frying pan?

“Okay. I am leaving. Bye.” you haste towards the door.

Jungkook giggles like a baby, grabbing your wrist and stopping you mid-tracks.

“Okay okay. I am sorry. I promise not to tease you anymore if you say yes to the live stream.”

“You promise?” you quirk an eyebrow facing him.

“I promise.”

You don’t even know if saying yes to Jungkook’s improvisation was a good idea or a bad one.

There are reasons it’s both good and bad.

Good because Jungkook is not teasing or unnecessarily being smug with you anymore. Bad because he is hovering way too close to your body for you to keep being sane.

The kitchen is big enough, but half of the space is being used to put down cameras and a laptop. On top of that you two have to be crammed in a small space where both of your figures are being perfectly visible to the viewers.

You are mostly quiet, playing your part, cooking as you are supposed to.

But Jungkook is in his element.

He is so natural in front of the cameras that it feels as if he was born to do so.

Jungkook interacts with the viewers, reads their comments once in a while, smiles, laughs, and makes jokes. Under the light and darkness of the kitchen - he looks so youthful, so radiant that you feel a weird coil in your chest.

Whenever he brushes past you, you get a whip of his perfume - an earthy, woody tone with a hint of citrus.

His hair falls on his eyes - unmade - unlike all the other times you have seen him.

This - whatever this is - you don’t like it.

“Why is your girlfriend being so silent?” Jungkook reads a comment from the laptop. You pay half mind to him, occasionally smile a little.

But within a moment, Jungkook slides behind you.

He puts his big-ass hands on your waist, places his face on your shoulder and says, “baby, why are you being so silent?”

If you are seeing things right then his lower lip juts out while he tries to coax an answer out of you.

Your heart starts beating abnormally fast.

“O-oh.. I- It’s my first time being in a live stream… so yeah.” you proceed to flip the omelet, focusing on the food and food only.

“You guys heard that? She’s nervous. Don’t scare my girl away.” Jungkook fakes anger.

You release the breath you were holding when he finally removes himself from you.

You are now seriously afraid of the outcome of this fake dating contract of yours.

“Hate to say this but” you take in a deep deep breath “this is actually very delicious. Good job." You point your chopsticks at the carbonara that Jungkook prepared.

“Really?” he seems to be taken aback with your compliment “Thanks. Glad that you like it.”

“By the way, you remember you have a shoot with us tomorrow, right?” you change the topic to a more serious one.

“I do. Will your crush slash manager be there too?” his eyes stay boring in the carbonara. You honestly don’t know why Jungkook is curious about Yoongi all of a sudden.

“Probably. Why though?”

“Will try not to piss him off while acting.” he shrugs.

You scoff at that “he won’t be pissed. He doesn’t reciprocate, you know.”

“Are you sad about that?” Jungkook’s tone is a tad bit softer now.

“Not really. It’s not that I am in love with him or something. It’s a stupid crush, and will go away with time.”

“Have you ever tried asking him out?”

“Not really.”

“Then, have you ever asked him to hook up with you?”

You choke on your omelet.

“What- the fuck” you cough “no! Why would I ask him something like that?”

“Why won’t you though? Don’t you want to have sex with him? I mean you like him, it’s only natural.” Jungkook explains matter-of-factly.

“No. it’s not natural for me. I need to be at least friends with a person to have sex. And I am not friends with Yoongi. We barely even talk out of work.”

“Oh.” Jungkook thinks for a moment “So that guy friend of yours - what was his name again… Jimin? Is he your…”

“Oh my god, Jungkook! No! I am not currently sleeping with anyone. I have not had sex for like eighteen months.” It's your frustration which is speaking now.

“What? Wait! What are you? A nun?” Jungkook’s eyes go wide at your admission.

Embarrassment eats you away, like you were eating the carbonara a few minutes ago, “I- I mean. I am not that horny.”

“Then… Do you want to sleep with me?”

At first you think you misheard it. So you stare at Jungkook with big eyes.

His expression is rather serious and you hate how it affects you.

“What did you just say?” you finally let your voice be heard.

“You heard me.”

“Jungkook, please stop kidding. This is not funny.”

“I am serious.” he sighs.

“Look. I can’t go around and sleep for fun since we have an act going on here. You, too, seem like you need to blow off some steam. And honestly, tell me where is your benefit from all these? It’s your company that’s ripping the fruit, not you.”

Jungkook’s words register in your brain. He makes perfect sense. You have no benefits whatsoever from all these.

“It’s just an offer, you can decline it if you want but… we can- we can have some fun like adults. No one has to know, nothing will get fucked up since we are not even close to begin with.” Jungkook reasons.

He is right. You have nothing to lose if things go down and this won’t be the first time having casual sex with someone you know. There is absolutely no risk, no feelings on the line.

Should you really consider the idea?

The scenes from that grainy video start clouding your brain.

A tiny voice in your mind says, “why not?”

read the full series right away on Patreon!! (Start from part 7)

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anakinstwinklebunny · 19 hours ago

Text

PAIRING: sweetheart!anakin x f!reader

FLUFF ❦

The bedroom you were snugly in was dressed in quiet, its walls wrapped up in that heavy kind of silence that only came after a long, exhausting day of twins' parents. As to in their matter, they were finally asleep, snuggled in their sheets after ANAKIN SKYWALKER's bedtime story about a princess and a knight - you quickly had to come up with something else, knowing Leia’s full dislike for such stories. She was the epitome of the definition of not needing a knight to survive. She could have had it all done by herself, at least that's what she's saying.

You laid on the bed, tucked under the covers, chin propped on your hand, watching him move around the room.

Anakin was pulling an old, loose t-shirt over his head—the one that always smelled like him, the one that clung to his shoulders and chest before falling soft over his abs, the lines of his body still sharp and distractingly perfect even after a full day of wrangling toddlers and working.

You stared a little too long. Stared until your stomach knotted itself up in a sad, ugly kind of way.

Because there he was, looking like he could be carved out of stone —

and then there was you.

You tugged the blanket a little higher up your body without even thinking, voice barely a whisper when you finally spoke without much thought; it was already eating you alive.

"…Annie?"

He turned immediately, sensing the shift in your mood like he always did. "Yeah, sweetheart?"

You hesitated, biting your lip.

You hated how small you sounded.

How insecure. But with his eyes gazing straight at yours as he slipped into the black shirt he used to bed, you truly understood what you just caught yourself in. It wasn't like you wanted to weight him down with your problems, he already had a lot on his plate. Yet at the same time, if you'd just brush it off, he'd know something is off, and won't let go of the subject till you'd eventually tell him

You braced yourself at the possible worst thing that could ever leave your mouth; you took a deep breath in, let it sink for a moment

"Are you still… attracted to me?" The words left your mouth too fast, too rushed, as if saying them quicker would somehow make them hurt less than they already did.

Anakin froze, a soft, almost pained crease forming between his brows. "What?"

You dropped your gaze to the blanket, fidgeting with a loose thread.

"I just—" you sighed, voice starting to crack.."I know you love me. But I want you to, you know… want me too. Not just because I'm the mother of your kids or your wife or whatever. But because… because you actually want me." You trailed off, cheeks burning, shame curling in your chest. You didn't dare to look up at him; there was no courage for that anymore "I just feel so… gross lately. Tired. Soft. Fat. Not like the girls you work with or--or just see on TV..And sometimes I look at you—" You swallowed hard. "—and I wonder if maybe you're just staying nice things because you're a good man..and not..because..you mean them.."

The room was so still you could hear the distant hum of the air conditioning.

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. You thought he might get mad at you; for doubting his love for you when he shows it everyday. He didn't say anything, and you really braced yourself to just brush off the subject but before you could even open your mouth to say anything, you saw him cross the room in three long strides—

and then his hands moved to you, pulling the blanket down, not to expose, but to pull you closer to himself. Anakin knelt at the side of the bed, face right there, one hand cupping your jaw so gently it made your throat tighten.

His thumb brushed across your cheek. Blue eyes burned into your watery ones, being so intense, so present; holding so much love.

"Sweetheart," he said, voice rough and low. "I’m gonna say this once. And you're gonna listen to me, alright?"

You nodded, tears already threatening to spill.

"I don’t just love you," Anakin murmured, his forehead dropping to yours. "I am in love with you. Every fucking day. Every hour."

You whimpered softly, squeezing your eyes shut.

"And your body—" his large hands slid down to your hips, squeezing firmly, grounding. "—your body is the most beautiful thing i could ever imagine looking at. It gave me our babies. It holds my heart. It’s the first thing I reach for in the morning and the last thing I hold at night. It’s perfect, you are perfect for me" with that he kissed the tip of your nose, then your cheeks, then your trembling mouth.

"I don't want anyone else," he whispered against your lips. "I only want you. Always have. Always will."

You broke then, a little sob escaping with hiccuped apologies, and Anakin shushed you gently, pulling you into his chest, tucking your head under his chin. With one hand holding your back, the other twisted to the side to turn the lights off, causing the darkness to touch the room. Then he cuddled closer to you, keeping a rhytmhmical tune slip from his mouth as he pulled a duvet over both of you, tucking you into the bed. "You don’t have to apologize," he said softly, rocking you slightly.

"You’re allowed to feel. You’re allowed to hurt. But don’t you dare talk about my girl like she’s anything less than a fucking masterpiece."

You clung to him, breathing in his scent, feeling the steady thump of his heart against your ear. And for the first time in days, the knot in your chest started to unravel. Anakin shifted slightly, hands stroking your back.

"You wanna know what I see when I look at you?" he murmured, voice thick with emotion.

You nodded wordlessly.

"I see my home," he whispered. "My safe place. The love of my life."

You sniffled, laughing a little wetly. "You’re sappy."

His lips curled in a little tired smile, a light sound of silent chuckle briefly following "I don't remember you complaining before, Rapunzel" he teased, kissing your hair once again "Thought you loved your Flynn Rider"

And god, you did.

You loved him.

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thinkingoutlouddblog · 2 days ago

Text

the agreement - s.r.

tags: fuck buddy!/friends with benefits!spencer reid, soft dom!spencer

content warning: smut 18+, idiots who are actually in love but can't admit it to themselves or each other

You know it’s been a particularly bad case when Spencer Reid comes knocking on your front door.

When he needs to forget. That is your agreement.

Spencer allows you a split second to register that it is him you have opened the door to, and then he is surging forward, grabbing your face with both hands. The kiss is needy and harsh. He kisses you like he wants to devour you. This is how you know you are in for a good night. Hot, heavy and rough, just how you like him.

You realise Spencer has been walking you backwards into your apartment when he kicks the door shut with his foot, his lips never leaving yours. He continues guiding you backwards until your back hits the wall.

You gasp as his face drops to your neck, finding the spot you like best straight away. Repeat visits allowed Spencer to learn you inside and out. The members of the BAU were in no danger of running out of horrible things that required forgetting. Granted, he was as quick a study at pleasing you as he was at everything else.

Spencer’s hand moved up and under your top, thumbing your nipple the way he knew would draw sweet sounds out of your mouth. You whimpered, and there was no thought in his head but good girl. Satisfied, he returned to your lips and pressed close, allowing you to feel the hardness you had created.

You part your legs, trying to get his hardness as close to your core as you can, already needing some kind of relief from the need pooling in your belly, but he pulls back and puts a degree of space between you for the first time that night.

It’s late and you’re in your pyjamas. You should be asleep already - you have work the next morning. But even though Spencer rarely calls or texts ahead you had a feeling you would be seeing him tonight. So you stayed awake and put on one of your cuter pairs of pjs. Though you don’t know why you bothered when Spencer barely looks at them and pulls the top up over your head within two minutes of walking in the door.

He turns you so your front is against the wall and pulls down your shorts to leave you bare and waiting for him. Spencer doesn’t need to check to see if you’re wet but does it anyway just for the satisfaction of licking you off his fingers.

You hear his belt buckle clink and within a moment he’s pushing inside of you in a fluid motion.

Your gasp nearly pushes Spencer over the edge. He stills inside of you and gently bites down on your shoulder to keep control of himself. It has you pushing back into him, needing more.

Spencer drops his hand down to your front.

Less than fifty percent of women are able to reach orgasm from penetrative intercourse alone, you hear Spencer’s voice in your mind from one of your first trysts.

He finds your clit immediately, finally thrusting upwards as he does. You cry out his name and you realise absently it is the first time either one of you has spoken. His groan into your ear has you like putty underneath him. One more groan like that, you think, and I will tip over the edge already.

Spencer sets a relentless pace. It is quick and sloppy and needy and the heat grows within you faster than ever. You make no effort to suppress your moans and whines as he hits that most sensitive spot inside you over and over. Spencer loves to hear how much he pleases you, he made that very clear. It is one of the many ways you fill the well of confidence he draws upon to be so forward with you in the bedroom.

Spencer had never been bossy in the bedroom before you. With you he never had to second guess himself. You made your needs plain to him before you ever even slept together.

I need someone who doesn’t give me time to second guess, you had told him, I want them to take control of the situation, make sure I’m taken care of. Does that make sense?

It had to Spencer.

He had never considered showing dominance over a sexual partner in that way until that first conversation. It had never appealed to him until then either. The dynamic you were seeking required a great deal of trust in your partner. To understand you well enough to take the lead and still satisfy you, not just themselves. The thought of him being that person you put your trust into, it awoke something in him he didn’t know had been there.

Spencer decided then and there that he would become the person you described that night. Luckily his expertise in behaviour and his particular interest in you made him a fast learner.

Spencer’s soft pants turn you to liquid. You reach around behind you to pull him closer, deeper. His pace slows, his thrusts deepen and you know he is nearly there.

You say his name one more time and that is all the warning he gets before you are tensing around him, pulling you both over the edge. Spencer spills inside of you as you come in waves. You freeze there, unmoving as Spencer waits for the last aftershocks of your orgasm to pass.

Once you relax underneath him, Spencer whispers your name, so softly, in such contrast from the way he took you five steps from your front door. He nibbles your ear before placing gentle kisses along your throat. Warmth seeps out from your chest until you feel it all the way down to your toes, almost as pleasurable as the sex itself. Almost.

Spencer places one last firm kiss to your shoulder before he is pulling back and slipping out of you. You whimper at the loss.

“I know baby,” he murmurs.

He turns you back around to face him. You place your back against the wall. Spencer brushes the hair out of your eyes to gain a better visual of your face. His blue eyes search yours, as they always do after an encounter, for any cause for concern. You take the opportunity, as you always do, to admire his sweet face. Still a slight furrow between his brow, you note. You’ll spend the rest of the night trying to remove it.

“Wash the day off?” You ask him.

He gives you a small smile with his nod of assent. It has become part of your little ritual. Sex. Shower. More sex. A normal fuck buddy would go home after (you hated this term, and would never use it in front of him, but the reality was you could not call your situation friends with benefits when there was no friendship of which to speak when you only saw each other for sex).

There is nothing sexual, however, about the shower you share. You take your time washing his hair, massaging his scalp deeply in an attempt to get him to relax.

“You spoil me,” Spencer tells you as you get the shampoo ready.

“You deserve spoiling,” you punctuate your point with a kiss to the tip of his nose. You’ll spend the rest of the week thinking about how he looked, wet hair, naked in your shower with that pleased little smile on his face.

You make him eat a bowl of cereal in your bed, always concerned he isn’t eating enough. He obliges to make you happy but makes you promise that the next meal he will get to eat is you. You are glad to make that deal.

Once he’s had his fill between your thighs you pull him onto you, wanting to feel the weight of him against you. Your hand finds his scalp once again and his body softens into you.

“Tell me about what you’re reading at the moment,” you instruct him, wanting to keep him in the light with you, away from the monsters in the dark he is paid to catch.

You’ve come to know each other well through the months of these encounters. You may not know what it is that sends him to your door seeking escape, but you know he is the most voracious reader you will ever meet. The most voracious learner, in fact, always teaching you something new every time you lay in each other’s arms and wait for sleep to come.

Spencer traces patterns on your collarbone as he explains the plot of some of the dense literature you will never read yourself. You’re still warm from the pleasure he has just brought you, and yet his featherlight touch makes you shiver.

His explanation comes to an abrupt end, but the patterns on your skin continue so you know he’s awake.

“You okay?” You ask carefully, wondering if this is the moment he finally talks to you about what he comes to forget.

Spencer readjusts so his head is on the pillow beside yours, facing you as he speaks. “I don’t want to hear my own voice, I want to hear yours. Tell me about what you’re reading.”

“But I’m reading Pride and Prejudice, baby, you’ve read it.”

“Tell me anyway? I like the way you explain things.”

You do as he asks, (as if you have any power to resist obliging him), he interjects every so often with interesting facts about Jane Austen’s own life and influences, information you find all the more fascinating when he tells it.

Spencer drifts off an hour later, midway through his own speech about Austen’s education. His last conscious act is pulling you closer to him before he surrenders to sleep entirely.

In the morning you’ll make him a real breakfast. You’ll chat and laugh over toast and bacon as if the thing between you is friendly. Then he’ll walk to the metro and go back to catching monsters who lurk in the dark.

Spencer won’t come knocking on your door again until he needs a little slice of light.

➽──────────────❥

author's note: I have more ideas for these sweet babies but I would love to hear your ideas as well! Let's chat xx

#dr spencer reid #Spencer Reid x reader #Spencer Reid imagine #Spencer Reid fanfiction #Spencer Reid fic #bau fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction

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mintyys-blog · 1 day ago

Note

Hello! Hope you are having a good day/night!

This is my first time requesting, and gosh this is both exciting and stressfull :,]

So, the request is: can you write a reader who is stress-baking (could be school stress, work stress or worrying about mark when he goes on a mission etc.). And, like, Mark comes home and there's a lot, A LOT of cookies, cakes, cupcakes; on kitchen counters, on tables, some still baking in the oven, and the kitchen is all messy. Then he comforts them of their stress, worries and just, overall cute and fluffy. (Main mark and they are dating)

If you dont feel like writing, its totally fine too!

Love your writings, thank you for sharing them with us ♡

( Take care, and dont forget to drink water! :> )

THE SWEETEST | main mark x reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST 2 | WARNINGS: stress, mention of fighting.

Do not repost, translate, or rewrite my work (AI generated or otherwise) without my permission. @mintyys-blog

You’ve been baking for hours.

The kitchen is a disaster, a testament to your restless mind. There are trays of cookies cooling on the counter, some of them slightly burnt from being forgotten in the oven. Brownies are stacked precariously in the corner, the scent of chocolate heavy in the air. Cupcakes are stuffed into every available space, and yet, somehow, the oven is still on, a fresh batch of something new quietly baking away.

It doesn’t make sense. The oven’s heat is supposed to be oppressive, but you’re not feeling it—not even the smallest bead of sweat on your forehead. Instead, you feel cold. Numb. Like there’s something lodged in your chest that won’t go away, no matter how much sugar you bake into these desserts.

The fight with your mother had been stupid. Trivial. She said you weren’t trying hard enough to fix your career, that you should do more with your life, get a real job instead of this part-time freelance nonsense. And you snapped, yelled at her like you always did, and now she’s furious, calling you selfish and immature.

It was the same argument. Over and over. And no matter how many cookies you make, no matter how many times you shove that batter into the oven and mix the frosting just right, it doesn’t feel like enough.

The sound of the door opening makes you freeze. The familiar voice, Mark’s, carries through the hallway.

“Babe? It smells amazing in here.”

You don’t answer. Instead, you focus on the batter in front of you, scraping the bowl like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Mark steps into the kitchen, breathing in deeply, a small smile on his face at the sight of your chaos.

“Smells like a bakery exploded,” he says, looking at all the trays, the cookies, the frosting smeared across the counters. He takes another deep breath, but when he sees you—really sees you—his smile falters.

You’re standing there in a messy apron, hair frazzled, eyes a little red, though you try to hide it behind the layers of frosting you’re still trying to work on. The kitchen looks like a tornado hit, but it’s not the mess that makes his stomach twist—it’s you.

The way your shoulders are hunched. The way you don’t look at him. The way the air around you feels heavy, almost as if you’re afraid to breathe.

Mark sets his bags down with a soft thud. “Hey,” he calls, stepping closer to you. “What’s going on?”

You shrug, finally lifting your eyes to meet his, but there’s a distant look in them. “Nothing. Just… baking.”

He knows better. Mark reaches out, gently pulling you away from the counter. “This,” he says softly, gesturing to the mountain of treats you’ve made, “this isn’t nothing.”

You bite your lip, a faint tremor in your voice. “I just… I’m fine. Really. I had a fight with my mom again. It’s nothing new. It’s not like I can fix it, Mark.”

His heart sinks. He knows you and your mother’s relationship has been strained for years, but hearing you say it like that—it stings. He steps closer, his hands coming to rest gently on your shoulders. “It’s not nothing. And you can fix it—if that’s what you want. But you don’t have to do it alone.”

You let out a small, shaky breath. “I don’t know how to fix it. She doesn’t understand… and it’s like no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough.”

Mark’s hands slide to your arms, pulling you into his chest. You resist for a moment, but when he holds you tight, you finally give in, letting him wrap you in his warmth. He rests his chin on top of your head, breathing you in, taking a long, deep breath as if trying to anchor himself to you.

“I don’t have all the answers,” he murmurs, “but I know you’re enough. For me. For anyone who truly matters. You’re not broken, babe. You’re… perfect, even when you’re baking like a madwoman.”

You let out a soft, laugh-sniffle, leaning into him even more. “I don’t even know why I do this. I just… can’t stop. I thought it would help.”

“It helps you, even if you don’t see it,” Mark says, rubbing your back soothingly. “But it’s okay if it’s not enough. You don’t always have to carry everything alone. Let me help.”

You look up at him, your eyes still a little watery, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself relax. The pressure that’s been building in your chest seems to loosen, even if just a little. Mark’s here, and for right now, you don’t have to be anything other than yourself.

“I missed you today,” you admit quietly.

Mark smiles softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I missed you too. Let’s take a break, yeah? We’ll eat all these cookies and brownies and… whatever else you made, and we’ll talk about everything. Just… no more baking for tonight. Deal?”

You nod, finally allowing yourself to lean fully into him. “Deal.”

Mark keeps his arms around you a moment longer, just holding you in that warm, steady way that always makes you feel like you’re not falling apart.

Then he pulls back slightly, reaching for one of the cookies on the counter—a slightly messy chocolate chip one, the kind you hadn’t even bothered shaping properly because your hands had been shaking too much at the time. He takes a huge bite, chewing thoughtfully.

“These taste good though,” he says around a mouthful, smiling like he means it.

You stare at the piles of desserts surrounding you. Cookies, cupcakes, brownies, bars. Rows and rows of sugar and chocolate and frosting.

Your chest tightens again, but this time it’s not just sadness—it’s guilt. You let your hands drop to your sides, feeling small.

“It’s such a waste,” you murmur, voice low. “I doubt we can finish all this.”

Mark swallows his bite and immediately nods, glancing around the kitchen. “Yeah, no way.” He nudges your side gently, coaxing your gaze back to his. “But… maybe we can donate it? There’s that orphanage in the city—the one you’re always talking about. The kids would love this.”

You blink up at him, and slowly, a small, real smile spreads across your lips.

“That sounds lovely,” you whisper, your voice a little thick with emotion.

Before he can say anything else, you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. He lets out a soft huff of laughter, wrapping you up against him easily, his larger frame enveloping you in warmth and safety.

“Thanks, Mark,” you murmur against his shoulder, feeling some of the weight in your chest finally lift.

He kisses the top of your head, lingering there for a moment, like he’s trying to kiss away the last pieces of doubt clinging to you. His hands rub slow, soothing circles against your back.

“Always, babe,” he whispers. “Always.”

You stay like that for a while—held close in the kitchen, surrounded by the sweet smell of all the things you baked through your pain. But now it feels different. Now it feels like maybe, somehow, something good can still come out of all of this.

And Mark’s right there with you, making sure you don’t have to face any of it alone.

After a long moment, Mark pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting lightly on your waist.

“Alright,” he says with a small, determined smile. “Operation: Save the Kitchen—and Feed Some Kids—is a go.”

You let out a soft, genuine laugh, the sound easing the tightness that had wrapped around your ribs all evening. Mark leans down and gives you one more kiss on your forehead before stepping back, surveying the kitchen with mock seriousness.

“We’re gonna need boxes,” he says thoughtfully, already rummaging through the pantry.

You grab some plastic containers and a few old bakery boxes you’d saved—just in case—and together, the two of you start packing everything up. It’s messy and chaotic, but somehow, it feels lighter now. The tension from earlier fades little by little, replaced by an easy rhythm as you both work side by side.

At one point, Mark sneakily steals a brownie from a cooling rack. You catch him mid-bite, narrowing your eyes.

“Mark Grayson,” you scold, hands on your hips. “We’re supposed to be donating those.”

He shrugs shamelessly, grinning with a crumb stuck to the corner of his mouth. “Quality control,” he says. “Gotta make sure it’s safe for the kids.”

You roll your eyes but can’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. He looks so pleased with himself, and it’s contagious. You shake your head and toss a dish towel at him, which he dodges dramatically, nearly knocking over a tray of cupcakes in the process.

“Careful!” you squeak, grabbing them just in time.

Mark laughs, reaching out to steady the tray with you. His hands brush over yours, lingering just a second too long, and when you look up at him, there’s something tender in his eyes. A reminder—silent but fierce—that he’s here. That he’s yours.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles almost absentmindedly. “Can’t have your hard work go to waste.”

You clear your throat, cheeks warming a little under his gaze, and pull your hand back, focusing on stacking another layer of cookies into the box.

Once you’ve packed most of the treats, you both sink onto the floor, backs resting against the cabinets, a tray of leftover cookies between you. The kitchen is still messy—flour dusts the countertops, and frosting smears cling to the stove—but for once, you don’t mind.

Mark leans his head back and sighs contentedly. “You know,” he says lazily, picking up a cookie and handing it to you, “this turned out to be a pretty good night.”

You take the cookie, nibbling the edge thoughtfully. “Yeah,” you murmur. “It did.”

He bumps his shoulder lightly against yours. “Next time you need to bake out your feelings… maybe warn me first? So I can show up with more Tupperware?”

You laugh quietly, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“Deal.”

He smiles, turning his head to kiss the top of yours again, his lips lingering for just a second longer than necessary. And for the first time today, you don’t feel overwhelmed or trapped—you just feel safe. Loved.

You close your eyes, letting yourself savor it.

Tomorrow there would still be things to deal with. Parents, work, life. But right now, here, with Mark beside you and the kitchen smelling like sugar and warmth, it feels like maybe you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

The next morning, after a sleepy breakfast of stolen cupcakes and coffee, you and Mark pile the packed boxes into his car. It’s a little chaotic—some frosting gets smudged onto the seats, and Mark keeps having to steady the towers of cookies every time he takes a turn—but you’re both laughing the whole way there.

The city orphanage is a modest brick building with a bright blue door, a cheerful mural of handprints painted across the front. It’s early, but a few kids are already outside, playing hopscotch and kicking around an old soccer ball.

Mark parks the car and hops out first, grabbing two boxes. You follow, a smile tugging at your lips as you watch him struggle slightly under the weight. He insists he’s fine—“super strength, remember?”—but you can see him wobble a little.

When you step onto the sidewalk, one of the younger kids notices the two of you and immediately races over, wide-eyed.

“Whoa! What’s all that?!”

Mark kneels down slightly to show the top box, giving the kid a big, easy grin. “Special delivery. Homemade cookies, cupcakes, and brownies.”

The kid’s eyes get even wider, practically shining. “For us?”

“All for you,” you say warmly, balancing another box in your arms.

Within minutes, the other kids swarm you both, gasping and giggling at the sight of all the sweets. A few of the staff members come out too, offering grateful smiles and hurried help carrying the rest of the boxes inside.

“You guys didn’t have to do all this,” one of the staff says, her voice touched with emotion as she peeks into a box filled with perfectly imperfect chocolate chip cookies.

You shrug a little, feeling shy under her praise. “Had a bit of a… baking emergency,” you say with a small laugh, glancing at Mark, who grins back at you.

“Well, it’s our lucky day then,” the woman says, beaming.

You help them set everything up inside, arranging the desserts on a long table while the kids eagerly crowd around, waiting for permission to dig in. The room smells heavenly—like vanilla and chocolate and sugar—and the atmosphere buzzes with excited chatter.

Mark leans in close while you’re arranging cupcakes, whispering near your ear, “Told you they’d love it.”

You glance at the kids’ excited faces, your heart swelling at the pure, honest joy radiating from them.

“Yeah,” you whisper back, smiling so hard your cheeks ache. “You were right.”

Before you can say anything else, a little girl with two messy braids tugs at your sleeve. She’s holding a slightly lopsided brownie, her face absolutely serious.

“These are the best brownies ever,” she declares solemnly. “You should open a bakery.”

You laugh softly, crouching down to her level. “Maybe one day.”

She beams at you, then scampers off to join the others, brownie clutched tightly in her tiny hands.

Mark watches you, his eyes soft and full of something so tender it makes your heart stutter. He reaches out and squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing along the back of it in small, reassuring strokes.

“I’m proud of you,” he says quietly, just for you to hear.

You squeeze back, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes—but this time, they’re good tears. Full tears.

“Thanks for being here,” you murmur.

“Always,” he promises again, squeezing your hand tighter, like he’s anchoring you to the moment.

Together, you stand side by side, watching the kids laugh and eat and make a mess of frosting and crumbs—and for the first time in days, the tightness in your chest finally, finally lifts.

You weren’t alone. You weren’t failing. You were loved. And maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

#x reader #reader insert #x female reader #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson x you #mark grayson #invincible x you #invincible x reader #fluff #comfort #invincible

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