#sunshine/storm cloud pairing

[donutcats]

the plot of twc3 may have been mid but I am still thinking of the M route shower scene DAYS later…

esp since I’m playing the M route with a detective who doesn’t want to do anything physical with Morgan unless it means something, so the fact that the very first time Morgan ever sees Siobhan naked, after endless flirting and teasing, is when she’s injured and needing help with the shower? and Morgan doesn’t say a fucking word and instead just climbs into the shower with all of her clothes on to help? falling to my knees and clutching my heart. I might just write an extended scene where Siobhan asks if Morgan will help wash her hair because there’s just so much potential to get even More out of that shower scene.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine Masterlist

Summary: The first ray of sunlight holds many promises.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Type: Series of Oneshots

Tropes: Singlemom!Reader, opposites attract, romance, fluff, idiots to lovers, pining

1 - Sunshine

2- Summer Breeze

3- Downpour

4- Ray of Light

5- Dusk

6 - Middle of the Night

7 - Heat Wave

8 - Scorching

9 - Tranquility

10 - Storm

11 - Blast

12 - Wildfire

13 - Clouds

14 - Shelter

Headcanons

A wonderful playlist by @hunterofshadows04!

[parfaitblogs]

as time goes by ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you funnel through photographic memories of what once was, now isn't, but might still be.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: angst & smut (18+ mdni) tags: what isn't there? meet cute. burnt toast theory if you squint. right person wrong time. soft dom!spencer. first time. p in v. fingering. praise. fade to black oral (f receiving). mommy issues. anxious attachment reader. past alcohol consumption. argument. + angst, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort. word count: 9.8k a/n: i know i said this was 8k but then i just kept writing and writing and writing and writing and writing... enjoy my angels!! this truly took a piece of my soul to write. a short playlist of what i listened to while writing this <3

"I'm always soft for you, that's the problem. You could come knocking on my door five years from now and I would open my arms wider and say 'come here, it's been too long, it felt like home with you." (Azra T)

February

It was a dreary burst of continuous rain and the threat of a thunderstorm that landed you in this predicament. 

Grey storm clouds that darkened the entire city even at the early hour of seven in the morning. There was a soft glow in one of the clusters of clouds where the sun was attempting to peek through, a striking metaphor for the way your life currently felt. Rays of sunshine barely piercing the sky enough to make an impression on the otherwise miserable day. 

You were late for work. Your usually easy morning routine replaced by bus delays due to the traffic on the roads, and trains canceled due to faults in the signalling.

You were barely halfway up the stairs to your platform when it happened. 

If you were any less focussed on keeping the ends of your jeans off the damp concrete, you wouldn't have spotted the drop of the blue and green SmarTrip card dropping to the step in front of you, from a leather messenger bag that was frantically swinging on someone's shoulder. 

You pick it up without even thinking, concerned by the fact that its owner hadn't even noticed. Which meant you'd have to experience the God awful awkward interaction of handing it back to them, and the even more awful small talk conversation that followed. 

The platform stretched out in front of you, and you were rushing to tap his shoulder before he could get too far away from you. A mop of messy curls turned, and never mind the fact that he was a stranger; he was hot. 

He's confused, and you watch him begin to think the tapping was a mistake, and you were just too rude to apologise for it. 

"Hi," you burst out, holding the card out in front of you. "Sorry. Is this yours?" 

"Oh," his expression is replaced with relief. "Yes. It is. Thank you."

You force an awkward smile onto your face, and he matches it with his own. Your heart flutters at the sight of it, and you thank God he was one of those awkward attractive guys — not an asshole. 

Then again, this was a two second interaction, and you didn't know him. Delusion would be your downfall. 

The train was overly crowded that morning. The traffic of two trains packed into one, resulting in barely any seats, and even less standing room. 

Thankfully, you had gotten one at the back of one of the carriages, which meant you could watch as multiple people walk past you, thinking there'd be more further down. Only to be sorely disappointed, but too stuck to come back and get the seat beside you they had spotted. 

"Oh. Hello again."

You lift your head at the voice, metro card man standing awkwardly next to the seat next to you. 

"Hey," you reply, heart rate skyrocketing. Just your luck.

"Is it okay if I sit here? All the other seats are taken," he asks, and even if there were six other free seats away from you, you'd let him. 

He sits when you nod, and you adjust your bag on the floor in front of you as he does the same, the messenger bag hugged firmly atop his lap. 

"Thank you for catching my card," he says, and you aren't sure if he's trying to make small talk because he's interested, or because he feels too bad to not. 

Your heart decides to go with the former. 

"It's no problem," you shake your head. "If I ever lost my metro card I'd probably have a panic attack in the middle of the station. So... y'know..." Why did you say that?

His chest shakes with quiet laughter anyways, and he's nodding in agreement, but you're sure he doesn't really understand what you mean. He doesn't seem like the type of person to have a panic attack in the middle of a train station.

"Are you headed to DC?" he then asks, and delusion be damned if this isn't him interested in you. 

You nod your head. "That's where this train is going, yes."

He pauses in a reply. "Well, yes, but there's stops along the way. You could be getting off at any of those." You fall silent at his words. That was true. "But you're not. You're going to DC."

"I am," you confirm your destination of the day for the second time, and your brain wonders if telling this inherent stranger where you were planning on going was a wise choice. Probably not. He didn't seem like a serial killer, at least. Then again, your judgement wasn't always the best.

"I am too," he says, lips pulling into the same awkward smile he had earlier, when you'd given him his metro card back. 

"We have so much in common," you joke, but you aren't sure if it lands. For he's blinking awkwardly, and then he must recognise you're trying to joke, because his chest puffs in a laugh. Pity laughter was still laughter. 

"We do."

It takes an entire train ride of conversation for you to muster up any courage at all, and it's only when he's about to step out into the aisle to disappear into his own world, and you into yours, that you blurt out,

"Do you want to get coffee?"

He blinks a few times, but then he's nodding his head, lips twitching into a small smile. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."

At his approval, you ask, "Could I get your number? Y'know, to... plan... this coffee date..."

Metro man, whose name you've since learned is Spencer, nods again, and he's rummaging in his bag for a piece of paper and a pen. The pen he finds, the paper he does not, and you simply tell him to write his number down on your hand. 

Delusions were fuelled quite easily when you're a hopeless romantic, and the immediate flutter of your heart when his hand holds yours in place so he could write on your skin was enough to convince you this man was your soulmate. 

You part ways from each other, feeling a little giddier, and a lot less like the storm clouds still swirling over your head. 

March

Even the quietest of sounds were catastrophically loud when you were in that middle ground between being awake, and being asleep. And the muffled sound of a tap turning on was as loud as a raging thunderstorm, in the early hours of that Saturday morning, startling you awake from the comfortable sleep you had been in. 

It took you a few more minutes to fully come to consciousness, but by that point, you had registered what tap was on and why, and your fears of an unfamiliar scent surrounding you as you awaken were diminished. 

"Oh. Morning."

Your eyes flutter open to see a slightly shocked Spencer Reid standing at the foot of his bed, collecting the bundled socks he had set on the mattress. 

"What're you doing?" you ask him, tiredly, rolling onto your back and blocking the bright sunlight with your arm. 

"Going to work," he answers. "I have paperwork I need to catch up on," he then adds, at your puzzled expression.

"Oh," you pout immediately, your heart sinking at the knowledge that he was leaving you. 

"I'll be home by three," he promises, moving around and crouching down by the edge of the bed, next to your head.

"You want me to stay here?" you ask him, rolling over to look at him.

His eyes bore into your own, and you search his face, his cologne mixing with the scent of his sheets beneath your head, making your head go a little fuzzy. 

He brushes hair out of your face. "You can if you want. There's food in the fridge, and I bought copies of your toiletries for when you do... stay over..." he stammers to a stop, brain catching up to his mouth. "Sorry. Is that weird?"

"No," your lips pull into a smile. "No. It's really sweet, actually."

"And there's clean clothes in my dryer," he continues at your reassurance. "Since you said you like my shirts. I mean, you don't have to, obviously. But I'll only be gone six hours, and then I have the rest of the day and tomorrow off, and I know you do too, so I just figured—"

You cut him off with a kiss. Perhaps not the best time to kiss him, for you're pretty sure you have a bad case of morning breath. If you do, he doesn't protest. In fact, he melts even further into your lips. 

"I'll stay," you tell him.

"Okay," his eyes light up a little, and your cheeks hurt from how wide you're smiling. You're sure you look ridiculous. "Okay. I'll see you later."

"Bye," you say, catching him for one more kiss, until he's closer to being late for work than anything, and he's tearing himself away from you. Forcefully, because he doesn't really want to. 

He comes home six and a half hours later to his home smelling distinctly of a candle he forgot he even owned, and whatever it was in his fridge you had managed to create a dish out of. 

He wonders if it's too soon to feel love for you. 

April

A night out was, arguably, the last thing you had expected to do when you woke up that morning. In fact, you had spent the entire day with plans to stay in your sanctuary of a bedroom with a shitty television series playing to detach from the past few weeks. Your life was busy, and you felt as though you had no time to yourself. Technically, you did. But your days off never consisted of an entire day in your bed without any responsibilities. 

It seemed that even on your planned day off, you couldn't get that. Granted you weren't mad, come six o'clock, because despite talking about how excited you were for your day off to him, the second Spencer Reid had mentioned restaurant and dinner in your morning phone call as he commuted to work, you were begging him to fulfil the plans he was about to cancel. 

He had stayed afterwards. Of course he had. You'd be damned if the man who had just taken you to the nicest restaurant you've ever been to in your life didn't stay over afterwards. And he was quite happy to, it seemed, which made your heart flutter a little more than it probably should've.

"Have you read Emily Dickinson?" you ask him, looking up at his face. You were now in your bed, covers draped over your entwined legs, his back up against the headboard of your bed, your own on his chest. 

"Yes," he nods his head, lips twitching at the way your face fell upon his response. "Did you think I hadn't?"

"No, I guess I assumed you had," you shook your head. "A small part of me didn't know for sure, though."

"Now you know," he says, eyes falling to the televison that had a silent cartoon playing on it (your choice, not his). "Did you have a good night?"

"Yeah," your lips curl into a smile. "Did you?"

"I always do with you," he leans down and pecks the smile off your face, watching your lips frown when he pulls back. "What?"

He laughs at the pout on your lips, and your eyes narrow in response. In a quick motion, your legs and arms wrap around him, bodies now facing each other, as you return your lips to his. 

"Was my kiss not up to your standards?" he muses against your mouth, and you poke his shoulder with a finger as a response, incessantly begging him to kiss you back.

You had done this before. Multiple times, in fact. Making out with Spencer was slowly but surely becoming your favourite past time. You weren't entirely sure what it was about it. Perhaps the way he kissed like he'd never be able to kiss again, always with so much fervour, and always so desperate. Maybe it was the way his hands felt when they grappled the entirety of your ass whenever you were on his lap, something that seemed so not Spencer Reid. Whatever it was, it was maddening, and you found a quiet, controlled mewl leave your lips when his hands squeezed your ass, pulling you closer to him (if that was possible).

"Mm-mm," he murmurs against your lips at the sound, fingertips digging into the flesh of your ass, eliciting another, less controlled sound from you. "You can do better than that."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you mumble against his lips, semi-breathless, hands delving up into his curls, encasing your fingers in them.

He laughs again, the sound addicting, and melting any anxieties away as his fingers travel up your body, beneath your pyjama shirt, stopping short where your bra strap would be if you were wearing one. 

"We don't have to," you rush out when you feel his hesitance. Though you were no stranger to this part of making out – the suggestive touching – you could feel the bulge in his pants, and you realised this was not like every other time.

"You don't want to?" he asks with a gentle voice, pulling back to look at you.

"No, I–of course I do," you reassure him.

His lips tug into a small smile, and his face leans in to kiss the corner of your lips. "Okay. Good. I want to, as well."

"Good," you answer with a firm nod, and he hums. 

His hands slip beneath your shirt again. Warm – burning, even – though you weren't particularly cold. Yet, you felt like your skin was ice that was melting beneath his fingers as they dragged along your skin. All while his lips kissed down your jawline and neck, until they found your pulse point. He had found it accidentally a few weeks prior, and had used and abused it as much as he could after that. For no reason other than the fact that you let out the sweetest sounds whenever his teeth grazed over it, or his lips sucked on the skin there.

His hands reached further up, and his palms brush over both nipples at once, eliciting a gasp from you as your back arches into him. 

"Sensitive," he notes when his thumbs drag down over them, pulling the same reaction from your lips. You shoot him a sharp glare, and he laughs. His response is then to lean back in and kiss the pout away, gently biting down on your jutted lower lip with his teeth. All while he rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, earning a whimper from you into his mouth.

It was a few more moments of that, before you murmur quietly, "Tell me you're taking this further." 

He laughs in response. Then, says, "What do you want?"

"Up to you," you reply, and he shakes his head, bringing one of your hands to his lips and kissing it. 

"No. Up to us."

"Okay. Um..." you hesitate. "Surely there's a natural order of things."

"I don't know. I think it depends on the people," he replies. "Tell me what you want to do."

You hesitate. There's a thousand things you want from him, and you're sure the mere twenty-four hours in the day are not enough for them all. Though, you also know time is not running out for the two of you soon. 

Recognising your hesitance, he instead taps your hips to get you off his lap, and you comply, and he lays you down on the bed. He hovers above you, and you almost laugh at his hair that falls down and creates a curtain over your two faces. 

His fingers lift the hem of your shirt over your body, and you let him, your breath hitching at the still less-than-hot air that settles in your room amidst April. He follows suite and removes his own shirt upon seeing your close to demanding look, before he ducks his head down to kiss you again. 

Fingers dance across the skin of your waist as he hesitates in pulling your pants down, but you don't even want to complain as he kisses you. In no rush to hurry him along, you savour his lips on yours, allowing him to take the time to work you up with brushes along your thigh through the fabric of your pants. 

You were equally as present as you were lost in a daydream as he touches you, for you don't really remember when your legs had become bare and his touch had become more direct, but you remember exactly what it felt like for his breath to hitch against your ear as he ran a finger down the damp fabric of your underwear. 

He seems to have picked up on your dreamlike state, for he brushes his lips against your temple and asks, "You with me?"

"Yes," you reply, breathlessly. 

He doesn't really believe you, but you're eagerly inching your hips closer towards his retreating hand for him to need to. 

Gently, he's pulling your underwear down your legs, and you're watching the pupils in his dark eyes expand. You relish in the knowledge of you emitting such a reaction from him. 

A sharp whine comes from you when his finger brushes through your folds, stopping just short of your clit. He does it again. 

"Spencer."

"Yeah, pretty girl?" he murmurs, though his focus is solely directed to his hand on you.

"Need you."

"I can see that," he muses, and he jolts at the way your heel kicks his side. You're pretty sure it doesn't hurt, at least. "Okay, okay. Sorry."

"You should be."

His other hand pinches your thigh.

You don't have time to argue against him, for he is sinking a finger into you, and every word dies on your tongue, replaced only by a quiet moan and the breathless sound of his name. 

He lifts himself back up your body as he presses his finger further into you, capturing your second moan with his lips against yours. Again. He would probably swallow you whole if you asked him to. You think you might. 

He adds a second finger almost too soon. His fingers were longer than yours ever could be, and he curls them in a way that has your head tilting back and pressing into the pillow beneath it, and your hips rising off the mattress. He chases your lips with his as you squirm away, and his free hand pushes your body back into the mattress as he draws his fingers out, then presses them back into you. 

"Didn't know you were this sensitive," he murmurs against your mouth, and your teeth nip at his lower lip in protest. You feel him smile, and he returns the gesture, scoldingly. 

His fingers brush against your g-spot and you're pretty sure you see stars. Or perhaps that's just the ends of Spencer's hair tickling your cheeks as he continues to kiss you. 

He continues to finger you until it becomes its own language, complete with strings of high pitched moans from you, and his inability to keep you still on the bed. He pulls his fingers out all too soon, and you're verbally complaining about it as he takes his own pants off. 

"Do you ever stop talking?" he asks you, but there's no heat behind his voice for you to seek insecurity from. 

"I talk when I'm nervous," you reply. 

"Are you always nervous?"

"Around you? Yes."

He doesn't reply, but he laughs, bashfully, and you know he finds it endearing. Instead, he says, "I need to go get a condom."

At which your eyebrows shoot up. "Did you bring some?"

He pauses, sheepishly replying, "Yes?"

You decide against teasing him for it, and merely nod your head. "Okay."

He doesn't waste time, but you're left laying there on the bed to watch him, stuck within the thoughts of how did you luck out so well? 

He's quick to return your mind back to Earth, and in a quick turn of events, he's positioned back over you, condom wrapper discarded somewhere in your room — you'd need to find that later before it gets found by somebody mortifying — and his hips achingly close to your own. 

Lowering your gaze instinctively, your lips part, and you mutter a, "What the fuck?"

"Tone, please," he asks you, kissing the corner of your mouth.

"Bad. But good," you confuse him further, before you settle on, "Shock."

"Are you still okay with this?"

"Yes," you quickly confirm. "Just... scared. I guess. I haven't had sex in a while and you're..." Not small.

"I'll go slow," he promises, and your heart flutters at the sincerity in his voice. 

Slowly, he eases himself into you, swallowing your moans all over again with a kiss, hands rubbing gentle circles onto your hips as a welcome distraction. It was borderline filthy as he moans into your ear in harmony with your own.

You hear him murmuring from above you, your ears catching the whispering of numbers and statistical facts you've definitely heard him spewing to himself before. But never in bed. Usually, it would be as he situates at his desk to work. 

"What're you doing?" you murmur, and he pauses upon realising he was thinking aloud. 

"Trying not to come so soon," he answers, kissing your jawline, a shuddering breath leaving him to rest his head in that position. 

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh," he mocks. "You just feel so good around me. Can't believe I went so long without you, angel girl. Fuck."

You wish you could tell the you many moons ago that this is how the man you met at the train station would talk to you. 

He's slow as he withdraws his hips from you, before he's pushing himself back into you with yet another moan, from both him and you.

You're not sure when your causal moans break into whines and desperation overtakes you. Somewhere between him taking his time in getting to know what you liked, and discovering how easy it was to make you squirm if he just put a finger on your clit at the same time as thrusting into you. 

He is so good it's almost sickening, and you begin to entertain the idea of this man being your soulmate once again. Or perhaps he's just really good at seeing right through you, which might be a little embarrassing in retrospect. 

"Spencer," you moan, hands looping around his neck, delving into his hair and nails scratching gently at his scalp. 

"Mm?" he asks you, pressing another kiss to your head, drawing circles on your clit in tandem with his thrusts. 

"Please."

"Please what, honey?"

"Wanna—" you're cut off with a wanton whine, "—come. Please."

"You do? Really?" 

"Spencer," you repeat his name, this time frustratedly.

"That's no way to ask for what you want," he wanes his movements ever so slightly, a silent warning. 

"Please make me come."

"There you go, good girl," he mumbles, and he smiles at the way your hips jerk slightly at the praise. 

He complies with your request immediately, though you're sure it has something to do with how quickly his own hips stutter into a stop with an orgasm of his own. 

Never one to complain, though, and you let him work you through the star-seeing experience with broken moans and chants of his name that has his own heart fluttering. 

He rolls off of you soon after, disappearing from the bed only to dispose of the condom, before he's climbing back into the bed. Regardless of every bone in his body telling him to get you up to shower. 

"Why didn't we do that earlier?" you murmur.

"I don't know," he replies, lips moving against the skin of your forehead. 

"Can we do it again?"

His breath is warm as he huffs out a laugh, rolling back over top of you, thankful for his lack of asking to shower. "Yes."

June

There's a comfortable quiet that blankets the air around you and Spencer. The pages of his book turning as he flips them every few seconds, and the quiet murmur of characters Ilsa and Sam talking on the television, Casablanca playing at an awfully quiet volume. 

He was sitting on the floor in front of you, who was sitting on the couch, fingers entangled in his hair. Freshly washed, because you were adamant on fixing him a proper hair routine now that his hair was long enough to require something remotely akin to your own.

His head lifts as the piano began to play, and the familiar voice of Dooley Wilson filled the space, his reading of his book now on pause.

"Spencer!" you began to protest when he peeled away from the edge of the couch, the criss-cross pattern in his hair falling loose almost immediately. He turns to look at you, noting the page he was on for his book, before he closes it and places it on the coffee table in front of him. 

"What are you doing to my hair?" he asks you, hands going up to feel the strands, eyebrows frowning towards each other at the loose plaits he was touching. 

"I was braiding it," you grumble, watching as he brushes each strand out unconsciously. "You've ruined it."

"Oh, I'm sorry," he muses upon realising what he had done, lips twitching as his hands drop back by his side. "Do you want to redo it?"

"No," you huff, scooting further back into the couch, folding your arms across your chest. 

"Honey," Spencer says amidst a laugh, turning his body around fully. 

Instead of acknowledging him, you kept your eyes fully transfixed on the black and white television screen in front of you. You could see, out of the corner of your eye, the sight of him shifting on the floor. 

Perhaps it was cruel to be giving him the silent treatment so quickly. Though, you have a small smile painted on your face that told Spencer he wasn't in any real trouble with you for pulling your otherwise perfectly curated braids out of his hair. Unknowingly, mind you.

With your lack of response, he found his hands wandering over to your legs, fingertips trailing delicately up the sides of them. Despite the pyjama pants you had on providing a layer between his skin and your own, you still squirmed. And, much to his own satisfaction, your gaze flickered down to his face. His stupid, grinning face, that told you he knew he had succeeded oh so easily. 

"I'm mad at you," you bite, and his eyebrows rose. 

"You're mad at me," he parrots. When you glare at him, he's forced to bite his cheek to stop himself from laughing out loud. "Okay. Can I make it up to you?"

"No."

"Are you sure?" 

No, you weren't. For his head was resting gently against the side of your thigh now, the slightest hint of a pout on his lips, eyes wide. To absolutely nobody's surprise, your resolve was dissolving, and you found yourself hesitating with a response to him. 

He wasn't oblivious to your hesitance, and the amusement on his face was almost frustrating. Almost, if not for the teasing drag of his fingertips along the sides of your thighs distracting you from the irritation you had towards him.

But, you held your own. "Yes, I'm sure."

His eyebrows rising told you he didn't believe you, and it took everything in you not to respond with the twitch of a sheepish grin. And under his unbelieving gaze, you let out a huffed sigh, and shook your head. 

"Yeah, I didn't think so," he answers, fingertips gently pressing into your lower back as he tugged you towards the edge of the couch. "So I can make it up to you?"

"Maybe," you murmur, biting the inside of your cheek. "What're my options, Dr. Reid?"

"I could take your clothes off," he says, punctuating his point with his fingers sliding around to your waist, hooking under your pants' waistband. "Or you can choose something else."

"I like option one," you answer, meekly. 

"I figured you would."

He was frustratingly slow as he pulls your pyjama pants down, the fabric catching on the leather of his couch you were sitting on, until you had enough conscious mind to lift your hips up for him.

He trails his fingers back up the skin, eyes almost fascinated in watching you squirm as your inner thighs — and only your inner thighs — received the upmost of attention from his hands. At a whining protest from you, Spencer's hands wandered to do the one thing he knew you were after, and you let out a breathy moan when his index finger traced up the centre of your already damp underwear.

"Oh, you do like option one," he says with a hum, and if you were any less turned on, you'd probably be glaring at him for it. Instead, you were nodding your head in compliant agreement. 

He, thankfully, wastes no time in latching his mouth onto you. He spends a good portion of your evening taking you to the stars and back, multiple times, before he's satisfied, and he's sure you are too. 

You're showered (again), and curled up on the couch, your head now in Spencer's lap as his fingers brush through your hair, the beginning of Casablanca beginning to play all over again. You had protested neither of you appreciated it enough the first time, and you want to give the film its proper treatment. 

"Why do you like this film so much?" he murmurs, staring at the black and white screen. 

"Reminds me of better times, I guess," you reply. 

"Your better times take place in Morocco in the forties?" 

"No," your lips twitch into a small smile, your head shaking, hair brushing across his thighs. "When I first watched this film I was fifteen, with my mom. It was one of the few times we really got along, so... I guess that."

He decides against commenting on it, for your voice had dropped to something a little sadder. "Rick's not a good person," he chides. 

"You don't get to form an opinion on Rick without finishing the movie first."

He laughs at that, but he falls silent soon after, an evident promise that he would wait. 

"Why did you make me watch this?" he asks, as you're greeted with a screen of black, your two reflections staring back at you. 

You turn your head, resting it flat against his thighs as you look up at him, raising an eyebrow in question. 

"It isn't a happy ending," he explains at your quizzical look. 

"Oh, so movies I show you need to have a happy ending?" you argue. "You like Star Wars, Spencer."

"No, obviously they don't. But when you explained the film to me, you said, 'a romance classic from the forties'. Forgive me for presuming it would be a happy ending."

"I think it is kind of happy," you reply, shrugging as you tear your gaze away, resting instead on the coffee table. 

"How so?" he brushes the hair that falls out of your face. 

"They weren't right for each other," you murmur. "Rick knew that. He loved her enough to let her go, I guess."

August

You are a fragment of every person you have loved, and who has loved you. Tiny pieces of their soul weaving within your own to form the person you are today. From acts as simple as the way you cook your eggs, to reactions as serious as your emotional response to an insult. Family members making up your emotional regulators, childhood friendships determining your insecurities. 

Like a solidified piece of putty holding two pipes together, you are a person moulded to be what other people need. 

Stay quiet, don't react, detach. 

Not even a conscious choice you make anymore. Too many years spent punished for being loud, too many tears cried over your supposed overreaction, too many pieces of your heart shattered each time somebody leaves. Your responses are simply automatic now. 

Spencer Reid had not heard from you in fifty six hours. 

Two thirty in the morning was never a good time to try and communicate, for a plethora of reasons. Never mind the fact that it was late. His mind had been exhausted of its use during a particularly gruelling case, and you had been too anxious the four days he'd been gone to sleep properly. 

For that reason, and possibly many others you didn't know, he was in a bad mood. Your being awake at that hour was irritating to him, your half drank coffee was an awful idea in his mind, and your touch was unwanted by him. You didn't know why. 

You hated miscommunication. You hated the unsaid words that hung in the air whenever you'd look at him. 

The first thing he had said upon coming home was not, hello, or even, I missed you. No, it was a sharp, "Why are you awake?" as he set his messenger bag down on the floor next to his door. 

"I was waiting for you," you had said, picking up the mug of coffee. "Then it hit midnight, and you still weren't home, and usually you come home to me asleep, but I wanted to see you so I drank some coffee and..." you'd trailed off upon seeing his uncharacteristically cold expression. 

"You shouldn't stay awake waiting for me," he'd muttered, taking the mug from you and heading into the kitchen to clean it, flicking the light on. "You have work tomorrow. You need to be asleep."

"I missed you," you'd protested, standing up and going towards him. 

"I missed you too, but you should've been asleep."

Your attempt at hugging him and kissing him in greeting was denied, his hands prying you off his body. He could've ripped your heart out instead and you'd think it hurt less than that.

"Go to bed. I'll be there soon."

You felt like a child being scolded at his snark, which was evidently the reason behind you not listening to him at all in the end. 

He'd offered no proper explanation for his irritation towards you. Even as you'd picked up your things and left his apartment, silently, not even a quiet I love you whispered to confirm that you weren't leaving him for good, he didn't explain a thing to you. 

Out of sight, out of mind, was not a principle you could exercise when it came to him. Every notification to your phone that didn't brand his name hurt your heart, a constant reminder that maybe he was still mad at you, and he didn't want to see you.

It was a knock at your door that pried you from the clutches of your duvet that morning, a half-assed attempt at brushing through your hair and straightening of your clothes was the best whoever dared to come see you uninvited would get. 

Opening the door and your brain computing who it was had you wanting to slam it again, as if this were some movie and he would have the will to shove a foot in the door to stop it from closing. 

Maybe he would. 

"So you are alive," he says. 

"Last I checked, yes," you reply. 

Simple words spoken between two far from simple individuals, until he was nodding his head to the open space of your apartment behind you, and you were wordlessly agreeing to let him come in. 

"Are you here to break up with me?"

His closing of the door was interrupted by your question, his entire body going rigid for a beat, before he gently clicked the door and lock in place, turning on his shoulder with frowning eyebrows. 

"No. I'm... not—why, why would you think that?"

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Habit."

That hurts his heart, and he's shaking his head almost incessantly. "I'm not. I promise, honey. I just want to know what's going on. Nobody's heard from you."

"I know," you murmur, feet carrying you over to your couch before your legs can give out on you. 

He watches you, awaiting another spiel of words to explain where you had disappeared to for the past two and a bit days. And yet; nothing. So, he follows you, and sits down on the couch next to you. Hands reach out to pick up your legs, shoulders relaxing a little when you let him place them in his lap, and you go slightly still out of fluster. 

"I'm sorry for making you mad, if I did," you whisper. 

"You didn't. Did you think I was mad?"

"I guess. You were kind of mean," his heart shatters at that. "But maybe I was just taking it the wrong way. I was tired."

"No," his fingertips run up and down your legs, the only conscious act he could focus on to keep himself from bombarding you with every worried thought he's had the last two days. "I shouldn't have let you leave thinking I was mad at you. I wasn't. The case just stressed me out, and I was concerned about you still being awake that late."

"I was waiting for you," you mumble. 

"I know, angel," he nods his head. "It's just I usually come home to you asleep on the couch."

"Or the bathroom."

His chest puffs out with laughter, and your heart swells a little in your chest at the sight. "Or the bathroom," he parrots, nodding. 

It was when he was coming home from a case on the border in Washington state, and you had, like usual, tried to stay awake to wait for him. Unfortunately, the UnSub tiptoeing between the two country lines meant the case was dragged out, and he had come home much later than expected. And you had mistakenly passed out on the bathroom floor, wrapped in a towel, after a shower. 

Amusement was over as his eyes found and locked with your own, and he earnestly asks, "Can you tell me why you disappeared?"

"No."

It wasn't that you didn't want to tell him. Just that you didn't know why either. Perhaps it was something you'd need to unpack with a professional, not your boyfriend at ten in the morning on your couch. 

Ever so understanding, Spencer Reid was. Even with the pause of his delicate touch on your legs in what you're sure is another jolt of frustration towards you.

"That's okay," he says, instead. "Can you promise to try and not disappear next time, then?"

Your shoulders shrug. Can you promise that? 

"You can't," he voices your thoughts for you, and you nod your head in confirmation. "Okay. Well, I really want to work this out with you. I need you to want that too."

"I do," you say quietly. 

"Then you need to work with me," he answers. "Where did your brain go that night?"

"Um," you hesitate. You could think of a thousand places your mind wandered to that night. None of them very good. A child again, being scolded for not turning the light out because you were up reading, maybe. "I don't know. I don't like being scolded like I'm a child. I guess I felt like a child."

"That wasn't my—"

"—I know," you cut him off before he can defend himself to you. "I know it wasn't your intention. But it felt that way. I'm an adult who makes her own decisions, and losing sleep before work because I want to see my boyfriend is one of those. No matter how... how stupid a decision you may think that is."

"I didn't think it was stupid," he shakes his head. "I was just concerned."

"Funny way of showing it," you mumble, lowering your gaze, before his lack of response makes you realise what you had just said to him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. That was mean."

"No," hands lightly swat your legs. "No, I deserved that. I was really mean. It wasn't the right way to show my concern for you."

"Doesn't mean I should be rude back."

"I think it does," he says, his fingers going back to tracing patterns on your skin. "In fact, I encourage it."

In true Spencer fashion, his words tug a small smile onto your lips, and you feel the heaviness of what had happened between you two ease off your chest slightly. "That's a weird thing to encourage."

"Maybe," he agrees. "I don't like that you left without saying anything."

"I didn't feel very wanted," you explain. "By you. I tried to hug you, and you wouldn't let me touch you."

"I was overstimulated," he says. "It wasn't that I didn't want to hug you, honey. I did. Sometimes I don't like people touching me, yes, even you," he adds upon seeing your confused expression and tilted head. "I didn't handle that well. I should've told you that in the moment."

"I wish I had known that before," you murmur. "That's why I left. And you didn't try to stop me, so I just assumed..."

"I wasn't very present," he shakes his head to stop your self-deprecating thoughts in their tracks. "I barely registered you were leaving until I heard the door shut."

"Oh."

"I wanted to stop you when I realised. I decided to give you space."

"I just thought you didn't care."

"If nothing else, know that I'll always care," he tells you, and your heart stutters at the raw honesty in his voice. "Even if you run away and I don't reach out for a week because I think you need space. I'll still care."

"Please don't leave me alone for a week if I run away," you reply, and one of his hands squeezes your knee. 

"Noted. I won't."

You nod your head with the faintest hint of a smile, before your gaze lowers to your legs. You inhale, then say, quietly, "I'm sorry for disappearing."

"I know," he answers. "It's okay."

November

It was a horrifically awful day that led you to this moment. Curling up on the couch with a blanket covering your entire body, staring aimlessly off into the warm glow of the reading lamp Spencer had bought you many moons ago. 

Your heart was heavy, hands cold, body shivering, in the cool November air that flooded your apartment. Your thermostat was just too far. Not that you were comfortable. Not even a little bit. You could evidently feel each spring of your couch pushing into your flesh, puncturing you uncomfortably. You hadn't had a need for a new couch since getting together with Spencer, usually finding your residence at his apartment more often than not. 

Not today, it seemed. 

Keys rattled outside your apartment door, and you heard the shuffling of familiar feet, followed by the gentle calling of your name to alert you of his presence. 

"Honey, it's freezing in here," he says, settling his bag down on the kitchen countertop, you're sure (you aren't looking). You hear the beep, following by the rush of wind coming out of your air conditioning unit as he turns the device on, and you're silently grateful. 

He finds you on the couch, wrapping his arms around you from behind it, greeting you with a kiss to the side of your head, right on your temple, and a few of your worries melt away in an instant. Only a few, for there is still a bricklayer of hurt seated comfortably over your heart. 

He says your name again when you don't say anything to greet him, and it's more shuffling of feet until he's dipping into the couch next to you, despite the fact that he still had his shoes and work clothes on. Irrelevant affairs he could deal with later. 

"Hey, what's this?" he asks you, quietly, leaning forwards and nudging your arched knees, and your gaze finally tears from the lamp to his face, spots of light decorating your vision and covering some of him.

"Sorry," you mumble. "I'm thinking."

"Very hard, apparently," he says, lightly. You appreciate the attempt of lifting the mood. "About what?"

"Um," you pause. "I saw my family today."

"Yeah. You said you were. I assume it didn't go well?"

You wordlessly shake your head, and he sighs, wasting no time in bringing you into his chest. You crack, and his heart shatters at the quiet sob that wracks through your body.

"Talk to me," he murmurs, voice all too quiet for your fragile state, for it only makes you cry a little harder. "Angel."

"She—um," your voice cracks. "Everything I said she turned into a joke to everyone. I just felt stupid the entire time. Like everything I said wasn't worth being said. So I stopped talking, because I couldn't get made fun of if I didn't say anything, right?" You feel his head nod against your own, even though you couldn't see him.

"No. She brought up things I'd said to her previously, and mocked them. I mean, I was in the other room so she didn't know I could hear her, but—but—" you choke on your words, cutting your ranting short, your hands petulantly clutching at the fabric of his shirt to ground yourself. "I'm sick of waiting for her to love me. Isn't she supposed to? She's my fucking mother and yet I'm still begging her to even like me. Why?"

"I don't know, angel." His voice is achingly soft, and his hands thread into your hair, brushing through it a few times; a welcome comfort. "This happens every time you see her."

"Yeah."

You're feeling impossibly small in his arms as you nod, sniffling away hideous snot bubbles you're sure he cared about. If he did, he didn't say anything.

"Maybe it's time to stop seeing her."

"Yeah." 

You're reluctant in agreeing with him, though you know deep down he's right. But it's an Earth shattering revelation that you aren't quite sure you wanted to ever come to. While certainly a thought you've had, and entertained previously, agreeing to it aloud is an entirely different beast. 

"She's my mom, though," you mumble. "She raised me."

"What she did for you previously should never be enough for you to ignore what she does to you now. I've never seen you come home happy after seeing her. You're never anything short of miserable. That makes me miserable, honey," the pads of his fingertips brush against your cheek, and you hum as a quiet response. "I hate seeing you like this."

"I hate feeling like this."

"Yeah, I know," he murmurs. "Don't decide tonight. You're emotional—yes, you are. Don't look at me like that," he scolds as you jerk your head back to narrow your tear filled eyes at him. "But can you promise me you'll consider my option?"

"I promise."

"Okay. Good. I love you."

"I love you too."

January

He wasn't home. 

Three o'clock in the morning, and Spencer Reid was nowhere to be found. Not in his own apartment, like you had originally thought. Not collecting the last of your boxes from your own. Not anywhere he commonly would be. 

At three in the morning. 

You had tried calling him. Multiple times, actually. A flurry of messages followed in their wake, and you were growing increasingly impatient as you stand awkwardly outside his apartment, that had just recently become your apartment too. You didn't have a key yet — needing one to be cut for Spencer only had one thus far. 

He had promised he'd be home. When you'd asked him as you were leaving earlier that evening if you'd need to take the key, he said no, and that he'd be home all night. 

God forbid you actually believed him, apparently. 

You could've sat at that apartment door for three minutes or hours. You weren't too sure anymore. Staring off into space and making up a list of sentences to say to him when he finally showed up — if he showed up. 

It was embarrassing. Heels tucked next to you, dress bunched at your waist, head beginning to ache from the alcohol wearing off, and eyes beginning to droop from how exhausted you were. 

Shuffling of feet had you lifting your head, landing on an equally as exhausted looking Spencer Reid, who's lips were parting upon spotting you on the floor, and a sickening realisation settling on his facial features. 

"I'm sorry," he stumbled out as he helped you stand up, ignoring your protests as he picked up your heels for you. "I forgot you weren't staying at your friends. I just assumed—"

"—You forgot?"

You didn't sound angry. You didn't even sound a little irritated. It shatters his heart more to hear a painstakingly small, broken tone coat your words, instead of them being dipped in venom. 

He knew it was a pathetic excuse. He forgot. That's his whole thing. He doesn't forget. But he also isn't always called into his job at two in the morning for an in state amber alert. You didn't know that, though.

"Here, let's get you inside and out of your clothes," he places a hand on the small of your back and pushes you forwards into his apartment, your feet stumbling as you let him guide you around. 

"What do you mean you forgot?" you ask him, quietly. His stomach twists. 

"I got called into work. It was urgent. I had been so focussed on Hotch being freaked out I left without thinking. I'm so sorry, angel girl."

"Seriously?"

He freezes at your incredulous voice, his hands pausing at the top of your dress zipper. When he doesn't answer you immediately, you turn so you can look at him.

"You weren't home because you got called into work," you repeat the words over, and over, as if saying them more will make them any more sensical. He opens his mouth and begins to say your name, so you cut him off, "I was sitting there for—" you pause, checking the time on the wall clock across the room, "—two hours, Spencer. Drunk, and cold, and you weren't fucking picking up. Did you forget how to use your phone too? Did you forget how to contact your girlfriend?"

"You're tired, honey. Can you get some sleep and we talk about this tomorrow?"

"I'm fine, actually. We're having this discussion now."

"No, you're not. You're exhausted. Sleep deprivation affects your emotional regulators, and—"

"—For once, can you not fucking Reid-splain to me?" you spit. "I think I'm allowed to be a little upset with you, Spencer. You forgot about me!"

He agrees; he does deserve your anger. Though, it doesn't make this any easier to listen to, and it certainly doesn't make his biting of his tongue very easy. For he wants to argue with you. He didn't forget about you, and none of what happened tonight was due to anything other than his lack of focus on things that weren't at the forefront of his mind. Case in point; a missing child. 

A few more beats of silence pass by, and you're brushing past him into the kitchen, jerking your arm away when his hand reaches out to grab it. 

"Why is it always work?" you ask him. "All of our issues come back to your job."

"I don't know."

"Am I not worth more than your job?" 

The question itself hangs in thick air, and his hesitance is enough of an answer within itself. It isn't fair. You know that. His job is important, and you'd never actively ask him to choose you over saving somebody's life. He knew that.

"I'm not asking you to choose seeing me over saving a life," you verbalise your thoughts, when he still doesn't reply. "I'm never asking that of you. But you couldn't have called me back? Or texted me to see if I could go to a friend's? Or even come to you at work to get a key?"

"I—"

"—Forgot. I know," you mutter, almost bitterly, turning around to pick out a glass from the cabinet. 

It's another few moments of quiet. Save for the tap that runs as you get yourself water, and the shuffling of his feet as he hesitates, then takes tentative steps towards the kitchen bar. 

"I don't think I can do this anymore," you whisper, before he can get too close.

"Do what anymore?"

"Us."

The silence that follows deafens, and you have to flutter your eyes up to the ceiling to wane tears that threatened to spill. This was most certainly not how you imagined your night to go. 

"That's a big decision," he says, as if it weren't obvious.

"I know," and it's the finality in your voice that hurts him even more. 

"Can we please revisit this conversation in the morning? After you've slept?"

"My decision won't change."

"It might."

"Humour me with how we're supposed to move past this."

He freezes. "Um—we can talk. And we can even go to couple's therapy, or something," he ignores the face you pull. "I just think we—you—should make this decision when you're completely sober and rested."

You place the now empty glass on the bench again. "I won't have the courage to break up with you tomorrow."

"Is that not a sign that you shouldn't break up with me, then—"

"—Let me do this, damnit, Spencer!" you slam your hands down in front of you, eyes wide and almost desperate. 

He doesn't say anything more to argue with you. Instead, he bows his head, and you despise the crack in your heart at the way his eyes shut and shed a tear before his face is out of sight. 

You're moved out by the end of the month.

June

The universe is a wonderfully strange place. Somewhere you go to when things get too difficult, begging for respite and the freedom from yourself. Or when things are going so well you thank whoever was pulling the strings of your lifeline. 

You tried not to curse at the universe. What you give, you will receive. The love you expend will always be returned to you, whether that is in two minutes or two years. Hatred for the universe was always internalised and pushed down, for you'd rather that, than having the karmic Gods ruin your life any more. 

And yet; fuck you universe. 

You were recently asked who you love, in a group setting with people you barely knew. You'd have said your best friend's name, or your parents, but you felt awfully lonely amongst a group of people saying, "my partner", "my kids". You didn't think you were old enough yet for the most important person in your life not being the woman who raised you (though, she would never be that anyways). 

You said his name before you could even comprehend it. Before your brain had a second to stop running on autopilot to think. The two syllables flying past your lips, embarrassingly so. 

When someone asks you who you love, you think of him. 

Perhaps this was all your own fault. If you had just bided your tongue, held onto your pride and mumbled a quiet, "My mom, I guess", you wouldn't have spoken his existence back into the universe. 

It was a quiet, "Oh. Hello," that'd prompted your head to lift from your phone, attempting to tune out the busy train. And there he was, standing tall, messenger bag crossing over his body. 

"Hi," you say, breathless, air knocked from your lungs. 

"Can I... um, sit? All the other seats are taken."

And like you would if he was a stranger, you nod your head, shuffling a little closer to the side, allowing for him to sit down next to you. 

"Your hair's gotten long," Spencer Reid says, quietly.

"Yeah, I need to go get it cut. You have more—um, facial hair. Like it's more prominent. Like thicker," you stammer. 

"Yeah," you see his lips twitch into a small smile out of the corner of your eye. "I just got back from a case. I haven't had time to shave."

You manage to push down a comment about you liking it. 

And as if you were not strangers, he asks you, "How are you?"

You know he doesn't mean currently. Subconsciously asking you to tell him you're doing awfully without him, that the past six months had been horrible and you miss him dearly. 

It's true, but you can't say that.

Instead, you opt for a nonchalant, "I'm okay," and, "How are you?"

"Okay, too," he says, and you wonder how much truth his words hold. 

"How's work been?"

You don't know if you actually care. Asking aimlessly about the thing you had to blame for him becoming a solidified memory in your brain, and not a current experience. 

"Busy," he answers. "I've barely been home."

Not much has changed, it seems. "That sucks. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he replies. "It's kept me from wallowing."

"Can't say I've had the same fate."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

It was your own fault, really. And maybe he thought that. Maybe he's making fun of you in his mind for being sad and feeling horrible things after the breakup, because it was you who initiated it, at the end of the day. 

No, he isn't. You know that. Spencer Reid doesn't do that.

"It's okay," you finally say, words spoken on a breath. 

Silence covets the two of you, a thousand words on the tip of your tongue, but none ever spoken aloud. A silent conversation dancing in the air between your two bodies.

Do you miss me?

Yes. Do you miss me?

More than anything. 

But then the train stops, and his station is called, and he's standing awkwardly, forcing a tight smile onto his face, as he bids you goodbye. 

And for a few long half seconds, you watch him walk away, very slowly, for time has stopped for just a few beats of your heart. Then, you're calling his name, and he's stopping, as if he had expected you to reach out to him before he could get too far. 

You stare up at him for another beat longer, and you wonder if he's quite content to miss his station, just to talk to you some more. 

"Do you want to get coffee?"

"To wait an hour — is long — if love be just beyond. To wait eternity — is short — if love reward the end." (Emily Dickinson)

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Heyy, could you maybe do an age difference reader x Toto Wolff or sunshine x grumpy, where he has one of his headphone breaking moments and she scolds him in the middle of the garage? Like I’d find super funny like his smaller, younger wife yelling at him for breaking his headphones and the fans and media eating that up haha. Please and thanks!! <3

The hum of the Mercedes garage was as familiar as it was chaotic, a rhythm of voices, machinery, and focused intensity. Engineers moved swiftly, the clatter of tools punctuating their discussions as mechanics fine-tuned the car for the upcoming race. Amidst the organized chaos, you stood by the monitors, scanning data with a calm focus that contrasted sharply with the frenetic energy around you.

Then it happened.

“Verdammt!” Toto’s voice boomed from the other end of the garage, startling even the most seasoned team members. Heads turned to see him, towering as always, but now radiating frustration. His expression was a storm cloud, and in his hands were the remnants of his latest pair of Bose headphones, the poor device snapped clean in two.

You let out a sigh, half amused, half exasperated. Your husband—the esteemed team principal of Mercedes-AMG Petronas, feared and respected across the paddock—had once again succumbed to his infamous headphone-breaking habit.

“Oh no, not again,” you muttered under your breath. You handed your tablet to a nearby engineer and strode across the garage, weaving through the maze of equipment and personnel. The team parted like the Red Sea as you approached, sensing what was about to unfold.

Toto stood there, oblivious to the audience he had attracted. His broad shoulders heaved as he tried to rein in his temper, the broken headphones dangling from his massive hands. He looked every bit the grumpy giant he was known to be, but to you, it was just another Friday.

“Toto Wolff,” you began, your voice sharp enough to cut through the air. His head snapped up, and his stormy gaze softened—just a little—when it landed on you. But his sheepish expression did nothing to quell your determination.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” you demanded, planting your hands on your hips. Despite being significantly shorter and younger than him, you had no trouble commanding the attention of a man who could intimidate entire boardrooms.

“They broke,” Toto said, as if that explained everything. He held up the shattered headphones as evidence, his Austrian accent thick in his defense.

“Oh, really?” you shot back, sarcasm dripping from your words. ���Did they break, or did you break them? Because I’ve lost count of how many pairs you’ve destroyed this season alone. What is it now, five? Six?”

A snicker rippled through the garage, and you caught George trying to suppress a grin from where he stood by the car. Even the media personnel hovering near the entrance couldn’t hide their amusement, cameras clicking furiously to capture the moment.

Toto’s ears turned red, a rare crack in his composed demeanor. “It was… a stressful situation,” he mumbled, looking anywhere but at you.

“Stressful?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “And snapping your headphones in half helps how, exactly? Are you planning to intimidate Red Bull with broken electronics now?”

The garage erupted in laughter, and Toto’s lips twitched, caught between a scowl and a smile. He shifted awkwardly, the 6’4” team principal suddenly looking very much like a schoolboy caught red-handed.

“You need to control your temper, mein Liebling,” you said, softening your tone but not your resolve. “You’re setting a terrible example for the team. And for the record, I’m not buying you another pair. You can use the cheap earbuds like everyone else until you learn some self-restraint.”

Toto’s eyes widened, the horror of your words sinking in. “Not the earbuds,” he said, as if you’d suggested he race barefoot.

“Yes, the earbuds,” you confirmed, folding your arms. “Consider it a lesson in anger management.”

Another wave of laughter rippled through the team, and even Toto couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. He looked down at you, his eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and affection.

“You’re terrifying when you’re angry,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Good,” you replied, poking a finger into his chest. “Maybe you’ll finally listen to me.”

As you turned to walk away, the garage buzzed with whispered commentary and stifled laughs. The moment had been caught by every camera in the vicinity, and you had no doubt it would be all over social media within the hour.

A shadow loomed over you, and you turned to see Toto standing there, an apologetic smile on his face. In his hand was a hastily repaired pair of headphones, held together with duct tape.

“I’ll behave,” he promised, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “No more broken headphones.”

“Good,” you said, giving him a pointed look. “Because next time, it’ll be the earbuds and no kisses for a week.”

He groaned dramatically but nodded, retreating to his post with his makeshift headphones. You shook your head, a fond smile tugging at your lips. He might be a grumpy giant with a penchant for breaking expensive electronics, but he was your grumpy giant. And if keeping him in line meant scolding him in front of the entire team, well, you were more than up to the task.

[callsigns-haze]

I love your Tyler fics so much, I just love imagining dad/husband Tyler 😭😭 can I please request something where he always introduces her to people as “my wife”? Like they’re newlyweds and he just loves slipping in “wife” whenever he can 🥹

The Weight of a Word

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Chapter of all fluff

A/N: So I reached 500 followers today and got a few fics done...

The sky above them was a shifting tapestry of dark clouds, a fitting backdrop for the storm-chasing team that had just reunited. The air was thick with tension, the thrill of the chase palpable in every glance and gesture. But amidst the chaos, there was a lightness to Tyler Owens, a quiet joy that radiated from him like sunshine breaking through the storm clouds.

Tyler stood by the team’s van, his arm casually draped over Y/N’s shoulders, pulling her close. They had been together for years now, but something had changed in the past few months—something that Tyler couldn’t quite keep to himself, no matter how hard he tried. He was still basking in the glow of their recent wedding, the memory of saying “I do” still fresh and vivid in his mind. It was a feeling he cherished, a pride that he carried with him everywhere they went.

“Tyler!” one of the team members called, approaching with a wide grin. “You ready for this? We’ve got a big one heading our way.”

Tyler nodded, his eyes flicking from the sky to his teammate, but he couldn’t help himself. He had to share his happiness, had to let the world know how lucky he was. “Yeah, we’re ready,” he replied, a grin spreading across his face as he gave Y/N’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “By the way, have you met my wife?”

There it was again—that word. It rolled off his tongue so easily now, but every time he said it, he felt a surge of pride and love. Wife. The title still felt new, like a shiny badge he got to wear every day, and he couldn’t help but show it off. He turned to Y/N, his eyes sparkling with affection, and she smiled back at him, clearly amused by how much he enjoyed saying it.

The teammate chuckled, extending a hand to Y/N. “Nice to meet you! I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” Y/N replied with a grin, shaking his hand.

Tyler watched the exchange, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. He loved seeing her here, a part of his world, blending into the life he led so effortlessly. And more than that, he loved the way she looked at him when he called her his wife, like she was just as thrilled by the title as he was.

As they continued to prepare for the storm, Tyler couldn’t resist sneaking in the word whenever he got the chance. Introducing her to anyone new, he would say it with that same proud grin—“This is my wife.” Even in casual conversation with the team, it slipped in naturally: “My wife thinks this storm is going to be a big one,” or “We’ve been talking about this since before we got married.”

It wasn’t just the word itself that mattered, though it did make him feel like he was part of something bigger, something more meaningful. It was the way Y/N’s eyes lit up every time he said it, the way she would squeeze his hand or lean into him just a little bit closer. It was the way she made him feel like he was doing something right, just by loving her, just by being proud to call her his.

As the storm began to close in, the team started moving with more urgency, checking their equipment and finalizing their plans. But even in the midst of the chaos, Tyler couldn’t stop himself from glancing over at Y/N every now and then, his heart swelling with affection. They had always been a team, but this was different. This was forever.

“Tyler,” Y/N said softly, drawing his attention as they stood together, watching the sky. “You know you don’t have to keep introducing me like that, right?”

He looked at her, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “I know, but I can’t help it. I just… I love saying it. I love the way it feels.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head slightly, but the warmth in her eyes told him she understood. “Well, I love hearing it. So I guess we’re both happy.”

Tyler leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and then pulled back to look at her. “I promise, I’ll never get tired of calling you my wife.”

“And I’ll never get tired of being your wife,” she replied, her voice soft and sincere.

As the wind picked up and the first raindrops began to fall, Tyler knew they had to focus on the task at hand. But even as they ran to their positions, as the storm loomed ever closer, he couldn’t shake the joy that filled him every time he said that word.

Wife.

It was more than just a title; it was a promise, a declaration of his love, a reminder of the life they had chosen to build together. And no matter how many storms they faced, no matter how wild the weather got, Tyler knew that this was the one thing that would always anchor him, the one thing that mattered most.

As they stood side by side, ready to face whatever the storm would bring, Tyler took Y/N’s hand in his, squeezing it gently. And with a smile that reached his eyes, he whispered one last time, just for the two of them:

“My wife.”

Requests for Tyler are open be free to send in as much as you wish!

tagging some:

@senawashere

@saviorcomplexrry

@cevansbaby-dove

@saynotononsense

@missdottie

@willowisp7

@taorislover94

@eloquenceinpurple

@86laura11

@rosiahills22

@jessicab1991

@kmc1989

@shanimallina87

@eternalsams

@teen-antisocial

[yeyinde]

thinking many thoughts about a therapist reader stuck with price after he gets himself written up for mandatory anger management sessions by laswell…

he'd fight that on every level imaginable. poor reader. in storms this burly bear of a man who is uncommunicative (at best) and aggressively pacing around the room like a caged tiger, ripping apart the fundamentals of your profession (at worst).

i see Price as a mix of his traditional upbringing and someone struggling to circumvent some of the uglier aspects of these values that he doesn't believe in. on one hand, he can respect therapy as a whole. but on the other, when it comes to him and his problems, it's pseudoscience. a man of many, many contradictions. he's very much a "respect is earned, not given" kinda guy in my head and i don't think he really holds any love for what he sees as someone trying to change him (even if it's for the best).

but also. i love pairing him up with smart, ernest people. i think the juxtaposition between him (eternal grump) and them (burgeoning sunshine) is just spectacular. and his therapist having that easy-going, i'll split my hard earned cookie in half so everyone gets a piece/yes, i did bring enough gum for the whole class i'm so glad you asked! temperament would be impossible for him to deal with. anyone else and he'd just blow up. leave. throw his impressive weight around to get what he wants.

but then he's faced with this competent person (which he respects) who is just genuinely trying to help him because they see something in him that he doesn't want to admit is still there, and ahhhhhh. i'd love to see him flustered. uncomfortable. and i think that'd do it. (plus. i love throwing a person at him who is the model of his speech he gave Gaz, which i 100% believe was ALL bullshit. i think he felt Kyle slipping away and needed something to reel him back in, and also; it's Cope. he prescribed himself a serious dose of Cope, and it's so obvious. UGH. what a dumb, emotionally stunted, manipulative man. gimme him RIGHT NOW. and then you pop up and it's a slap in the face against everything he pretends to believe in!!!!)

anyway!!!! the first thing he says when meeting you would be some eclectic mix of disrespect and grumpy old man yelling at clouds.

"this might work for other people, sweetheart, but it won't work for me." and you just sit, stunned, and try to wrap your head around that.

[huntingingoodwill]

aren’t you gonna tuck me in? (j.m.)

masterlist

pairing: brat!reader x joel miller

prompt: goodnight kiss

a/n: a lil sumn for @janaispunk’s 1.5k kisses challenge!!! with a bit of a grumpy x sunshine dynamic smirk smirk... congrats babes 💕

“You crazy old motherfucker!” Your screams were tinged with laughter as Joel slung you over his shoulder, carrying you out of the Tipsy Bison. 

“Who’re you calling a crazy old motherfucker?” Joel grumbled, locking his arm tight around your thigh and kicking open the door as he pointedly ignored your friends’ whoops and whistles. 

You blew them a kiss before they disappeared behind the swinging door, at which point you gestured to the desolate road Joel had carried you out onto.

“Don’t see any other crazy old motherfuckers around.” 

The slice of light that fell upon the road from the open door reduced into nothingness as it swung shut, leaving you and Joel awash in blue moonlight. 

“If I’m crazy, it’s only ‘cause you drove me to the brink-” He paused in exasperation, landing a smack to your thigh that prompted a delicious, ticklish pain to shoot up your leg, and peals of laughter to come falling out your mouth,“will you stop wiggling up there?” 

“Sure thing.” The saccharine words dripped off your tongue before you halted your movements, muscles slackening as you draped your dead weight over his shoulder. 

“Jesus,” He huffed, suddenly exhausted as he had to literally shoulder the burden of your lax body. “Y’know what, just get down.” He said, quickly lowering you to the ground. 

“Joel Miller, you are quite the party pooper.” You chuckled, stumbling to your feet. 

He had stormed into the Tipsy Bison, locking eyes with yours as he pushed past a crush of people, causing your lips to twist into a smirk and your heartbeat to quicken in time with the beat of the warbling song blasting from the jukebox. He had barely given you time to shoot off a sly remark before he tossed you over your shoulder and whisked you away, an act much more interesting to you than the drunken conversation you were enjoying with your friends. 

“I did not poop any parties.” He said, watching you stifle a laugh as you walked beside him. “Maybe you don’t recall, but we’re on patrol together tomorrow, and I am not gonna play nurse to you when you’re hungover on a horse.” 

When Tommy had first put the both of you on patrol together, he had thought his brother was pulling some sick joke. He probably was. You had taken a particular interest in Joel whenever you saw him around Jackson, never failing to deliberately bump into him and engage in some teasing that would render Tommy helpless with laughter as Joel stood on, unamused. 

As much as Joel hated to admit it, and as much as he felt he really was being driven crazy on his patrols with you, he had almost come around to it.

The gleam of your smile in those dark forests as you told him corny jokes around a crackling fire. Like sunlight peeking out from behind a dark cloud.

He pushed the thought away. Maybe you really were driving him to the brink. 

“Please,” you rolled your eyes, gait leisurely besides his focused march down the road, “I’ve been hungover on that horse before and you never had to baby me. I just think you hate fun.” 

“I do not ‘hate fun’.” He said, his monotonous drawl sounding pretty fun-hating, “...But maybe you were having too much fun. ‘Specially with that boy of yours.” 

He regretted letting the words slip as soon as he said them, but he couldn’t deny the flare of heat that simmered under his skin when he entered the bar to see you laughing your head off with one of the guys that always seemed to trail after you around Jackson. 

“Oh. My. God.” You said, a thin sheen of dust rising around your boots as you screeched to a halt. 

“What?” Joel said, heart pounding as he whipped his head around.

“You’re jealous!” 

“I am not-“ Joel spluttered, heat blooming across his collar. 

“I’m walking home with a green-eyed monster!” You grabbed him by the jaw, and Joel prayed you couldn’t feel the heat from his cheeks searing the pads of your fingers. You turned his head, prompting him to look in your eyes. He had to fight off the urge to melt against your touch under the intensity of your stare, his jaw clenching beneath your fingers.

“Nope. Not green. Still shit brown.” You said, killing the moment with a grin. 

Joel shook you off, quickening his pace rather unsteadily as you continued to walk beside him. 

“You’re obsessed with me. First, you’re carrying me out of the Tipsy Bison, and next, you’ll be carrying me over the threshold after our wedding." You laughed.

That made even more heat blossom in his cheeks, and he tried to push that image out of his mind as he cleared his throat, biting his tongue as he let you carry on.

“Don’t be too jealous, Joel.” You purred, slipping your arm through his, nuzzling up to him in a way that made blood roar in his ears, “That guy’s not really my type. I like older guys.” You placed extra emphasis on the last phrase, making Joel’s head swim. 

After making him squirm under your gaze for a couple seconds, you burst into laughter.

“As mean as you look, you get flustered so easily. It’s adorable.” You said, punctuating the sentence with a coddling pout. 

“I’m glad you think it’s funny.” Joel grumbled, eyes trained straight ahead. 

“It’s hilarious.” 

Your footsteps trailed off as the both of you arrived in front of his house, staring at its squat silhouette in the dark. 

You turned to grin at him, Joel shooting a sideways glance at you, debating whether or not to take the bait. 

“What?” He mumbled, taking the bait. 

“Miller, you devil. You could’ve at least bought me a drink before bringing me back to your place.” 

He rolled his eyes, walking up the porch steps as you trailed behind him. 

“Your place is all the way on the other side of Jackson. So you can either sleep here tonight, or we’ll spend another hour walking around in the dark.” He said, opening the door. 

“Excuses, excuses.” You clucked your tongue, shaking your head with false disapproval, "As much as I'd like that long, romantic, moonlit walk, I am getting a little sleepy. I'll stay the night."

He held the door open for you, gesturing for you to head inside, a motion that you simply returned with an expectant stare.

“What?” He said, trying not to shift under your gaze.

“Aren’t you gonna carry me over the threshold?” 

“Get your ass in the damn house.” 

Your laughter rang, clear as a bell, through the sparse rooms of his house as you kicked off your boots, flouncing up the stairs as if you were right at home. 

He heard the sound of his shower turning on and the syrupy hum of your voice over the splash of water.

He reached for your shoes, overturned and muddied, before straightening them and placing them next to his. Staring at the both of them next to each other, your voice ringing in his ears as you sang a discordant melody in the shower, a flicker of strange emotion shot through him. 

The realisation he wouldn’t mind picking up after you, putting your shoes next to his. They would have a place next to each other, where they belonged, whenever you came home. 

The realisation that he wouldn’t mind if your voice filled up every room in the house, where once he thought he was content with silence. 

As he poured a glass of water for you and began carrying it up to his bedroom, he realised he wouldn’t mind bringing up a glass of water for you every night, and a cup of coffee every morning. 

“I’m going insane.” He muttered to himself, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. 

“You decent?” He called out, knocking on his bedroom door. 

“Hardly ever. Come in!” You sang. 

The scent of his soap hung in the air, clinging to your skin. You grinned at him, a soft glow haloing you from his bedside lamp as you towelled water out of your hair, one of his flannels hanging off your frame.  

“Is that mine?” He swallowed, the words flying out of his mouth so quickly they almost sounded accusatory. 

“Yeah.” You turned to look at his furrowed brow. “What? I can give it back to you if you want.” You said, beginning to unbutton it.

He averted his eyes, that familiar heat shooting under his skin again. “Jesus- just- you can keep it on.” 

You burst into laughter as Joel rubbed the back of his heated neck.

“You can sleep in my bed tonight. I’ll sleep on the couch.” He mumbled. 

“Thank you, Joel.” You whispered, your sincerely grateful, soft voice sending his walls tumbling down.

He cut his eyes at you one more time, a vision in his worn, old flannel, before making a move to leave. 

You cleared your throat, the noise exaggeratedly loud in the quiet room. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” 

He looked at you, his deep brown eyes wide in confusion, a furrow set in his brow. 

“Aren’t you gonna tuck me in?” 

His cheeks reddened as he stared at you, swallowing thickly. 

Hiding his trepidation behind an exasperated eye roll, he crossed the room. His hand, the skin rough in contrast to the soft blanket, pulled the fabric over your body, covering you. You smiled up at him, that evil glint in your eye that drove him crazy shining up at him. 

“Goodnight kiss?” You whispered with feigned innocence, glancing up at him through thick lashes. 

“Christ.” He whispered, heartbeat pounding in his ears, his heart somewhere between wanting, annoyance and restraint. 

“Please?” You whispered, lips turning up at the corners into the sweetest smile he’d ever seen. 

He felt his resolve crumble to pieces, and he couldn’t resist. He leaned in, heartbeat kicking in his chest as he pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek. 

He felt dizzy as he felt your hot breath against his ear, the soft skin of your cheek nuzzling into the scruff on his cheek. 

“Oh, c’mon,” you whispered, lips ghosting his cheek, “you can do better than that, can’t you?” 

He melted against your touch, barely able to formulate a smart retort before he felt your teeth digging into his cheek. 

“Jesus!” He recoiled, the bite radiating with a dull pain. 

“That’s for pooping my party, Miller.” Laughter bubbled from your lips as you watched him run his fingers over the grooves your teeth left in his skin. 

“You’re fucking crazy.” His wounded tone just made you even more amused, your smile growing on your face. 

“Don’t sulk.” You pouted, hand reaching up to skim a thumb across his cheek, and he couldn’t help leaning into your touch. “Let me kiss it better.” 

He let you press a kiss to the quickly fading bite mark, his head swimming as your tongue darted out, giving him a playful lick before you laughed against his skin, breath fanning out over his cheek. 

He turned his head, forehead pressed against yours as his nose brushed yours, his eyes screwed shut.

“You’re driving me crazy.” He mumbled. 

“I know.” 

He pressed his lips to yours, that strange, floaty feeling he had felt downstairs washing over him. You held him close, fingers entangling in the soft curls at the nape of his neck as you pulled him onto the bed. 

Lying on his back, he let you press your palms against his shoulders. He stared at the ceiling, feeling barely there, as if he could have just slipped away, your hands the only thing pinning him to earth. He felt it with every kiss you pressed to his lips, when your lips ghosted the line of his jaw, his neck. You were everywhere, and he wanted to keep it that way. 

“All better?” You said, voice barely audible over the roar of blood in his ears. 

“Yes.” 

“Y’know,” you whispered, tracing the line of his jaw with your lips, “I just realised something.“ You looked down at him, the smile that meant trouble returning to your face. “We have a really early morning tomorrow. Goodnight, Joel!���

Just like that, you had rolled off of him and turned off the light, plunging the both of you into darkness. He laid there, barely registering what had just happened, his body already missing your warmth. 

He turned to look at you, your face slackened with sleep as your breath evened out, completely calm in the embrace of sleep as his heart still pounded in his chest, giddy as he turned back to stare at the ceiling. 

He was definitely going crazy.

[bandsofmarv]

Wild and soft

Grumpy age gap Logan howlett

TW - smut , angst , age gap.

The bar was noisy, filled with the chatter of locals and the occasional crash of a pool cue against the floor. You sat at a small table in the corner, sipping a drink and trying not to grin too much at the scowl etched on Logan’s face.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his broad chest, the dim light catching the lines of his rugged features. He looked like a storm cloud ready to burst, his usual gruffness on full display.

“You’re staring,” he muttered, his voice a low growl.

“Can’t help it,” you replied with a cheerful shrug. “You’re fun to look at.” Logan gave you a pointed glare. “You know, most people try not to piss me off.”

“Most people aren’t me,” you quipped, taking another sip of your drink. You weren’t scared of him. Sure, Logan was intimidating—growly, gruff, and built like a tank—but you’d learned pretty quickly that beneath the tough exterior, he had a soft spot. Especially for you.

“Remind me why I put up with you again?” he grumbled, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“Because you secretly like me,” you teased, leaning forward with a grin.

Logan huffed, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re grumpy,” you shot back. “Guess we make a good pair.”

The age gap between you had been a point of contention when you first met. Logan had tried to push you away, insisting you deserved someone younger, someone who hadn’t been through as much darkness as he had. But you were nothing if not persistent, and eventually, he’d stopped fighting it. Stopped fighting you.

Now, here you were—his sunshine to his storm cloud.

“C’mon, Logan,” you said, tilting your head. “Let’s play pool. I promise not to beat you too badly.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You? Beat me? Don’t get cocky, kid.”

You smirked, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the pool table. He didn’t resist, though he grumbled under his breath about your stubbornness.

As you set up the game, Logan stood behind you, watching with a predatory gaze that made your heart race. His presence was magnetic, and you were hyper-aware of the way his body radiated heat, the way his hands clenched and unclenched like he was holding himself back.

“You gonna stare all night, or are you gonna play?” you teased, glancing over your shoulder.

Logan stepped closer, his voice a low rumble. “Careful, darlin’. You’re playing with fire.”

“Good thing I’m not scared of getting burned,” you shot back, your voice softer now.

His eyes darkened, and before you could blink, he was right behind you, his hands bracing on the table on either side of you. You froze, your breath hitching as he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“You should be,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“Logan,” you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest.

He turned you around in one swift motion, pinning you against the edge of the table. His hands were firm on your waist, his grip possessive, and his eyes burned into yours with an intensity that left you breathless.

“Been tryin’ to hold back,” he admitted, his voice rough. “But you make it real hard, sweetheart.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt. “Then stop holding back.”

That was all it took. Logan’s lips crashed against yours, hungry and demanding, his hands sliding up to tangle in your hair. You kissed him back with just as much intensity, your arms wrapping around his neck as he lifted you onto the table.

His mouth left yours to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his stubble grazing your skin in a way that made you gasp. His hands roamed your body, rough and calloused, but his touch was surprisingly gentle, like he was afraid of breaking you.

“Logan,” you breathed, your voice trembling.

“Say it again,” he growled, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear.

“Logan,” you repeated, your nails digging into his shoulders as his hands slid beneath your shirt, his touch igniting every nerve in your body.

“Mine,” he muttered against your skin, his voice raw with possession. “You’re mine, darlin’.

I smiled in content. I could get used to this.

[enhasntty]

Sunshine And Scowls - YJW

pairing: yang jungwon x f!reader summary: A grumpy university student reluctantly bonds with her cheerful classmate, Jungwon, after he persistently tries to get close. From a group project, to a surprise party. As the two of you become closer, you slowly realize that despite your differences, you might just like him more than you'd care to admit. warnings: Reader calls jungwon a "pain in the ass", they kiss, reader is kind of rude to jungwon and make a lot of sarcastic comments, reader gets jealous, lmk if I forgot anything else genre: Fluff, Grumpy x sunshine word count: 17042 note: I kind of gave up on this so it might seem repetitive but I still wanted to post something today. Please like and reblog and follow!! They are very much appreciated.

Jungwon wasn’t sure what had possessed him to walk out of the library and take a detour to the back of the campus. But there you were, leaning against a brick wall. Your expression was the kind of miserable that made everyone else around you feel guilty for breathing. It was like you were daring the universe to make your day worse, and he, a walking ray of sunshine, had decided to stroll right into it.

He paused a few feet away. You didn’t seem to notice him at first, and for a moment, Jungwon considered turning around. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to deal with someone who looked like they wanted to throw a punch at the next person who spoke.

But no. He was Jungwon. Smiley, always-trying-to-help Jungwon. He had to do something.

He cleared his throat, stepping closer. “Hey, uh, is this seat taken?”

You looked up at him, eyes narrowing slightly, as if he were some kind of stray dog daring to approach. He wasn’t fazed; he had a smile for this kind of situation. He flashed it at you-big, bright, with his dimples poking out just a little, because he knew it was hard to resist.

You didn’t even flinch.

“Seriously, you're gonna try and talk to me now?”

Jungwon blinked. Was that… was that a challenge? He’d been hit with a lot of things before, but that tone? That was next level.

“Uh, yeah?” he said, trying to keep his cool. “I mean, it’s a free country, right?”

“Clearly.” “But I’m not sure ‘freedom’ includes being your therapist.”

He could’ve sworn he saw the ghost of a smile at the corner of your lips, but it was gone so fast he couldn’t be sure. Still, that didn’t stop him from being hopeful.

“Not a therapist,” Jungwon said, his grin widening. “Just a guy looking to not die of boredom on his way back to class.”

You stared at him for a moment. “Right. Because your best idea for curing boredom is me?”

Jungwon let out a small laugh, totally unfazed. “Yeah, I mean, you look like you’ve got a lot going on. Might be fun to… I don’t know… complain about school or something.”

You let out a dry laugh, a mix of sarcasm and bitterness. “Oh, absolutely. Let me tell you about my deeply meaningful relationship with procrastination and the crushing weight of my student loans.”

He chuckled, unable to resist. “Sounds like a good start to me.”

“Trust me,” you said, deadpan, “the only thing I’m invested in right now is my hatred for group projects.”

“That’s… pretty relatable,” Jungwon admitted, looking like he wanted to sit down but wasn’t sure how to breach your fortress of apathy. “But, hey, I’m Jungwon. I’m in the business of-”

“Smiling like an idiot?” you interrupted, your voice flat. “Yeah, I gathered that.”

He was taken aback, but only for a second. He laughed again, the dimples on his cheeks deepening as he grinned. You made it too easy.

“Okay, okay,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I admit, I might smile too much. But it’s better than being, I don’t know, a walking storm cloud.” He leaned against the wall beside you, pretending to adjust his backpack. “You look like you could use a little sunshine in your life.”

You gave him the most unimpressed look. “If I wanted sunshine, I would’ve gone to a beach. This is… campus.”

He squinted at the sky for a moment. “I mean, it’s technically sunny… somewhere, right?”

You shook your head and sighed dramatically. “You’re really persistent. I’ll give you that.”

“And that’s why I'm so amazing,” he teased, his grin stretching wider, clearly enjoying this.

You shot him a look that could’ve melted steel, but Jungwon wasn’t fazed. “Keep dreaming, sunshine,” you muttered. “I’m just here to get through the day without punching anyone.”

“Fair enough,” he said, giving you an exaggerated, overly cheery wave. “Catch you later, then.”

You didn’t even look at him as he walked away, still grinning to himself. The conversation had been weirdly… refreshing. Even if you did look like you wanted to strangle him half the time.

You were absolutely not going to let it bother you.

But as Jungwon disappeared into the distance, you couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take before that annoying, relentless sunshine found its way back to you.

Mornings had never been your thing. In fact, mornings were the embodiment of everything wrong in the universe-especially when you were forced to attend early lectures that made you question why you even bothered getting out of bed in the first place. The clock buzzed way too early, your bed felt way too warm, and the thought of dragging yourself through another day was almost enough to make you reconsider dropping out and living off instant noodles in your dorm room.

But that wasn’t an option. Not yet, anyway.

You stumbled out of bed, your eyes still blurry from the late-night studying (scrolling through tiktok on your phone) and the lack of sleep that seemed to follow you everywhere like an unavoidable cloud of doom. After an agonizingly slow attempt at making yourself somewhat presentable for class, you were finally out the door-barely. The only thing keeping you upright was the steaming cup of coffee in your hand and the hope that the caffeine would somehow revive your spirit.

Of course, fate had other plans.

You turned the corner of the campus quad, your shoes making a slap on the pavement, when a certain pair of dimples appeared in your peripheral vision.

Jungwon. Of course.

He was standing near the entrance of the library, just outside, the sun glinting off his messy hair as he grinned like he had won some sort of award. It was as though he had just been waiting for the perfect moment to talk to you, despite the fact that you had given him zero encouragement to do so in the past week.

You didn’t even try to hide the groan that escaped your lips as you turned away, pretending you hadn’t seen him. Maybe if you ignored him, he would go away.

But no. Jungwon was the type of person who never gave up. Ever.

“Hey! Good morning!” His voice rang through the air, too loud and way too cheery for your liking. His smile was practically blinding, and you could feel the force of his positivity barreling toward you, despite your best efforts to stay hidden.

You pressed your lips together and kept walking, slow and steady, pretending like you didn’t hear him. Maybe if you moved at a pace that made him think you were on a mission, he’d stop following you.

But no. There he was again, stepping in front of you in the most ridiculous way possible, like a puppy that had just learned how to walk and needed constant attention.

“Wait up! Come on, it’s just me,” Jungwon said, his voice laced with that infuriating optimism you could practically feel radiating off him. “You look like you need company today.”

“I look like I need sleep,” you muttered under your breath, hoping he wouldn’t hear you. But knowing him, he probably would.

He did.

“Sleep sounds pretty great,” he agreed, nodding enthusiastically like a little kid who had just gotten a candy bar for breakfast. “But you know what else sounds amazing?”

You were already bracing yourself. You knew this would be some random, probably absurd statement that made absolutely no sense to you, but you had to listen anyway. “What?” you asked flatly, your voice as uninterested as you could make it.

“Coffee!” He beamed at you like he had just come up with the world’s most profound logical answer. “I bet you need some! Want me to get you one from that place near the main building?”

You gave him a side-eye that could’ve sliced through steel. “I have my coffee right here,” you said, holding the cup up just slightly, hoping to make it clear that you didn’t need him to save you.

“But your coffee isn’t from that place,” Jungwon pointed out, raising an eyebrow as though he had caught you in some big lie. “You’ve got the basic stuff. It’s not the good stuff.”

“It’s not ‘basic.’ It’s… functional,” you grumbled, taking another sip to emphasize your point.

He tilted his head, squinting like you had just confused him with your logic. “What’s wrong with basic? I think ‘basic’ coffee is pretty great, too.” He laughed, clearly enjoying himself. “I just… you know, thought you might want something special today. You look like you need something special.”

Your eyes narrowed as you studied his smiling face. “I’m fine, Jungwon. Seriously.”

It was like you had spoken in a foreign language. He simply shrugged and continued his relentless pursuit. “Okay, okay, but you know what else sounds good? A nice, big breakfast. We could grab something from the cafeteria! Pancakes. Eggs. Bacon.” He dragged out the last word with such fervor that you almost believed he was a personal spokesperson for bacon.

But you weren’t in the mood for breakfast food. Or anything really. You just needed to survive this lecture and go back to sleep. “I’m not hungry,” you said again, your tone a little sharper this time.

He didn’t seem to take the hint.

“Are you sure?” Jungwon asked, his eyes sparkling with that unwavering positivity. “I’ve heard that the cafeteria has the best bacon today! And the pancakes-they’re seriously huge. You could probably eat like… five or six.”

That was enough.

You stopped walking, turned to face him fully, and glared. Your patience had worn thin, and it seemed like the coffee hadn’t quite done its magic just yet. “You’re honestly insufferable,” you said, barely keeping your voice down. “What makes you think I want to talk to you right now? Do you enjoy making people uncomfortable on purpose?”

Jungwon blinked, a little taken aback by your sudden sharpness. But, as always, he recovered quickly. His dimples deepened as he gave you that smile again, this time not so much innocent but more like he was genuinely amused by your lack of enthusiasm.

“I mean, you look like you could use someone to talk to,” he said cheerfully. “I’m just trying to help out! I get that mornings aren’t your thing, but hey, you don’t have to go through the day alone.” He beamed, clearly proud of his attempt to be the “good guy” here.

You could feel your eye twitching. “What makes you think I need help? I don’t need anything from you, Jungwon,” you said dryly. “Except maybe a little distance. I mean, seriously, can you just let me go to class in peace? I don’t have the mental energy to fight through whatever this is.”

You pointed to him, your finger jabbing the air as though you were physically trying to push him out of your way. “You’re like a walking sunbeam, and it’s too much for me right now.”

Jungwon’s grin only widened at the jab. He took a half step back, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, I get it,” he said, still laughing under his breath. “But hey, I’m just trying to make your day a little brighter, y’know?”

“Yeah,” you deadpanned. “Well, maybe you should try dimming it down a bit. You’re like a human lightbulb.”

His eyes twinkled at your sarcasm, and for a moment, you almost felt like he was enjoying being the target of your frustration. “I’ll take that as a compliment. If I’m a lightbulb, then I’m the energy-efficient kind, right? So I’m not too much.”

You exhaled deeply, your patience having completely evaporated as you stared at the bright-eyed idiot in front of you. “I’m going to class, Jungwon,” you said, your voice flat. “And you’re not coming with me.”

“But why?” he asked, looking almost genuinely puzzled by the idea that you might not want him tagging along.

“Because,” you said, turning your back on him with a sigh of finality, “I’d rather face a thousand group projects than have to listen to your chipper morning commentary.”

You heard a burst of laughter behind you, followed by the sound of footsteps trailing after you. “Fair enough! But hey, maybe I can catch you after class?”

“No,” you snapped, turning just enough to shoot him a glare over your shoulder.

But as Jungwon continued to follow you-his grin still there, like a damn puppy who had just been fed-he made one thing painfully clear: there was no escaping his relentless, absurdly cheerful presence.

And, for the first time in your life, you almost wished there was.

You weren’t sure if it was the universe’s cruel joke or just Jungwon’s unyielding persistence that landed him next to you in class. But there he was, sitting down beside you like he had some sort of permanent claim to your space. It wasn’t even the first time he had done this-he had a habit of showing up wherever you were, like an overenthusiastic puppy that had somehow learned to operate on your schedule. It was like a cursed game of hide and seek, except there were no winners.

You didn’t even try to hide the way you glared at him as he settled in next to you. It wasn’t personal, well, maybe it was a little, but you were just so damn tired. The last thing you wanted in your already draining lecture was the relentless force of sunshine that was Jungwon. Couldn’t he pick someone else to grace with his presence for once?

“Good morning!” he said, his voice annoyingly cheerful as he dropped his bag next to his seat.

You didn’t respond, hoping your silence would be enough to communicate your feelings. It wasn’t.

“Man, you really look tired,” he said, his gaze flicking to your slouched posture. He had no filter, not that you were surprised. “I mean, it’s not even halfway through the lecture yet and you look like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

That was because you would rather be anywhere else. But instead of letting him see you crumble under the weight of another too-early class, you rolled your eyes and pulled your notes in front of you, trying your best to ignore him.

“Yeah, well, mornings are evil,” you muttered under your breath, more to yourself than to him.

Jungwon didn’t miss a beat. “Evil? That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” He smiled, wide and innocent, as though he had never seen a single evil thing in his life. You could almost hear the ‘naive sunshine’ soundtrack playing in the background.

You tilted your head slightly to the side, glaring at him. “Oh, I’m sorry, was that too much for your pure heart to handle?”

He chuckled, clearly unfazed by your sarcasm. “No, no, it’s just… I think I like your grumpiness. It’s… endearing.”

You snorted, making no attempt to hide your disbelief. “Endearing? Really? Are we in some weird romantic comedy, or did I just time travel to a parallel universe where sarcasm is considered cute?”

“Hey, I didn’t say it was adorable or anything,” he said, leaning a little closer as if sharing some deep, world-changing secret. “But I’m definitely entertained.”

“Great, I’m here for your amusement,” you shot back, your voice dripping with dry humor. “I’ll put that on my résumé.”

He didn’t even seem to register the sarcasm. Instead, he leaned back in his seat with that unrelenting, radiant smile. You could practically feel the warmth of his personality radiating in every direction. How was he this… constant?

You shook your head and tried to focus on the lecture, but of course, your mind kept drifting back to him. Jungwon, the human equivalent of a puppy, was sitting there beside you, his smile still wide, his eyes still sparkling, and the dimples on his cheeks were like little magnets, pulling your attention even when you tried to look away.

And it was annoying. God, it was so annoying.

“It’s your fault for being so cute,” he said suddenly, making your stomach lurch and your eyes narrow in irritation.

Your pen clattered loudly on the desk as you swiveled in your chair to face him. “Did you just call me cute? Are you for real right now?”

He nodded, completely unfazed. “I mean, you kind of are. Even when you’re all grumpy.”

You deadpanned, barely able to keep a straight face. “You have absolutely no idea what you’re saying, do you?”

“I know exactly what I’m saying.” His grin stretched impossibly wider, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes once more. You couldn’t help it. How was it possible for someone to be so irritatingly cheerful? You were so tired, and he was just… there-and his constant optimism was like a slap in the face.

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You just don’t know how to take a compliment, do you?”

You crossed your arms, already feeling the familiar tension between you start to build. “You’re an absolute menace. I’m convinced that’s your only purpose in life-to annoy the hell out of me.”

“Well,” Jungwon said thoughtfully, glancing around the classroom, “if that’s true, then I’m definitely succeeding.” He looked back at you with that same, ever-present smile. “But you’re kind of fun to mess with.”

“Fun?” you asked, narrowing your eyes. “Are you kidding me? I’m the human equivalent of a bad mood, and you want to mess with me?”

He shrugged as though this wasn’t news to him. “Yeah, but that’s why it’s fun. You’re like… a grumpy cat.” He poked your shoulder lightly, making your body stiffen involuntarily.

“Do not call me a cat,” you growled under your breath. “I’m not cute. I’m not soft. I don’t even like cats.”

Jungwon’s face lit up like he had just won a prize. “See? There’s that fire! I love it.” He leaned back, clearly proud of himself. “I’m not giving up on you, you know.”

You stared at him, dead-eyed. “I wish you would.”

“Not gonna happen,” he said cheerfully, tapping his fingers rhythmically on his notebook. “I mean, you need me. You just don���t know it yet.”

“Yeah, because that’s exactly what I need-more of your… sunshine in my life,” you grumbled, sinking into your seat as though it could absorb all your frustration. You couldn’t even tell if you were genuinely annoyed anymore or if it was just a reflex at this point.

“I don’t know about you,” Jungwon said, suddenly serious, “but I think you’d be a lot less grumpy if you didn’t fight the sunshine so much. You need to take a step back and enjoy life a little more.”

The words hit you in a way that made you freeze. You didn’t expect him to say something like that. Not after all the teasing, the relentless optimism. But there it was-his absurdly sincere comment, like he’d been thinking about it all day.

You blinked, trying to cover up the sudden flutter of irritation mixed with something else. You weren’t sure what it was, but you weren’t about to admit that Jungwon had somehow managed to get under your skin in a way no one else had.

“Whatever, Jungwon,” you muttered, turning your attention back to the front of the class. “Just focus on whatever ridiculously happy thought you’re thinking right now.”

“Okay, okay,” he said with exaggerated seriousness. “But just know, I’m here for you. In case you ever need someone to drag you out of your grumpy little cave.”

“God, you are relentless,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

Jungwon chuckled under his breath, probably feeling like he had just won the world’s hardest battle. “If it makes you feel better, I think I might just be the only person who could handle your sarcasm.”

You turned to glare at him once more, but this time, there was something different in his expression. His smile wasn’t as bright or as teasing as before. It was softer, a little more sincere, though still laced with the kind of charm that made it impossible for you to stay mad at him for long.

And maybe that was the problem. Because even when you tried to hate him, it was hard to ignore the way your heart gave a little flutter when he smiled. Or the way you felt just a tiny bit lighter in his presence.

But you weren’t going to admit any of that. Not today. Not when the day was already too long and the lecture was only just beginning.

You didn’t know how it happened. One minute, you were minding your own business, trying to ignore the fact that you had an insane amount of work piling up for the week. The next, you were standing next to Jungwon, trying to suppress the overwhelming urge to knock your head against the desk in front of you.

“Guess we’re partners for the project,” Jungwon said, a grin spreading across his face like he had just won the lottery. “Isn’t that awesome?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, the tiny flutter of dread in your stomach slowly growing into full-blown anxiety. You could already feel your energy being drained just by his presence. You had been hoping for a solo project, but here you were-stuck with the human embodiment of a golden retriever on a caffeine high.

“Yeah,” you said flatly, “I’m absolutely thrilled.”

Jungwon chuckled, his eyes sparkling with that unrelenting positivity. “I knew you’d say that! You’re just so easy to predict, y’know?”

“Am I?” You crossed your arms and leaned back in your chair. “Well, let me guess, you’re going to make terrible jokes while I do all the work, right?”

“Hey!” He said with mock offense. “I’m a great partner. I can help lighten the mood, okay? I’m good at that. You’re just… stressed out. That’s all.” He gave you a small, encouraging smile that, for the thousandth time, didn’t quite help ease the anxiety you were feeling.

You deadpanned. “You’re a walking headache.”

His grin didn’t falter. In fact, it seemed to only widen, those dimples of his becoming deeper and more pronounced as he laughed. “Hey, I try to be funny, alright? I’m just here to make your day a little less boring.”

A deep sigh escaped your lips as you stared at your laptop screen, trying to force yourself to focus on the research in front of you. But Jungwon wouldn’t stop. Not even for a second.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye as he fiddled with his phone, clearly not doing anything remotely related to the project. He had that look-the one that said, “I’m here for moral support,” but you knew better. The last thing he was contributing to this project was anything remotely useful.

“You know,” Jungwon said after a brief pause, “I’ve always thought group projects would be better if there was a built-in joke timer. Like every five minutes, someone has to tell a joke or make everyone laugh.”

“Oh, yeah, great idea,” you muttered sarcastically. “Because the last thing we need right now is a comedy break while I’m drowning in work.”

“I mean,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “we could always take a break. A quick one. Just for a couple minutes. You know, to get our creative juices flowing.”

You stared at him blankly. “The only thing flowing right now is my blood pressure. And the only thing I need to do is finish this project before I implode.”

“You’re so dramatic,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s honestly kind of cute. Like, you’re mad, but you’re still, you know, adorable.”

“Adorable?” You glared at him, completely unimpressed. “Did you just call me adorable?”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant that you’ve got that… tough exterior, but it’s clear you’ve got a soft side somewhere. It’s just buried under all that sarcasm.”

“Jungwon,” you growled, your patience wearing thin, “I’m not ‘adorable,’ and I don’t have a ‘soft side.’ I’m just trying to survive this project with my sanity intact.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You really need to take a deep breath, okay? Maybe try a few stretches or something. I can show you some yoga moves. They really help relieve stress.”

The thought of Jungwon doing yoga with his annoyingly good-natured attitude sent a strange wave of disbelief through you. “Do you ever shut up?” you asked, staring at him with wide eyes. “You’re like a chatterbox on caffeine.”

His dimples deepened as he laughed again. “I just can’t help it. You’re too fun to mess with.”

You rubbed your temples, the headache beginning to form in earnest. “I think you’re the one who needs a time-out, not me.”

“Yeah, but time-outs are for people who aren’t fun,” he said, completely ignoring the sarcasm in your tone. “And I’m having way too much fun right now. It’s not my fault you’re a workaholic, you know. I mean, I’m just here trying to keep things light.”

Your gaze flicked back to your laptop, where you had barely managed to type a few lines of your report. The words were blurring together, and all you could hear was Jungwon’s relentless banter.

“You’re honestly a disaster,” you said, unable to hold back your frustration. “I could’ve done this project in half the time without you distracting me.”

“Aw, come on,” he said, flashing that infectious smile of his again. “It’s not that bad. We’re making memories! Think of it as character development. And besides, you’re definitely going to miss me when it’s over.”

“Yeah, no. I’ll be happy to never see you again after this project is done.”

Jungwon’s smile softened. He leaned closer, his voice taking on a more serious tone-well, as serious as Jungwon could get. “You know, you really don’t give yourself enough credit. I’m telling you, you’re doing great. And hey, I’m not going anywhere. You’ve got me stuck for the rest of this project.”

Your eyes narrowed in warning. “Don’t remind me.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, raising his hands defensively. “I’ll give you space to do your thing. But when this is over, I’m taking you out for something good. Food, coffee, whatever you want. I’m getting you something to reward your hard work.”

You exhaled, dragging your hand through your hair as you let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t need rewards. I need peace.”

Jungwon grinned, leaning back in his chair like a contented cat. “Well, you know where I’ll be when you change your mind.”

You slumped in your chair, staring at the screen, all the while wishing you could just somehow disappear from this situation. But as much as you hated to admit it, there was a strange comfort in the way Jungwon wouldn’t stop. He was like an annoying, cheerful force of nature, and despite the exhaustion and frustration building inside you, part of you couldn’t help but feel a little lighter when he was around.

The problem was, you didn’t want to admit that. Not yet. Not when you were still drowning in work.

The group presentation had been a disaster, as expected.

It wasn’t that Jungwon hadn’t tried-he had, in his own overly cheerful, mildly chaotic way. But he’d been so busy cracking jokes and trying to keep the energy light that he had completely fumbled the key points you’d painstakingly outlined. By the time the professor dismissed the class, you were practically vibrating with barely contained frustration.

“Seriously, Jungwon?” you said as soon as you both stepped out of the lecture hall. The words spilled out, sharp and cutting. “I gave you two things to do. Two. And you still managed to mess it up.”

He winced, scratching the back of his neck. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I just got… nervous, I guess.”

“Nervous?” you repeated, incredulous. “You’re never nervous. You’re like a walking embodiment of confidence. How does someone like you even get nervous?”

“I don’t know!” he said defensively, his dimples making an appearance despite his flustered state. “It’s not like I planned to screw up, okay?”

You groaned, “Unbelievable.”

Jungwon trailed after you as you headed toward the courtyard, his footsteps quick and purposeful. “Hey, come on. Cut me some slack, would you?”

“Cut you slack?” you repeated, rounding on him. “You’re the reason we probably just tanked our grade! Do you even care about this class?”

“Of course I care!” he said, his voice rising slightly. His usually sunny expression was replaced with something more serious, though the dimples didn’t entirely disappear. “And I care about you, too!”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and unshakable.

You froze, your eyes narrowing as you stared at him. “What?”

Jungwon looked like he wanted to disappear into the ground. His ears turned bright red, and he shifted uncomfortably under your gaze. “I-uh… I said I care about you,” he repeated, quieter this time.

You took a long pause. “What’s your point?”

“My point is…” He faltered, running a hand through his hair. “I like you, okay? Like, really like you.”

You stared at him, your face unreadable. Then you let out a short, dry laugh. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m not joking,” he said, his voice steady despite the obvious nerves in his expression. “I’ve liked you for a while now.”

“Wow,” you said flatly. “You sure know how to pick your moments, don’t you?”

“I couldn’t hold it in anymore!” he said, throwing his hands up. “You’re always so… so you. And I like that, even if you drive me insane sometimes.”

“Great. So now you’re in love with your biggest critic.”

Jungwon sighed, running both hands through his hair in frustration. “Why do you have to make everything so difficult?”

“Because that’s who I am,” you replied, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “If you wanted easy, you should’ve fallen for someone else.”

“I don’t want someone else,” he said, stepping closer. “I want you. Even when you’re mad at me. Even when you make me feel like I’m the dumbest person alive. I still want you.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his intensity. For once, he wasn’t smiling, and his dimples were nowhere in sight. It was unnerving.

“Look,” you said, finally breaking the silence. “I don’t know what you expect me to say to that. I’m not exactly girlfriend material, Jungwon. I’m… complicated.”

“So what?” he said, his voice softening. “I like complicated.”

You stared at him, trying to find some trace of insincerity in his face. But he was Jungwon-annoyingly earnest, painfully sweet, and completely sincere.

“You’re an idiot,” you said, but there was no real bite to your words.

“Maybe,” he said, his dimples reappearing as his lips curved into a small smile. “But I’m your idiot.”

“Don’t push your luck,” you muttered, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at your lips.

And for the first time that day, the tension in your chest began to ease.

It started as a drizzle during your last lecture of the day. By the time you were shoving your books into your bag and stomping out of the building, the rain had graduated to a steady downpour. Great. Just great. Because, of course, life wasn’t content to leave you with the mess of the group project disaster earlier-it had to soak you to the bone on your way home too.

You pulled your hoodie over your head, muttering curses under your breath as the rain instantly began to seep through the fabric. The sidewalks were slick, puddles forming in every dip and crevice, and the wind cut through your damp clothes like it had a personal vendetta.

As you rounded the corner toward the library to make the miserable walk back to your apartment, you spotted him. Jungwon, standing under the overhang of the library entrance, holding an umbrella that looked far too small for anyone’s actual use.

“Hey!” he called out, waving with his free hand, that familiar grin spreading across his face. Even from a distance, you could see the dimples making their inevitable appearance. He jogged toward you, somehow managing not to slip on the wet pavement.

You groaned inwardly. “What are you doing here?”

“Walking you home,” he said cheerfully, falling into step beside you.

You stopped dead in your tracks, staring at him like he’d just offered to carry you on his back. “Why?”

“Because it’s raining,” he said matter-of-factly, as though that explained everything.

“Wow, thanks for the weather report,” you deadpanned. “But I’m fine. I don’t need an escort.”

“Maybe you don’t,” he said, tilting his head with that infuriatingly bright smile still plastered on his face. “But I do. What if I go home and find out tomorrow that you got struck by lightning or slipped and fell into a storm drain? I’d feel awful.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling your hoodie tighter around you. “I’d feel awful for whoever had to drag me out of the storm drain.”

Jungwon laughed, his dimples deepening. “See? This is why I’m here-to make sure none of that happens. Now, come on.”

He held the umbrella over you, but it barely covered your head and left half of him exposed to the rain. You gave him a withering look. “That thing’s useless.”

“It’s better than nothing,” he said, completely unfazed. “And besides, this way, at least one of us stays kind of dry.”

“Guess which one of us that won’t be,” you muttered, glancing at his soaked sleeve and the rain dripping from his hair.

“I’m fine,” he said breezily, as though he hadn’t just been doused in freezing water. “Come on, let’s go.”

You reluctantly started walking, muttering under your breath about how stupid this all was. The umbrella wasn’t helping much, and within minutes, your jeans were clinging uncomfortably to your legs, and your sneakers squelched with every step.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked after a few minutes of silence, your voice louder than necessary to be heard over the rain.

“Doing what?”

“Walking me home. Getting soaked. Being… you.”

Jungwon shrugged, shifting the umbrella to try (and fail) to cover you both better. “Because I want to. And because it feels right.”

You snorted. “You’re a walking Hallmark card, you know that?”

“Yeah, but I’m your Hallmark card,” he said, flashing you another grin that somehow managed to look just as bright in the rain as it did in the sun.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you grumbled, though your cheeks warmed despite the cold rain.

The walk stretched on, and though you continued to complain about the rain, about your wet clothes, about the puddles that seemed to appear just in time for you to step in them, you couldn’t help but notice how Jungwon didn’t stop smiling. Even when he stumbled into a particularly deep puddle, soaking his shoes completely, he just laughed and shook it off.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, shaking your head as he tried (and failed) to wring out the edge of his sleeve while still holding the umbrella.

“Ridiculously charming?” he offered.

“Ridiculously annoying.”

“Same thing.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a faint smile tugging at your lips that you were pretty sure he didn’t miss.

By the time you reached your apartment, both of you were thoroughly soaked, the umbrella abandoned somewhere along the way after a gust of wind turned it inside out. You paused under the awning of your building, your teeth chattering slightly as you reached into your bag for your keys.

“Well,” Jungwon said, running a hand through his dripping hair. “That was fun, huh?”

“If by ‘fun,’ you mean ‘miserable,’ then sure,” you replied, unlocking the door.

“You’re welcome for the company, by the way,” he said, those dimples making another maddening appearance.

You sighed, leaning against the doorway and giving him an exasperated look. “Why do you keep doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Being… you,” you said, gesturing vaguely at him. “Showing up. Sticking around. Putting up with me.”

“Because I like you,” he said simply, his smile softening but never faltering. “And because even when you’re grumpy and mean and complain about everything, I’d rather be here with you than anywhere else.”

You stared at him for a long moment, unsure how to respond. Finally, you rolled your eyes and stepped inside. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re worth it,” he called after you, that infuriating smile still plastered on his face.

You didn’t slam the door in his face like you probably should have. Instead, you lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching as he turned and jogged back into the rain, his hair already plastered to his forehead.

You sighed, shaking your head as you closed the door behind you. “Idiot,” you muttered, though your lips curved into a small, reluctant smile.

It started with a joke. A stupid joke.

You were sitting under the usual tree in the courtyard, nursing a fresh cup of coffee and enjoying the rare moment of peace. The rain from the other day had cleared, leaving behind that annoyingly perfect, crisp autumn air that made everyone else on campus insufferably cheerful. Naturally, that included Jungwon.

“Good morning!” he chirped, appearing out of nowhere like a golden retriever with boundless energy. He plopped down next to you, entirely uninvited, holding two chocolate croissants in a paper bag.

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

“Breakfast,” he said, handing you one.

You took it begrudgingly. “If this is an apology for the group presentation, I’m not forgiving you.”

“Noted,” he said, biting into his croissant like he hadn’t just made a complete fool of himself in front of your entire class last week. “But no, it’s not an apology. I just figured you’d skip breakfast again, and I couldn’t let you starve.”

You rolled your eyes, but you still took a bite. It was annoyingly good. “What are you, my mom?”

“No,” Jungwon said with a grin, his dimples on full display. “But I am your boyfriend, so…”

You choked on your croissant, coughing loudly as you waved him off. “What?”

He blinked innocently. “You said we were dating, remember?”

You froze, your mind racing back to that stupid, stupid joke you’d made the other day after he’d walked you home in the rain.

“You’re so clingy, we might as well be dating,” you’d said, half-laughing, half-exasperated. At the time, it had felt like a throwaway comment. Something sarcastic, just to mess with him. You hadn’t thought he’d actually believe it.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands. “You seriously took that seriously?”

“Well, yeah,” Jungwon said, his voice light and casual, like this was the most normal conversation in the world. “You said it, so I figured you meant it.”

You stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. “You… thought we were actually dating? Like, for real?”

“Why not?” he said, shrugging as his dimples deepened. “I mean, we spend a lot of time together, you’re always yelling at me like an old married couple, and I do like you, so it just… made sense.”

You were at a complete loss for words. What the hell were you supposed to say to that?

“Jungwon,” you began slowly, trying to keep your tone even. “We’re not actually dating. I was joking.”

“Oh,” he said, his expression faltering slightly. Then, as if on cue, his smile returned, brighter than ever. “Well, we could date for real, if you want.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “I don’t even know what to do with you.”

“Accept my love and devotion?” he offered, leaning back on his hands and grinning at you.

“I didn’t know we were in a relationship,” you teased, smirking as you took another bite of the croissant.

“You didn’t know? Huh. I must’ve forgotten to propose,” he said, his tone laced with faux seriousness.

“Do it now and see how fast I run,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Noted,” he said again, but his dimples stayed put, and his gaze didn’t waver.

That should’ve been the end of it. But, of course, it wasn’t.

Over the next few days, Jungwon leaned way too far into the “boyfriend” joke. He started holding doors open for you everywhere, pulling out chairs in the cafeteria, and even carrying your bag when he saw you struggling under the weight of your books.

“Seriously?” you said one afternoon as he grabbed your bag off your shoulder without so much as a warning. “What are you, my personal porter now?”

“Just being a good boyfriend,” he said cheerfully, slinging the bag over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.

You sighed. “We are not dating.”

“Tell that to your heart,” he teased, earning himself a sharp glare.

The worst part was how unbothered he looked through all of it. Whether you scowled at him, rolled your eyes, or outright told him to stop, Jungwon just smiled back at you, those damn dimples deepening with every interaction.

One day, after class, he even showed up with a coffee in one hand and a small bouquet of flowers in the other.

“What’s this?” you asked, eyeing the flowers like they might attack you.

“Just thought you deserved something nice,” he said, holding them out. “Boyfriend duties, you know?”

You took the flowers begrudgingly, feeling both flattered and incredibly annoyed. “You’re exhausting.”

“And you’re worth it,” he replied without missing a beat.

You hated how warm his words made you feel.

Later that night, as you sat on your bed staring at the flowers in their makeshift vase (a coffee mug you’d forgotten to wash), you found yourself smiling.

You didn’t like birthdays.

It wasn’t that you hated the idea of celebrating a year passing or anything, but it was the attention. The forced smiles, the awkward small talk, the need to pretend to be thrilled when someone handed you a gift you’d never use. It was always a mess of half-forced excitement and too many expectations for something that should’ve just been an ordinary day.

So, naturally, when Jungwon mentioned “surprising you with something special” for your birthday, you’d assumed it was a joke.

“I don’t want anything, really,” you told him, waving off his persistent inquiries. “I’m not big on birthdays.”

“Okay, okay,” he’d said with a grin, his dimples making a rare but welcome appearance. “I won’t go overboard. I promise.”

Of course, you should’ve known better than to trust Jungwon. When does he ever go small?

The day of your birthday, you arrived home from class to find a single text from him: “Be at my place at 7. No excuses!”

You frowned, sitting down on your bed, trying to figure out what this was about. Your first thought was that it might just be dinner. A small hangout with just him, an idea you didn’t entirely mind. After all, he’d become kind of a constant presence in your life, whether you wanted him there or not.

But at 7 p.m., you knocked on Jungwon’s apartment door, your arms crossed defensively and an eyebrow quirked, expecting the usual antics. What you weren’t expecting was the chorus of “SURPRISE!” that greeted you as the door swung open.

Jungwon stood there, his grin wider than ever, dimples shining through with his enthusiasm. Behind him, you could see a group of people-some familiar faces from class, others complete strangers. All of them had birthday hats on, holding drinks or snacks, and looking entirely too cheerful for your liking.

Your stomach dropped.

“Surprise!” Jungwon repeated, practically bouncing on his heels. “I told you it’d be a party!”

“I-” You blinked, caught completely off guard. “What is this? Why is everyone here?”

Jungwon shrugged, still grinning like the sunshine he was. “It’s your birthday! You have to have a party. I couldn’t let you just spend it alone. That’s not how this works.”

You stared at him for a long moment. “I told you I didn’t want anything.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to give you something special,” he said, stepping aside to let you in. “Trust me, I’ll make sure it’s not too much.”

You tried to suppress a groan but failed miserably as you stepped into the apartment, your eyes scanning the crowd of unfamiliar faces. You weren’t sure if you should be annoyed or impressed by how much effort Jungwon had put into this. The streamers were too bright, the music too loud, and the smell of overcooked pizza filled the air. But despite all of that, something about it made you feel… almost warm.

“Okay, fine,” you muttered, more to yourself than anyone else. “I’m here. Happy now?”

“Very happy!” Jungwon said, his smile practically blinding as he led you toward the middle of the room. “I got cake, snacks, and everything you could need to have the best birthday ever. Everyone’s been talking about how excited they are to meet you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Meet me? We’re barely even friends.”

“Well,” Jungwon said, his voice dropping in that teasing way that made you half-annoyed and half-amused, “I think you underestimate how many people want to be around you.”

“Yeah, sure,” you muttered, but your gaze softened when you saw the way he was looking at you. Jungwon was too damn cute, his dimples practically begging you to forgive him for throwing this entire thing together without asking you first.

A few minutes later, after an awkward round of hellos to people you barely knew, you were sitting in the corner with Jungwon, a plate of pizza in your hands and a suspiciously large piece of cake in front of you. You tried to look annoyed, but it was hard with Jungwon sitting next to you, still practically glowing with excitement.

“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind for a birthday,” you admitted, biting into a slice of pizza. “But I guess I can’t be mad when you’re this cute about it.”

He grinned, dimples deepening. “So, you’re saying I’m cute?”

“Ugh, don’t make me say it again,” you muttered, but you were smiling now, despite yourself.

“Deal!” Jungwon said happily, leaning back in his chair. “I’m just glad you’re here. And I know you’re pretending to hate this, but you’re secretly loving it, right?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped out. “I’m not loving it. But it’s… tolerable.”

He let out a dramatic sigh of relief. “Well, that’s all I need to hear.”

As the night went on, Jungwon kept hovering around you, offering to refill your drink, dragging you into random conversations with his friends, and making sure you were never left alone for too long. You could tell he was trying to gauge how you were feeling, how much you were enjoying yourself. And, much to your own frustration, you realized you were actually starting to enjoy it.

You weren’t thrilled about the party itself, but you were warmed by how much effort he’d put in just to make sure you weren’t left to sulk by yourself. Jungwon wasn’t your type, not by a long shot but he was undeniably kind. And somewhere between the laughter and the weirdly bad karaoke (courtesy of some overenthusiastic freshman), you found yourself appreciating him a little more than you’d like to admit.

Later, as the party started winding down, Jungwon pulled you aside. “Hey,” he said quietly, looking almost shy for the first time all night. “I really hope you had a good time. I know this wasn’t exactly what you expected, but I just wanted to make sure your day was special.”

You looked at him, suddenly realizing how genuinely happy he was to see you here, despite all your grumbling. His dimples were in full force, and for a second, you were at a complete loss for words.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, but your voice lacked any real bite.

“Ridiculously charming?” he asked, his tone hopeful.

You rolled your eyes, but your heart wasn’t quite in it. “Sure, whatever. Just… don’t ever do this again without asking first.”

Jungwon smiled, that grin of his practically reaching his ears. “I’ll take it. I’m just glad you’re here, even if it was a surprise.”

You didn’t say anything back. Instead, you just stood there for a moment, letting the warmth of the room-and the inexplicable warmth you felt toward him-sink in.

The night had dragged on forever. The endless clacking of your keyboard felt like a constant drumbeat in the back of your mind, driving you closer to insanity with each passing minute. Jungwon had been sitting across from you in the library for hours now, his presence a mix of distraction and comfort as you both struggled through the assignment that loomed over you.

“Can you stop tapping your pen?” you finally snapped, glaring over the top of your laptop. “I swear you’ve been doing that for the last fifteen minutes.”

Jungwon blinked at you innocently. “Sorry! Just thinking.” He immediately stopped the pen tapping, but you could tell from the way he was looking at you that he was far from focused on the assignment.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “We’re never going to finish this if you keep making weird noises.”

“Sorry, I’m trying.” He grinned, his dimples deepening with the smile. It was almost impossible to stay mad at him when he looked like that, but you weren’t about to tell him that.

The clock ticked on, and the library started to empty. One by one, students packed up their things and left, leaving you and Jungwon alone in the quiet, dimly lit room. The only sounds now were the occasional rustle of paper and the quiet hum of the air conditioning.

You glanced at the clock. It was nearly 3 AM. You had barely written a full page. Your eyes were starting to blur from exhaustion, and the task at hand felt like an insurmountable mountain.

“Want to take a break?” Jungwon asked, his voice unusually soft.

You shot him a look, a mixture of disbelief and irritation. “We can’t take a break. We’re so far behind.”

“I know, I know,” he said with a sigh, leaning back in his chair. “But I’m starting to think that this assignment was created just to make us miserable. There’s no way it’s this difficult for everyone else.”

“It’s definitely designed to crush our spirits,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair. “And I’m pretty sure you’re part of the problem.”

“Hey!” He laughed, but it was a little strained, his usual cheerfulness slipping just slightly. “I’m just trying to keep you company, that’s all.”

You groaned, turning back to your laptop. “Company? That’s what we’re calling it now?”

“Yep,” Jungwon said, his tone suddenly more serious. The shift was subtle, but it caught your attention. “I’m really glad you’re here, actually. I know you don’t think so, but I enjoy spending time with you, even when you’re yelling at me about my pen tapping.”

You snorted. “Yell at you? Please. I’m just trying to stay sane.”

“I don’t mind it,” he said quietly. “Really.”

You paused, finally looking up from your screen, meeting his gaze. His smile was gone, replaced with that look of earnestness that you rarely saw from him. Jungwon was usually so full of energy, always joking around, always so bright. But right now, the dimples weren’t enough to mask the vulnerability in his eyes.

“What?” you asked, voice much softer now, a little suspicious.

“I… I like you,” Jungwon said, his words coming out faster than he probably intended. “Like, a lot. I’ve liked you for a while now. And I don’t think I can just keep it to myself anymore.”

Your breath caught in your throat. This was so typical of him-so sudden, so earnest, with no warning at all. But the way he was looking at you made it hard to ignore. You had to admit, somewhere deep down, you did like him too, but the idea of admitting it out loud… that felt like a huge leap.

“So… you’ve been pining for me in the background this whole time?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light despite the sudden knot in your stomach.

“Yeah,” he said, almost shy now, his dimples barely visible. “Pretty much.”

You stared at him for a long time, trying to figure out if this was some weird joke or if he was actually serious. But there was no way he could be joking-his expression said everything. He wasn’t playing around. He really liked you.

And, for some reason, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to laugh it off.

You sighed heavily, running a hand through your hair again. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

Jungwon’s face fell just a little, as though he wasn’t sure whether to take you seriously or not. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you can’t just… say things like that and expect me to just… go along with it.” You paused, glancing down at your screen, avoiding his eyes. “It’s not that simple, Jungwon.”

“I know,” he said softly, his voice full of understanding. “I just thought maybe I should tell you. Because I really do like you. I can’t help it.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, gathering your thoughts, before finally speaking again. “Fine,” you muttered, voice almost too quiet for him to hear. “I guess I like you too.”

Jungwon blinked, surprised, as though he hadn’t expected that at all. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” you said, offering him a small, reluctant smile. “I guess I do. But don’t get any ideas. You’re still annoying as hell.”

Jungwon let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, his dimples showing again, though this time there was a warmth in his expression that you couldn’t quite ignore. “Well, I’m glad to hear that, even if you won’t admit you like me.”

You shook your head, suddenly feeling too self-aware under his gaze. “I did admit it. You just don’t get to be all smug about it.”

“I wasn’t smug, just… relieved,” he said, his tone soft but still that familiar mix of excitement and hopefulness. “I thought you’d tell me I was crazy or something.”

You snorted. “You are crazy, but… I guess I can deal with it. For now.”

Jungwon smiled again, the tension from before evaporating as he shifted back into his usual chipper mood. “Well, I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to be here through all your grumbling and complaining.”

“Lucky me,” you muttered, though you found yourself feeling oddly content with his answer.

And maybe, just maybe, you liked it that way.

It was supposed to be a quiet escape.

The two of you had been suffocating under the weight of endless assignments, overbearing professors, and a class that was about as exciting as watching paint dry. So, naturally, you came to the brilliant conclusion that skipping class was the only reasonable solution. It wasn’t like you wanted to fail or anything, but you really, really needed a break.

Jungwon, of course, was all in. He was always ready for an adventure, especially one that didn’t involve textbooks or note-taking.

“I’m telling you, it’s the perfect plan,” you said, half whispering as you two crept out of the building. “We just go grab coffee, chill for a couple of hours, and act like today never happened.”

Jungwon grinned, his dimples making a rare but welcome appearance. “I’m with you. Let’s live on the edge. We deserve it.”

You exchanged a glance, both of you grinning like a couple of troublemakers about to commit the greatest heist known to mankind.

But, of course, the universe had other plans.

As you rounded the corner, heading toward the exit of the building, you heard the unmistakable sound of someone’s footsteps behind you. The voice that followed immediately made your heart sink.

“Jungwon. Y/N.”

It was Professor Lee.

You froze in place, slowly turning to face him, and saw Jungwon’s face go pale as he immediately began to stammer out an apology. “Professor, uh, we… we just… need a little… break, y’know?”

You barely had time to catch your breath before Professor Lee’s stern gaze fell on you both. He raised an eyebrow, then sighed dramatically. “And where exactly do you think you’re going?”

Jungwon’s eyes widened, and you could see him mentally scrambling for some kind of excuse. “Just… just getting some fresh air. Right, Y/N?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re dragging me down with you, aren’t you?”

Jungwon, ever the optimist, gave you a sheepish grin. “I’m just offering a chance for you to be spontaneous.”

Professor Lee’s glare was sharp, and you could practically see the disappointment radiating off of him. “The two of you need to get back to class. Now.”

And that’s when everything went downhill.

In a move that could only be described as a perfectly timed tragedy, Professor Lee reached out and grabbed Jungwon by the arm, pulling him toward the door. Jungwon stumbled slightly, looking back at you with wide eyes as though you were his only hope of escape.

You stood there, frozen, watching him being dragged away like a criminal. Jungwon’s eyes locked with yours, a look of mock betrayal on his face, his dimples on full display. “You left me!” he cried out dramatically, even as he was being dragged down the hallway. “I thought we were a team!”

You couldn’t help it. The laughter bubbled up from deep inside you, and before you knew it, you were laughing so hard you could barely breathe. The scene was just too absurd. There was Jungwon-usually the one getting people to laugh, but right now, looking like a puppy who’d been abandoned in the rain.

Professor Lee wasn’t amused. “This is not funny, Y/N. Get back to class.”

You waved a hand dismissively, still chuckling as Jungwon shot you a glare over his shoulder. “You’re cruel,” he muttered. “I thought we had something special.”

“That’s what you get for trying to skip class with me,” you replied, still grinning. “You’re lucky I didn’t bail on you sooner.”

“Traitor,” Jungwon said, though there was no malice in his voice. He looked at you one more time, and you could see the hint of a smile fighting its way to his lips despite the whole situation.

Finally, after what felt like a dramatic eternity, Professor Lee gave you both a final, disapproving look and gestured for you to follow him. You gave Jungwon one last playful grin as you walked back toward class, his mock expression of betrayal fading into a reluctant smile.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he muttered, clearly still a little embarrassed. “I really thought we had a chance at freedom.”

“You’re an idiot,” you said, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “But you’ve got those cute dimples, so I guess I’ll forgive you.”

“You’re just saying that because you left me to face the wrath of Professor Lee alone,” he said, his tone light but with a hint of playful irritation.

“Sure,” you agreed, “but it’s still true.”

Jungwon sighed dramatically as you both entered the classroom, the door closing behind you. “I’m never skipping class with you again.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Says the guy who begged me to do it in the first place.”

He shot you a sideways glance, a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “Fine. But if we’re skipping again, I’m leading the charge.”

You rolled your eyes. “Only if you promise not to get caught next time.”

Jungwon just winked. “I make no promises.”

You chuckled, the warmth of his smile lingering in the air. You’d never admit it to him, but in that moment, even the ridiculousness of the situation made you feel just a little bit more… alive.

You didn’t want to go. Honestly, you didn’t. But when your friends practically begged you to go on a double date with them-“Just for fun! You need to get out more!”-you couldn’t find a way to decline without looking like a total buzzkill.

So, naturally, you decided to bring Jungwon.

You didn’t really think he would take it seriously. You never did when it came to anything involving you and Jungwon. Sure, he was full of smiles and charm, but you always assumed it was just his way of making life a little less boring. So when you casually mentioned that you were “bringing someone along” for the date, you thought it was obvious that it was a joke.

But Jungwon, being Jungwon, took it way too literally.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he said, his eyes practically glowing with excitement when you told him about the double date. “You want me to come with you? For real?”

You stared at him, a little taken aback. “Yeah, I mean, if you’re up for it.” You paused, trying to suppress a grin. “It’s a joke though, Jungwon. Just to mess with them.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “So, like, you want me to pretend to be your date, or are we actually going on a date?”

You leaned back in your chair, trying to figure out how to explain it to him without overcomplicating things. “I’m not going to pretend, but-”

Jungwon’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “I’m in! This is going to be so fun!”

You stared at him, blinking in disbelief. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“Yes!” He practically bounced in his seat. “I’ve never been on a double date before. This is going to be awesome. I promise I won’t embarrass you. Well, I mean, I might, but only in the best way!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm. There was no stopping him now, though, so you just rolled with it.

The night of the double date arrived, and you were already regretting everything. The restaurant was nice enough-fancy, even but you felt out of place, sitting there with your friends, nervously picking at your food. Jungwon, on the other hand, looked like he was having the time of his life. His dimples were on full display as he grinned like a kid in a candy store.

“Okay, okay,” Jungwon said. “This is a real date, huh? So, what do we do? Do I hold your hand now?” He was clearly teasing, but his excitement made it impossible to tell if he was joking or not.

You shot him a flat look. “Don’t even think about it. I’m already regretting this.”

He winked at you, unfazed. “Too late. We’re in it now!”

Meanwhile, your friends were watching the two of you with wide eyes, clearly impressed by Jungwon’s apparent enthusiasm. They were under the assumption that you and he were actually dating, and that made the situation even funnier.

“You two are so cute together,” one of your friends, Mia, said, clearly trying to be supportive. “You should do this more often!”

You shot her a glare. “I’m not dating him. This is a joke. A joke that’s getting way out of hand.”

Jungwon, oblivious to your discomfort, smiled even wider. “Yeah, but I mean, if we were dating, I’d totally get you dessert. I’d get you all the desserts.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so ridiculous. Please don’t say that out loud.”

Jungwon just laughed, seemingly unfazed by your embarrassment. “But seriously, though, what’s your favorite dessert? I need to know for future reference.”

“Don’t you dare,” you warned, but he just looked at you like you were the cutest thing in the world, his dimples practically making a debut of their own.

Your friends, sensing that you weren’t taking this seriously enough, decided to take it one step further. They started making suggestions about how the date could go. “Why don’t you two take a cute picture together?” Mia suggested. “You know, for instagram?’”

You groaned, resting your head on the table. “This is a disaster.”

But Jungwon, being Jungwon, took this opportunity to pose dramatically, as if he was some kind of romance movie hero. “You want a picture? I’m your guy,” he said with a wink. “Smile, Y/N.”

You sighed but, much to your dismay, gave in. You weren’t going to ruin his fun, even though the whole thing was spiraling into madness.

When the waiter arrived to take the picture, Jungwon grabbed your hand out of nowhere and pulled you close, his dimples deepening as he beamed at the camera. You froze, unsure of how to react, but then-bam-the flash went off, and you were left blinking at the photo of you and Jungwon looking like an actual couple.

“You have to send that to me later,” your friend Mia said, completely unaware of your inner turmoil. “You two look so cute!”

Jungwon, on the other hand, was absolutely thrilled. “I told you we were a perfect match!”

The rest of the night was a blur of awkwardness and laughter. Every time you tried to steer the conversation away from the whole “fake date” scenario, Jungwon would burst in with his pure, unfiltered energy, saying something so ridiculous it made you laugh despite yourself.

At one point, he even tried to impress everyone by ordering an entire dessert platter, dramatically pushing it toward you. “For my date,” he said, his voice so sincere that it made everyone at the table pause. “I’m only doing this because you deserve it.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I try,” he said with a grin. 

The night ended with the two of you standing outside the restaurant, your friends still holding onto the illusion that you and Jungwon were an actual couple, while you both shared an awkward but genuine laugh about the chaos that had just unfolded.

“Well,” Jungwon said with a shrug, his voice full of playful sincerity, “if this was a real date, I’d say it went pretty well.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, trying not to laugh too loudly. “Except for the part where you were way too excited and we ended up eating like, five desserts.”

He grinned. “But hey, it was worth it. I made it fun, didn’t I?”

You couldn’t deny that. Jungwon’s energy had turned what could have been an awkward, uncomfortable night into something that was, well, bearable-even enjoyable.

“Fine,” you muttered, “I’ll give you that. You made it way better than it had any right to be.”

Jungwon’s grin widened. “That’s all I aim for.”

And as you walked away from the restaurant, you found yourself secretly grateful for his relentless positivity. 

It was an assignment from hell.

That’s how you’d been feeling about your latest project from the very moment it was announced in class. Another group project, another excuse for you to do all the work while your partners barely lifted a finger. You were already bracing for the usual frustration, the annoyance, the feeling that you could’ve done this better on your own.

And then, of course, you found out who your partner was.

Jungwon.

You groaned inwardly. If you weren’t already annoyed about the project, the thought of being paired with Jungwon was almost enough to make you throw in the towel. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him-he was fine, you guessed-but he was a whirlwind of energy and positivity, which was the exact opposite of what you needed. You were going to need every ounce of your patience to get through this.

When you met him at the library to start working on the project, Jungwon was already sitting at a table.

“Y/N! You ready to crush this?” he greeted you, practically jumping up to pull out a chair for you.

You set your stuff down, giving him a tired look. “You know this is a project, right? Not a ‘let’s have fun’ time?”

He tilted his head, the cheer in his eyes not fading one bit. “Yeah, I know! But we can have fun while we work, right?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m optimistic, not impossible,” he corrected with that trademark grin of his.

You resisted the urge to laugh at his ridiculousness. Why do you have to be so damn charming?

“Okay, so… what’s the plan?” you asked, trying to get the project underway, determined not to let Jungwon’s energy throw you off course.

Jungwon immediately opened his laptop and started listing ideas, his enthusiasm palpable as he rattled off suggestions. Normally, you’d be irritated by someone who couldn’t focus, who got distracted every few minutes, but for some reason, today felt different.

Maybe it was the way Jungwon’s excitement was contagious, or maybe it was because you’d been so stressed with school that his carefree attitude felt like a breath of fresh air. Whatever it was, you found yourself actually getting into the project.

“We could do this… or maybe add this idea? I think it could work, right?” Jungwon said, his voice bright with hope as he gestured at the screen.

You glanced at his work, surprised to see it was actually pretty decent. He wasn’t slacking off like you’d expected.

You nodded, genuinely impressed. “Not bad. Actually, I think that would work well.”

“Really?” Jungwon beamed, his dimples flashing. “I knew it! I knew you’d think it was a good idea!”

You tried to hide your smile, but you couldn’t help it. His enthusiasm was infectious, and despite your initial hesitation, you were starting to enjoy yourself. The work flowed smoothly, and for once, you didn’t feel like you were carrying the whole weight of the project on your shoulders.

There was something oddly comforting about working with Jungwon. His presence, though relentlessly cheerful, didn’t feel as grating as it usually did. In fact, it was kind of… nice. You found yourself laughing at his jokes, even when they were awful, and feeling oddly grateful that he was by your side, keeping things light when they could have easily turned stressful.

By the time you reached the end of the day, you realized you’d spent hours working with him, but it hadn’t felt like work at all. The project was done, the ideas were all sorted out, and you were left with a feeling you hadn’t expected: satisfaction.

“Well, that was… actually fun,” you admitted, feeling a little surprised at how well the day had gone. “I didn’t think we’d get through this without killing each other, but we did.”

Jungwon laughed, the sound bright and genuine. “Of course we did! We make a great team. See? I told you, you just have to trust my process!”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Your ‘process’? Is that what you’re calling it?”

He winked. “You don’t like it? I think it’s pretty effective.”

You shook your head, though you couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. You hadn’t thought it was possible, but after spending the whole day working together, you couldn’t help but feel… something.

Something warm. Something that was definitely more than just friendship.

You were starting to realize that the attraction you had towards Jungwon wasn’t just a passing thing. It wasn’t just his smiles or his dimples that were making your heart do flips. It was the way he made everything feel lighter, the way he made you feel like maybe, just maybe, things didn’t have to be so serious all the time.

And you couldn’t ignore the feeling that the more time you spent with him, the more that attraction grew.

“I guess you’re not so bad after all,” you said, pushing away from the table.

Jungwon’s eyes lit up, and his grin grew impossibly wider.

He laughed, the sound easy and carefree. “See? I knew we’d get along.”

As you packed up your things, you found yourself glancing over at Jungwon, trying to figure out what had changed. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but you knew something was different. Maybe it was the way he made everything feel easier. Or maybe it was the way he smiled at you, those dimples softening the edges of your usual grumpy mood.

Whatever it was, you were starting to realize that your feelings for him were changing. Slowly, but surely. And as much as you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t ignore the way your heart skipped a beat every time he flashed that irresistible smile.

“See you later, Y/N,” Jungwon said as he slung his bag over his shoulder, his eyes glinting with that familiar energy. “Next time, we can take over the world together.”

You snorted, trying not to grin. “We’ll see, Jungwon. We’ll see.”

But as you walked out of the library, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, your world was already starting to change in ways you didn’t expect.

And maybe it had something to do with a certain cheerful, dimply guy you’d been paired with.

It was a quiet day, the kind where you’re just trying to survive the hours before the weekend. You had spent most of the morning in a half-daze, taking notes during class, trying to push through the pile of assignments you’d been avoiding.

Jungwon had been his usual cheerful self, cracking jokes during every lull in the lecture. You, of course, had rolled your eyes, but even you had to admit that there was something almost comforting about his constant, unrelenting positivity.

But today, something was off.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it at first. You were sitting at the back of the lecture hall, arms folded, half-listening to the professor drone on about whatever boring topic they’d decided to assign this week. And then you saw it.

Jungwon was talking to one of your classmates, someone you didn’t know too well-Soojin, a girl who was always a little too bubbly, even for your taste. She was leaning in close to him, laughing at something he said. You could hear her high-pitched laugh from where you were sitting, and for some reason, it grated on you more than usual.

You watched as Jungwon, completely unaware of the growing discomfort in your chest, flashed her one of his bright, perfect smiles. The kind of smile that always made you weak in the knees. The kind of smile he’d given you countless times, only now, it was directed at her.

You clenched your fists under the desk, trying to ignore the sensation of something off. It wasn’t jealousy. No, absolutely not. Why would you care if Jungwon was talking to someone else? He was friendly with everyone, and it was totally normal. You were just being ridiculous.

But still…

You couldn’t focus on the lecture. Your mind kept wandering back to the sight of Jungwon leaning closer to Soojin, laughing and smiling like he always did with you. But this time, something about it felt different. You weren’t used to seeing him so at ease with someone else.

It was irrational. It wasn’t like you had any claim on him, after all. But still, the feeling gnawed at you.

Finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of class. You grabbed your stuff, not making eye contact with either Jungwon or Soojin, and headed for the door. You could hear Jungwon calling your name from behind, but you didn’t stop. You needed a second to breathe, to shake off the weirdness that had started to settle in your chest.

“Hey, wait up!” Jungwon caught up to you in the hallway, looking as cheerful as always, though there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes. “What’s up? You okay?”

You shrugged, pretending to be too focused on checking your phone to look at him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. You know, class stuff.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. He paused for a second, and then, as if he’d caught onto something, he smirked. “You know, I saw you in class. You seemed a little… off.” He leaned closer, his eyes glinting with mischievous energy. “Are you jealous?”

Your heart skipped. What?

You shot him a glare, your face turning a little hotter than you would’ve liked. “Shut up,” you muttered, walking a little faster, trying to escape the awkwardness you were suddenly drowning in.

Jungwon’s grin widened, and you could hear his footsteps quickening to match yours. “Come on, admit it. I saw the way you were looking at Soojin. Don’t try to hide it.”

“I said shut up,” you repeated, feeling like your face might combust from the heat. Why was this so hard to talk about? It was ridiculous. It’s not jealousy, you told yourself, it’s just… annoyance.

But Jungwon wasn’t letting it go. “You know, if you are jealous, it’s totally fine,” he said, his voice light but with a teasing undertone. “It just means you care. And I mean, who wouldn’t care about this?” He motioned to himself dramatically, grinning like a total dork. “Look at me. Hard to resist, right?”

You couldn’t help but snort, despite the awkward tension in the air. “You’re such an idiot.”

Jungwon laughed, clearly pleased that he had managed to get under your skin, even if it was just a little. “I’m serious, though. If you’re jealous, you should just tell me. No shame in it.”

“Jungwon,” you said in a low, flat voice, looking at him with a deadpan stare. “I’m not jealous. At all.”

He tilted his head, his dimples popping as he smiled at you. “Okay, okay. If you say so. But I’ll make it easy for you: I’m not interested in Soojin, alright? You’re my favorite person, and I like hanging out with you.”

You tried to suppress the weird feeling that fluttered in your stomach at his words. You could have sworn you felt the slightest bit of relief, but you weren’t going to admit that. You refused to.

“Good,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. “Just don’t get all buddy-buddy with her too much. We have a project to work on, remember?”

Jungwon raised his hands in mock surrender. “Of course! But hey, if you’re still worried, you can always just spend more time with me. I’ll make it up to you.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain your usual grumpy exterior, but deep down, you felt a flutter of warmth at the thought of him wanting to spend more time with you. “You’re impossible.”

“You know it,” he said with a wink, his dimples deepening in that infuriatingly cute way. “But you like me anyway, right?”

You shot him an exasperated look but said nothing. You didn’t trust your voice not to betray you. So instead, you just kept walking, silently acknowledging the strange, messy tangle of feelings that were starting to form in your chest.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d admit to yourself later that you didn’t mind being a little possessive over someone who had become far more important to you than you were willing to admit.

It started off as one of those perfectly ordinary days. The kind that drags on but doesn’t feel too bad. You’d woken up late-thanks to your terrible habit of hitting snooze about five times too many-and had rushed to class, not even bothering with breakfast. As usual, you were already mentally prepared to be irritated by the day’s trivialities.

But there was one thing that made today just a little less unbearable.

Jungwon.

You weren’t sure when it had started, but lately, you’d noticed something odd happening whenever he was around. The way his dimples appeared every time he smiled, the way his easy laughter seemed to cut through your grumpiness, and how you-for some strange reason-had started to smile back.

It was subtle at first. A little half-smile when he cracked a stupid joke, a slight curve of your lips when he mimicked something you’d said with that playful glint in his eye. It was all very unremarkable, except for the fact that you were smiling at all.

But today? Today, you caught yourself smiling for real.

You were both standing outside campus, Jungwon had been talking-about some new movie he wanted to see-and you were half-listening.

The next thing you knew, you were laughing at something he said. 

It wasn’t the usual forced, sarcastic laugh you gave him. No, this time, it was a genuine chuckle.

And then you realized something.

You’d smiled. Actually smiled. At something he’d said. Not because it was funny in a sarcastic way or because you were humoring him. No, you’d smiled because for the first time in a while, something he said made you feel… happy.

You didn’t want to think about it too hard, but your chest felt weird. That fluttery, stupid feeling you tried so hard to avoid.

Jungwon noticed, of course. He always did. He had this ridiculous ability to pick up on the smallest things about you-things you hadn’t even noticed about yourself.

“You smiled,” he said, eyes wide with mock surprise.

You immediately tried to cover it up, shifting uncomfortably. “I didn’t,” you muttered. “You’re imagining things.”

“Nope,” Jungwon replied with that teasing grin of his, his dimples deepening. “I saw it. I think… I think you actually like me.”

You froze for a second. That ridiculous fluttering feeling flared up again, and you immediately started to feel the heat rise in your cheeks. “What are you talking about?” you snapped, trying to play it cool. But your heart was beating a little faster than normal, and you could practically feel the awkwardness rising between you two.

“You know, like-like like me,” Jungwon pressed, his eyes glinting with mischievous light. “You’re all smiley when I’m around. Don’t worry, it’s totally fine. I won’t bite.”

You felt like you were dying a little inside. “I don’t like you. At all.”

It wasn’t that you were lying, exactly. But, well… maybe you were lying just a little. Or at least stretching the truth.

Jungwon leaned against the wall next to you, completely unfazed by your obvious discomfort. “You sure about that? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure I saw you smile again just now.” He gave you a cheeky look, clearly enjoying your obvious inner turmoil.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’re insufferable.”

He laughed, and it was like music to your ears. “That’s what I like about you, though,” he teased, his voice full of that energy that never seemed to run out. “You’re so grumpy, but I know you secretly like me.”

“God, you’re impossible,” you muttered, trying to mask the way your heart was speeding up.

Jungwon was watching you closely, his grin widening as he studied your flushed face. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop. But it’s cute, you know? You don’t have to hide it.”

You were silent for a moment, avoiding his gaze, suddenly very aware of how close he was standing to you. Your mind was racing, trying to figure out what to say, but the words just wouldn’t come out. You weren’t supposed to like him, you told yourself, especially not like this.

But somehow, you couldn’t keep it up. Not anymore.

“Fine,” you finally muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I think I might actually like you.”

Jungwon blinked at you for a moment, clearly surprised. Then, he broke into a wide grin, dimples on full display.

“See?” he said with mock triumph. “I knew it!”

You let out a strangled laugh. “Shut up, Jungwon. I hate you.”

He just grinned even wider, if that was possible. “Sure, you do. But you’re smiling, so I know you don’t.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to look anywhere but at him. “You’re really something, you know that?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his voice softening slightly. “I think you’re pretty great, too.”

And for a moment, the teasing stopped. The air between you two shifted just a little bit, and you suddenly felt… nervous. But you didn’t want to deal with that right now. You weren’t ready to think about it.

Instead, you muttered under your breath, “You’re lucky I like you too, you dork.”

Jungwon’s eyes softened, his smile turning genuinely warm. “I’m not so lucky. I’m just glad I finally got you to admit it.”

You didn’t say anything else. You didn’t need to. Because, somehow, it felt like everything had just changed. And you weren’t sure where this was going, but for the first time in a long time, you didn’t really mind.

You hadn’t been feeling great all day, but you didn’t think much of it. Just a little headache, a scratchy throat, maybe a bit of fatigue. You’d been pushing through it because, well, what else was new? You didn’t have time to get sick. There were assignments piling up, friends texting you about plans, and the general chaos that came with university life.

But by the time the evening hit, you were definitely regretting that stubborn “I’m fine” attitude. Your head was pounding, your nose was stuffy, and you could barely keep your eyes open. You’d barely managed to crawl into bed, curled up under the covers, and tried to ignore the fact that you were now a full-fledged mess of sniffles and fatigue.

But of course, that was when you heard someone knock on the door.

You groaned into your pillow, annoyed at the thought of anyone bothering you right now. It was probably just one of your roommates, or someone looking to “check in.”

You’d been a little less friendly with your friends recently, not out of any real malice, but more because you weren’t exactly in the mood for company. You’re fine, you told yourself. No one needs to see you like this.

You’d barely made it to the door before you heard a familiar, cheerful voice call your name.

“Hey! You home?”

You blinked a few times, trying to clear your blurry vision. Of course it was Jungwon. Who else would it be?

You reluctantly opened the door, rubbing your face, feeling a mix of annoyance and exhaustion. Jungwon stood there, holding a plastic bag in one hand, looking a little too bright and sunny for the current situation.  

You leaned against the doorframe, glaring at him. “What do you want, Jungwon? It’s like… seven o’clock. Why are you here?”

“I came to take care of you,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You look like you’re dying, so I thought I’d help out.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m fine,” you muttered, even though your voice was hoarse. “I just need some sleep. You should go back to whatever you were doing.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow at you, clearly not buying it. He pushed past you into the apartment, walking straight toward the kitchen without waiting for an invitation.

“Nope,” he said, turning around with that annoying grin still plastered on his face. “I’m staying. You need soup, medicine, and someone to make sure you don’t turn into a zombie.” He pulled a container of soup out of the bag. “I brought chicken noodle, your favorite. And medicine!” He waved the little bottles in the air like some kind of triumphant hero. “I’m basically a professional nurse now, so don’t worry. I’ve got it all covered.”

You gave him a flat stare, but despite the irritation bubbling in your chest, there was an odd warmth at the edges of your annoyance. You were so not in the mood to deal with this right now, but part of you couldn’t deny the fact that Jungwon being here, in his usual sunshine-y way, was actually kind of nice.

You sighed. “You really don’t have to do this. I can take care of myself.”

Jungwon just smiled wider, like that was exactly what he’d expected you to say. He plopped down on the couch and kicked his shoes off, as if he’d settled in for the long haul.

“I’m not leaving you to suffer alone,” he said casually, opening the soup. “Besides, I’m probably the only person who would be willing to come over and make you feel better, right?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but then stopped. He wasn’t wrong. Everyone else in your life would’ve probably texted you a “get well soon” message and gone on with their day. But Jungwon… well, he was different. He cared in a way that, despite your annoyance, you couldn’t quite push away.

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, leaning back against the doorframe and crossing your arms.

Jungwon just laughed and pulled a spoon out of his bag. “You say that now, but wait until you taste my world-famous chicken noodle soup.”

“You didn’t make it,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Did you just pick that up from the convenience store?”

“I may have,” he said, not at all ashamed. “But I promise it’s still delicious. It’s the thought that counts, right?”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, you let him serve you a bowl of soup, setting it down on the coffee table in front of you.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, watching him sit down beside you, eyes sparkling with pride.

“I’m just doing what any decent human would do.” Jungwon replied with a shrug.

You couldn’t help but chuckle despite yourself. “A decent human would’ve let me be, though. Not show up with soup and medicine and insist on taking care of me.”

Jungwon tilted his head, the dimples appearing as his smile softened. “Well, if I’m being honest… I kind of like taking care of you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in his voice, but you immediately masked it with a scoff. “You’re such a weirdo.”

Jungwon just shrugged again, looking entirely unbothered by your sarcasm. “Maybe. But you like me anyway.”

You didn’t respond immediately, not trusting yourself to say anything that wouldn’t sound too revealing. Instead, you took a spoonful of the soup, secretly enjoying how warm and comforting it felt-both the soup and the unexpected care.

“You’re lucky I’m sick, or I’d be kicking you out right now,” you grumbled, trying to sound more irritated than you actually felt.

Jungwon grinned. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But you’re not kicking me out. I’m your personal nurse now. I’m here to stay until you feel better.”

You sighed but didn’t argue. The truth was, part of you secretly appreciated it-the fact that Jungwon cared enough to show up like this, no matter how annoying he could be.

“I’m still mad at you for this,” you muttered under your breath, taking another bite of soup.

Jungwon just grinned and leaned back on the couch, clearly pleased with himself. “Sure, keep pretending you’re mad. I know the truth.”

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between you two. You didn’t want to admit it, but there was something oddly soothing about having him here. His presence,, his warmth… it made you feel less alone in this miserable state.

And even though you’d never admit it to his face, you were kind of glad he’d shown up.

It was late. Later than you’d normally stay out, but there was something about the night air that made everything feel a little more bearable. The kind of crisp, cool air that wrapped itself around you like a blanket, making the world seem quieter, softer. The city lights blurred in the distance, but here, on the side streets, everything felt peaceful.

You and Jungwon had been walking for a while now, your footsteps the only sound breaking the silence. It was almost funny-this whole thing. A walk at night, no real reason for it, just the two of you strolling through the empty streets, talking about everything and nothing.

The weird part? You didn’t mind. It wasn’t weird to have him beside you. It wasn’t weird to share the kind of silence that felt comfortable, not awkward.

Jungwon was talking about his dreams-what he wanted to do after university, how he imagined his future-and you listened, like you always did, half-paying attention while still being invested. You couldn’t help but smile a little when he talked about things he was passionate about. His excitement was infectious, even if you weren’t always as enthusiastic as he was.

“I think… I think I’d want to work with kids,” he said, his voice steady but a little shy, like he wasn’t sure if it was a stupid dream to have. “Or maybe something with education. I don’t know, just something where I can make a difference.” He looked at you, his eyes wide with that familiar innocence. “I know it sounds cliché, but I want to help.”

You nodded, your heart feeling a little lighter. “You’re not wrong,” you said, a small smirk on your lips. “It sounds like a good dream.”

Jungwon chuckled, glancing at you. “I know it’s cheesy, but hey, if I’m going to do something, I want it to matter. I want it to mean something.”

You glanced up at the stars, feeling a strange sense of calm. The night felt endless, like it could go on forever, and for a moment, you didn’t mind the thought of being out here with him. Just the two of you. No pressure, no expectations.

“You know,” you said, your voice softer than usual, “I get it. I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to do too. Sometimes it’s hard to figure it out, though, right?”

Jungwon nodded, but there was a quiet, almost unsure look in his eyes as he glanced at you. “Yeah, I know. It’s scary, thinking about the future. But…” He trailed off, taking a breath before continuing, “I think I’m starting to realize that maybe I’ve known what I want for a while now. It’s just… I didn’t want to admit it.”

You raised an eyebrow, looking at him. “What’s that?”

He paused, then took a few steps closer, his eyes locking onto yours, a quiet seriousness taking over his expression. “I know it’s kind of unexpected, but I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. And… well, I think I’ve been in love with you for a while.”

You stopped walking, your chest tightening, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you. Your heart skipped a beat, and you found yourself staring at him in complete silence. Jungwon’s expression was vulnerable, his usual teasing smile gone, replaced with something real. Something genuine.

You should’ve said something. You should’ve joked, laughed it off, but the truth was, the words didn’t sound as surprising as they should have. Because somewhere deep down, you already knew. You’d known for a while now, hadn’t you?

Your heart pounded in your chest, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The silence stretched between you two, thick and fragile, like the world was holding its breath.

And then you took a step closer, closing the distance between you two. You didn’t know why, but something about the way he looked at you made it impossible not to.

“Jungwon,” you said, voice barely above a whisper, “I… I think I love you too.”

His eyes widened slightly, as if he hadn’t expected that, but then that familiar, dazzling smile spread across his face. The dimples appeared, and your heart seemed to beat faster just at the sight of them.

“You-really?” His voice was full of disbelief, but there was a warmth there, a joy you could feel radiating from him.

You nodded slowly, a small, shy smile forming on your lips. “Yeah. Really. I told you already.”

And then, before you could overthink it, before you could question everything, Jungwon stepped forward, his hand brushing against yours. It felt like time slowed down as you both closed the space between you, and suddenly, it was just the two of you under the night sky, with no more words needed.

He leaned in first, just slightly, as if waiting for you to pull away, but you didn’t. Instead, you closed your eyes and let him. The kiss was soft at first-tentative, like he wasn’t sure if it was okay. But then something in both of you clicked. It deepened, slowly but with the kind of intensity you hadn’t expected. His lips were warm, gentle, and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself completely give in to the moment.

When you pulled away, you didn’t know how to react. Your heart was still racing, and Jungwon was standing there, looking at you like he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

“You kissed me,” he said, his voice almost breathless.

You gave him a playful, teasing smile. “Yeah, I did.” You leaned in, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “You should probably return the favor.”

Jungwon didn’t need to be told twice. His lips found yours again, and this time, there was no hesitation. No distance between you two. It was messy and real and, honestly, a little bit cheesy. But in that moment, it was everything.

And when you finally pulled away, you both stood there, grinning like idiots in the middle of the night, the weight of everything unspoken suddenly feeling like it had all fallen into place.

“You really are the worst,” you muttered, your voice still a little shaky from the kiss, but your smile genuine.

Jungwon laughed, his dimples deepening, his eyes full of something new. “I know. But I think you like it.”

You didn’t answer, but the truth was, you did. You really did.

It was one of those rare moments where everything just fell into place.

The day had been long-filled with classes, assignments, and the usual chaos that came with being a university student-but now, as the evening crept in and the air grew cooler, everything around you seemed to settle. You and Jungwon had retreated to your favorite spot on campus, a little bench under a large tree near the library, far enough from the usual student hustle to give you both some peace.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving a soft golden light that made everything look a little more serene. Jungwon had his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, his usual smile softened, and there was a comfortable silence between the two of you. It was the kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled with words, but somehow still felt full.

You glanced at him, watching the way his dimples appeared when he smiled, the familiar twinkle in his eyes as he caught you looking. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft, the kind of tone that seemed to match the evening around you.

You shrugged, but the gesture felt less grumpy than it normally would have. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

Jungwon nodded, his gaze drifting out toward the campus as well. “About what?”

You could’ve said a lot of things-how everything had felt a little chaotic lately, how much you had to juggle as a student, or how you sometimes felt like you didn’t belong in the middle of it all. But instead, you said something simpler, something that felt right.

“I think… I think I’m okay,” you murmured, staring out at the dimming light. “Like, really okay. With everything. With… you.”

Jungwon turned to look at you, his smile growing wider, his dimples deepening with each passing second. “You mean that, huh?”

You nodded, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest. “Yeah, I do. I never thought I’d say it, but… you’re not so bad. You, uh… balance me out.”

He leaned back on the bench, his eyes warm with affection. “I’ve always thought you balanced me out too. You make me more… grounded.”

It was the first time, in a long while, that you truly felt it-that quiet, steady connection between you two. You weren’t the same, not even close. But there was something in the way you fit together that just made sense. Jungwon, with his sunshine attitude and infectious energy, had a way of pulling you out of your shell, making you laugh when you least expected it. And you? You had a way of keeping him on his toes, of showing him that life wasn’t always as simple as it seemed, but sometimes that was okay.

The silence lingered for a while longer, comfortable and content.

Then, as the sky darkened completely, you looked at Jungwon and sighed. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

Jungwon grinned, the usual mischief dancing in his eyes. “And you’re the best part of my day.”

You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you knew it was true. There were still things about him that irritated you-like the way he folded blankets or how he couldn’t stand to be quiet for more than five minutes-but that was part of it. The part you didn’t mind. Because in the end, it was those little differences that made you both… better.

And for once, you were okay with that.

You turned to face him, catching his gaze for a brief moment before nudging him with your elbow. “Don’t get used to this, though.”

He laughed, the sound as light and carefree as ever, and for a split second, you realized that it wasn’t the perfection of the moment that made it special-it was the messy, imperfect, and sometimes chaotic pieces that fit together so well.

“You’re still my grumpy cat,” Jungwon said, leaning back against the bench with that familiar smile on his face. “But I like you that way.”

You didn’t need to respond. The way you both sat there, side by side, under the quiet sky, was enough. And in that moment, you realized that despite your differences, despite the ways you both clashed, you made each other better. And that, perhaps, was the most real thing of all.

For once, you were okay with that.

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

white wine | f. odair

(part two of red wine)

part one

summary: another celebration in the capitol leaves you and finnick in an argument that threatens to strain your friendship.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: reader’s pov, flirting, angst, argument, struggling finnick :(

notes: i don’t know if i like this, let me know what y’all think! final part will be out in a few days.

word count: 1.6k

A Sphynx cat dressed in a white suit scurried beneath your feet, disappearing around a vine-covered pillar in the courtyard of the Presidential Palace. Fairy lights were hung on every tree, bush, and pillar, providing light in the growing darkness of the evening. Orchestral strings played in a small band off to the side, so beautiful that it sent goosebumps prickling across your entire body. People were dressed to impress, though to you, they looked more ridiculous than impressive.

The 72nd annual Hunger Games had come and gone, and a tour was held for the victor whose name you had not bothered to learn. At last, the infamous grand celebration in the Capitol had arrived.

Months had gone by since your night of red wine and white cats. Parties had not been in short supply since then, meaning your meetings with Finnick remained regular. But something was off about him. Something you couldn’t place no matter how hard you tried.

Winter snow was beginning to stick to the ground, blending with the pure white gown you were wearing, gifted by the generous president. If purity and innocence were what he was going for, he probably should’ve chosen a dress without a plunging neckline. The proof was in the pudding. Or rather, the voice of the heartthrob from District Four.

“That dress is quite distracting.”

Sauntering toward you came Finnick Odair, a playful grin plastered on his face. Just like you, his outfit only consisted of white. A billowy V-neck that dipped down to his navel, paired with white dress pants and a golden netted belt.

“Finnick.” You smiled, your dull mood lifting from his presence. “So, he got you too, huh?”

“What? You don’t think I look dashing in white?” he teased.

“I think you look dashing in anything.”

The words just slipped out, supposed to only remain a thought. Finnick was a flirt, through and through. You hardly ever entertained his flirtatious manner; rebutting with either attitude or timid silence was more your style. So, the last thing you needed was for him to take your words to heart, however genuine they might be.

He blinked in surprise, only to quickly laugh it off. “Thank you, but I don’t think the spotlight will be on me tonight,” he said, his eyes scanning your dress from head to toe, then settling back on your face. “I hate to admit it, but Snow knows beauty when he sees it.”

“Snow knows everything,” you replied sarcastically.

And there it was again. That out-of-character shift in his demeanour. Like a storm cloud had suddenly rolled over head, dampening the mood with its gloomy presence. This was becoming a more frequent occurrence each time you saw Finnick and you were desperate to know why. What had changed?

Sunshine broke through the clouds again in the form of a splitting grin. “Unfortunately, so,” he said, brushing the topic aside as though it were nothing. “Would you like to dance? Give them a taste of real beauty?”

You couldn’t say no.

The instrumentals had slowed to the tempo of an assumed waltz. Although you had been trained in social etiquette, dancing was not your strong suit—unless you counted drunk dancing. With this knowledge, Finnick took the lead, his hand gently cupping your waist, another interlocking your own, and you followed his simple steps until you found a comfortable rhythm.

“I have got to know who your dancing instructor is,” Finnick quipped, his tone full of jest. “He’s got to be pretty talented to be able to teach you how to dance. Undeniably attractive too, considering your incredibly vain nature.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “I can’t seem to recall his name. Not very remarkable. Phineas was it? Or maybe it was Finnley.”

“That hurts, sweetheart.”

“Truth hurts, Odair,” you said, sending him a teasing smile.

He chuckled, the dance continuing smoothly. “You’re getting better,” he said, his voice now sounding sincere.

Before you met Finnick, fitting in with higher society was a struggle. All of their customs and etiquette seemed so foreign to you, especially since you came from a lower-ranking district. But as he meticulously wound himself into your web, he brought with him an abundance of knowledge which he happily shared with you.

You had spent countless hours together, learning different subjects such as how to keep conversations going, the art of seduction, and even dancing, even though you never quite got it down.

Times came when dangerous situations arose—conferences with President Snow, meeting obsessiveCapitol citizens, and being given unreasonable demands. More than once, Finnick saved your life through his guidance. You owed him everything and more.

Heat spread in the places his hands touched you, subduing the slight chill of the winter air. You would expect someone from District 4 to be cold, as the ocean was like a second home to them, with their days spent fishing, swimming, and collecting underwater vegetation in the cold depths. Despite this, everything about Finnick radiated warmth. His bronze hair was like the embers of a dying fire; his skin was fiery upon touch. Even his smile was sunny, always beaming like a golden ray of light.

Slowly, the fairy lights transformed in colour, highlighting the luxurious scenery and both yours and Finnick’s clothing. White turned to green, accentuating the striking colour of Finnick’s eyes which gazed down upon you as your bodies swayed together. After green came a colour that turned your dress a deep crimson.

“This one’s my favourite,” Finnick said, his voice so melodious it sounded like a part of the orchestra.

“Why is that?”

You felt his hand glide to your lower back and your knees almost buckled.

“Because—” The music swelled before its end and he gracefully dipped you as if to emphasise his answer— “you always look stunning in red.”

Everything went quiet. The music had ended and all you could hear was the sound of your heartbeat thumping in your ears. Beautiful sea green washed over your body, enveloping you in complete serenity that resembled the feeling of floating beneath the ocean’s surface. Finnick was there with you, holding you in his arms, his eyes penetrating deep into your own—sea-green serenity.

You lowered your gaze to his lips, admiring the pink colour and velvetiness. It was a dilemma you constantly struggled with—having a crush on the Finnick Odair. The Capitol’s Darling. Everybody wanted him; some actually got him. You heard whispers of his little adventures in the Capitol, how a select few would get to spend the night with him whenever he visited.

There was no judgement on your part; Finnick was your closest friend. And that was all he would ever be, making you the most envious of them all. Condemned to forever wishing to be something more than platonic. Always being the one watching from the sidelines. That was the singular thing you had in common with the people of the Capitol.

But in that fleeting moment, you were undeniably certain no one had ever yearned to kiss anyone more than you yearned to kiss Finnick. Your heart lurched when his eyes flickered to your lips and suddenly, you were questioning whether or not he felt the same. When he started to lean in closer, your heart just about exploded.

But before anything could happen, you realised that the waters were infested with gossip-hungry sharks, waiting for their moment to strike.

Soft murmurs were echoing around you, reeling your harsh reality back into existence. Finnick too noticed and pulled you back into a standing position. His hands dropped from your body and without a second glance, he took off in the opposite direction, leaving you momentarily in shock.

“Wha—Finnick!” you exclaimed, trailing after him.

You weaved through the crowd of engrossed bystanders, ignoring their hushed whispers and unwavering stares. Finnick had climbed two of the marble steps leading up to the mansion before you reached out and grabbed his white sleeve, forcing him to face you.

“What, Y/N?” he snapped, wearing an expression that was a mixture of frustration and hurt. The usage of your real name took you aback. He would always call you ‘sweetheart’ or some other term of endearment. Hardly ever your name. “What do you want?”

You shook your head, confused as to where his sudden hostility had come from. “What’s going on with you?” you asked, searching his eyes for anything that would help you understand, but there were too many emotions for you to decipher. “Whenever we see each other it’s like something is weighing you down. Sometimes you can’t even look me in the eyes and then other times you’re asking me to dance with you and flirting with me. I don’t understand, is it me? Have I done something?”

He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as he averted his gaze. You let out an exasperated breath, lowering your gaze to his chest in frustration. The brilliance of his white shirt caught your attention and a troubling thought popped into your mind. “Has Snow done something?”

His eyes snapped to yours, a silent command to lower your voice. Descending one step, Finnick leaned down, towering over your body. His voice was low, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

In one last attempt to break through his barrier, you slid your hand into his. “Then explain it to me,” you pleaded. “Please.”

The inner turmoil was evident on Finnick’s face. His gaze softened but the deep worry lines were still etched into his skin. For a moment, you believed he was finally going to lower his walls. However, your hope was diminished as he exhaled a long, weary breath and said, “I wish I could.”

And then his hand slipped out of yours, disappearing entirely as he ascended the stairs and left you at the bottom, defeated.

tags: @bellamybellamyblake @teigo-the-explorer

part three

[iamtired10]

jealous jealous

— fluffy (slight angst) headcanons

pairing - newjeans members x female reader

synopsis - how they would react when they get jealous.

warning - jealousy and kisses (same warnings as before..)

a/n - im not totally sure if this is accurate or fun, but here it is. enjoy reading and bye—

requested by — @somedaydream

kim minji

minji is always the steady, reliable one.

but when jealousy hits her, that calm exterior fades into something much softer, more vulnerable.

it’s almost cute how she thinks she can hide it, but you know her better than that.

when she sees someone else getting just a little too close to you, her lips press into a thin line, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

she doesn’t make a scene—not minji—but the way she sidles up to you, slipping her arm around your waist, says everything she won’t.

suddenly, she’s attached to you like glue, her hand never leaving yours.

and if you thought she was clingy before?

it’s nothing compared to how she holds onto you now, as if letting go would mean you’d slip away.

minji isn’t loud about her jealousy, but the intensity is unmistakable.

she’ll rest her head on your shoulder, her breath warm against your neck as she murmurs, “you’re mine, you know that, right?”

her grip tightens ever so slightly, like she needs the reassurance that you’re not going anywhere.

you’d tease her about it, call her out for being so possessive, but her response is just to snuggle closer, burying her face against you with a soft,

“shut up, you love it.” and yeah, you do.

pham hanni

when hanni gets jealous, it’s like watching a storm roll in—fast, loud, and impossible to miss.

she’ll try to act indifferent at first, throwing in a casual, “i don’t care,” as her eyes narrow at whoever’s hogging your attention.

but the pout that forms on her lips is unmistakable, her foot tapping impatiently as she waits for them to leave.

the second they’re out of sight, though, she’s right there, tugging at your sleeve with a mix of frustration and vulnerability.

she’ll fold her arms, puffing out her cheeks in the most adorable way, and mutter, “you’re not allowed to let anyone else make you laugh like that.”

you try to calm her down, but she’s already climbing onto your lap, wrapping her arms around your neck with a stubborn grin. “i’m the only one who gets to do that. got it?”

but the best part?

when she tries to act all tough but fails miserably.

she’ll poke at your cheek, trying to act mad, but the second you kiss her nose or ruffle her hair, she’s all giggles and soft smiles again, her walls crumbling in an instant.

hanni can’t stay mad for long—especially not when you pull her close and tell her she’s your favorite.

danielle marsh

danielle is usually the most carefree, bubbly person you know. jealousy?

it doesn’t even seem like it’s in her vocabulary.

but when it sneaks up on her, it’s a quiet, almost shy thing.

she won’t say anything at first, but you’ll notice how she pulls back ever so slightly, her usual easy smiles faltering. danielle is all sunshine, but when she’s feeling insecure, the clouds start to roll in.

she won’t ask outright, won’t accuse you of anything, but you can see the way her gaze lingers on you, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.

the laughter isn’t as bright, her touches not as bold.

instead, she becomes quiet, distant, like she’s afraid she might lose you without even realizing it.

and the worst part?

she’ll try to hide it, not wanting to burden you with her feelings.

but once you notice, once you pull her aside and ask her what’s wrong, she’ll melt.

her arms will wrap around you in the tightest hug, her face buried in your chest as she mumbles, “i just... don’t want to lose you.”

you’ll reassure her, over and over, until that bright smile returns, her whole body leaning into yours like she can finally breathe again.

danielle doesn’t get jealous often, but when she does, she needs to know you’re hers, and only hers.

kang haerin

haerin is the silent type, always observing, always thinking.

when she gets jealous, you almost wouldn’t know—almost.

she doesn’t make a scene, doesn’t throw tantrums or pout.

instead, she just watches, her eyes sharp as she quietly takes in every interaction you have with someone else.

her expression remains neutral, but there’s a tension in the way she moves, like a panther ready to pounce.

she’ll slip closer to you, her fingers brushing against yours in a way that’s so subtle, yet so possessive.

haerin doesn’t need words to show you how she’s feeling—her presence is enough.

she stands just a little too close, her gaze never leaving you, as if she’s reminding you, without saying a word, that you belong to her.

later, when you’re alone, she’ll sit beside you, her hand resting lightly on your leg, her voice low as she finally speaks. “you’re not interested in anyone else, right?”

it’s not even a real question—she knows the answer.

but hearing you say it makes something soften in her eyes, the tension melting away as she leans into you, her head resting on your shoulder.

haerin doesn’t need to make a big fuss, but when she’s jealous, she’ll make sure you never forget where your heart belongs.

lee hyein

hyein is the youngest, but when she gets jealous, she acts like she’s years older, her voice sharp and demanding as she pulls you aside.

“who was that?” she’ll ask, her eyebrows raised, trying to act all serious and mature.

but you can see right through her.

she’s still the playful, dramatic baby you know and love, even when she’s pretending to be tough.

she’ll follow you around, refusing to let anyone else get too close, her hand firmly in yours as she shoots glares at anyone who dares even glance in your direction.

“you’re mine, no sharing,” she’ll declare, her voice full of mock authority, but the way she clings to you like a kid with their favorite toy betrays her real feelings.

and when you finally laugh and call her out for being so possessive, she’ll just huff, crossing her arms as she pouts.

“i don’t care, you’re not allowed to make anyone else smile like that.”

but underneath all her dramatics, she’s still soft, still the sweet hyein you know.

she’ll eventually lean her head on your shoulder, her voice a little quieter, a little softer.

“i just like you too much, okay?”

a/n - working overtime for y'all :(

[shuaraes]

five minutes | c.sc

- he has never seen such a picturesque sight draped in morning light

oneshot | 1.3k | domestic!au | fluff

if choi seungcheol could choose one memory to keep after death, it would be the ones like this. the ones where he rises slightly early and gets to watch as you wake up to the world. for him it’s the little things: sunshine falling atop his sheets, your limbs intertwined, the pout in your voice begging him to come back to bed. though seungcheol knows for a fact, he would always hit snooze if it meant five more minutes with you.

~ pairing . choi seungcheol x gn!reader

~ content . non idol!au, early mornings with choi seungcheol, oddly sentimental moments lmaoo, fluffiest of domestic fluff, brief banter

~ tw/cw . one slightly suggestive allusion to hickeys but apart from that none at all!

~ song rec . come to me - seventeen

~ author’s note . here’s the surprise i was talking about! apologies for being so inactive, life just had to take priority for once. but i had some free time so i wrote this as a little writing exercise. also i just imagine seungcheol to be the best to wake up to lmaoo. sorry for once again proving i don’t know how to write anything that isn’t pure unfiltered yearning 😭 hope you guys enjoy anyways!

FOR ONCE, IT IS NOT THE DRONING SOUND OF AN ALARM THAT WAKES HIM

but instead the light of the morning - rousing him with its golden-honey rays. Slithers of sunlight burn against his droopy eyelids and he curses himself for forgetting to close his curtains in the evening. He wonders what the time is. With the advent of summer, guessing the time has been harder than a blinded game of Russian roulette. It could be anywhere between 5:30 (he could afford to sleep for a couple more hours) or 11:25 (he might as well not bother showing up to work).

Seungcheol rolls onto his back and cradles his skull with his palm. He drifts his eyes up towards the cream-coloured ceiling, feeling an inexplicable lightness in his chest as it rises with his every breath: ocean waves at high tide. Even though the future stresses of the working day loom at the forefront of his mind, they aren’t tormenting him like they usually do. He isn’t dreading the ring of the alarm. There’s something in his mind and soul that’s scarily at peace, a calmness he only thought he would feel in his dying hours. A sharp snore cuts his train of thought short. Feeling the warmth pressing taut against his side, he realises what the feather-weight feeling in his chest was for.

He flips over to look at you, out like a candlelight. Seungcheol swears he has never seen such a picturesque sight draped in morning light. No painting in a museum could ever come close to this sight of you. Your legs are curled into your torso and hands loosely gripping the sheets. Seungcheol’s eyes are drawn immediately towards your lips, your pillow-soft sighs drift onto the pillow where a tiny pool of salvia is. A thin sheen of sweat, illuminated by golden rays, wraps around your body like a second skin, causing you to glisten like the sun during dawnbreak.

In this moment, you are so peaceful, so calm, so vulnerable. You’re like a god to him, a statue chiselled painstakingly out of marble. Seungcheol has to hold himself back from caressing your puffy cheeks, terrified he’d wake you. You’ve been working long hours recently and today’s your only day of rest. Apart from that, something about watching you catch up on some well-deserved rest burns his heart white-hot with passion.

‘I must have been a saint in my last life to deserve this,’ Seungcheol thinks. As clearly and effortlessly as the chime of a bell of a small bookstore, you entered his life, taking him by surprise. You were like a whirlwind and Seungcheol was enraptured in the eye of your storm. Each day he was falling deeper and deeper, closer and closer to the point of no return. The way your smile and sense of humour makes him float above the clouds, almost as if is high on your presence. If he is, then you’re his favourite drug, that itch that you can never scratch enough, that song that no matter what he does cannot get out of his head.

He thinks about how much he loves you. How much he longs for you when you are not near - how much he wants to worship you until marks, the same colour as pink lemonade, pepper your chest. It almost brings him to tears: the intensity of his feelings in contrast to the softness of the morning light. You’re the most beautiful person to him - mind, body and soul.

Right now, Seungcheol feels content, not in the way you do when finishing a task or lying down with a stomach full of your favourite food. This is different. A contentedness he knows he may never be able to feel again, but the moment is so perfect that he doesn’t need to feel this way again. This morning is already more than enough.

RING-RING

Seungcheol rolls his eyes as the sound of his alarm vibrates deep through his ears. He checks the time. Fuck. He only has 35 minutes to get ready (he could have sworn he set it for earlier). He tries his best to move cautiously, trying not to wake you. But as he sees your body start to shift, he knows his attempts are in vain.

“Sorry sleepyhead,” Seungcheol coos his voice so sweet that it almost fully distracts you from the alarm's monotonous cries. You reply with a quiet 'morning' but you’re not sure if he hears: the sound being muffled by the sheets. He traces mindless patterns across your exposed skin. His fingertips leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You squirm slightly at the ticklish feeling, trying to curl away from his touch. Seungcheol can only laugh.

“What?” He knows he’s teasing, the grin on his face ever-wide.

“Shut up…” You turn your body to face him as he sits up, a yawn escaping from the depths of his chest. “How long have you been awake for?”

“A while.” He stretches over your body to hit snooze and you hear the light crackling of his bones as he moves.

“So you’ve just been watching me drool in my sleep this entire time, weirdo.” You say mimicking his previous teasing tone. Seungcheol rolls his eyes but still helps you rub off a small string of dried salvia sitting on the corner of your lip.

“Maybe, maybe not. Though, you are a wonderful sight to behold in the morning.”

“You’re mad.”

“Madly in love with you.” You snort at his words and playfully smack his bare chest as whiny ‘it’s true’s' fall from his pink coral lips. He smiles so wide, that you catch a glimpse of it through the blinding sunlight - a look at his sweet gummy smile. So wide that you can’t help but smile as well.

If Seungcheol were to describe his personality in one word, it would be a realist, maybe a cynic at times. But when it comes to you, he’s a dreamer. You’re the painter who colours over his grey corporate days, the person that keeps him going when his 9–5 starts to feel like a 24-hour shift and it’s your smile he thinks of at the neon red stoplight when he’s racing back home (he hopes you feel the same). He realises that he would do anything for you and it doesn’t anger him in the slightest.

“After you’re off from work, we should do something. Take advantage of the good weather and longer days.” You muse, still looking up at him. With the way tiredness pulls at your eyes you resemble a baby deer. Seungcheol doesn’t even let you finish your sentence before he’s humming in agreement.

“That would be lovely. Hmm, a walk around the city seems nice, there’s this pop-up museum that I think you’d like. We could also-“

RING-RING

You both groan at the cursed sound. Reluctantly, Seungcheol attempts to rub whatever remnants of sleep are left in his eyes (it doesn’t work, he feels more tired afterwards). With a chaste kiss on your forehead, he tries to free himself from the hold of the duvet and many blankets intertwined with his limbs. If he eats breakfast quickly, he may be able to get to work on time. However, as his legs hang over the side of the bed, Seungcheol feels a vice-like grip tighten around his wrist.

“Don’t go.” Your voice sounds so tired yet commanding, as if you were a witch, forcing him into a trance.

“But lovely, work-“

“If you can shower quickly, you can spare five more minutes with me.” You whine. To Seungcheol, there is no point trying to fight it, you’ve already won.

“I suppose I could."

The light giggle that escapes your mouth seals the deal as you drag him back down to drown in the sheets. He throws an arm around your middle and pulls you impossibly closer. Seungcheol knows his alarm is going to go off again in the next five minutes, but as you melt into his embrace like candle wax and press kisses along the base of his neck, he couldn’t care less about hitting snooze again.

For you, he could spare five more minutes.

For you, he would do anything.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine [4] - Ray of Light

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You’re amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: A ray of light shines through the clouds.

Word Count: 4242 (to everyone who might be wondering why every chapter is turning 4k+... it's the martini I mean it baby)

CW: Smoking cigars, explicit language, mentions of sex

Series Masterlist

Logan was no stranger to the feeling of restlessness.

For him, it was around every corner; impossible to get away from. Even now, having just returned from the latest mission Charles had sent him on, he couldn’t help but feel like a caged animal, desperate to get out.

He gritted his teeth, slamming the door open to enter his room before he unzipped his suit and took it off, tossing it to the corner of the room. After putting his jeans and white shirt on, he ran a hand through his hair and made his way downstairs to the kitchen. Scott and Jean were already there, perched on the stools while Storm sat on the kitchen island, busy with a file. Rogue was rummaging through the fridge and Bobby was making a sandwich on the counter, still in his suit.

“Do we still not have beer in this place?” Logan asked to no one in particular and Storm looked over her shoulder.

“This place hasn’t stopped being a school since the last time you asked, so no.”

“Great,” he murmured. “Soda it is.”

“It’ll be good for your health,” Rogue said with a grin, then tossed him a bottle which he caught mid-air. He extended his arm in Bobby’s direction without a word and Bobby touched the bottle, making it ice cold.

“Thanks,” he grumbled and pulled himself a seat.

“Why are you in a bad mood?” Storm asked with a curious look in her eyes. “The mission was a success.”

“Is it because that guy almost stabbed you?” Bobby asked, making him frown.

“He didn’t almost stab me,” Logan said as Rogue closed the fridge, nibbling on a slice of pizza.

“When people stab you, do you get annoyed?” Bobby asked and Logan raised his brows.

“More annoyed than right now? Nah, it’s about the same.”

“To repeat, why are you so—” Jean started but stopped talking mid-sentence, a smile pulling at her lips. “Ah. I see.”

“What?”

“We were supposed to come back from this mission around afternoon,” she said. “And it’s Monday.”

Shit.

“Jean, stay out of my head.”

Jean grinned at him. “Oh I’m not in your head. Don’t need to be.”

Scott looked between them. “Is this about Theo’s mom?”

The impact of the simple question was almost instant on the small crowd in the kitchen. Storm immediately put the file in her lap aside to look at him, Bobby stopped making his sandwich and looked up from the jar of peanut butter he had stuck the knife in, and Rogue’s jaw dropped.

Great.

“Wait, seriously?” Bobby asked. “You and her—”

“There’s nothing,” Logan cut him off, forcing himself not to let his thoughts drift to her. “Scott has no idea what he’s talking about as usual.”

“You’re just pissed off because you’ll have to wait until Friday to see her again.”

Logan scoffed. “That has nothing to do with the situation.”

“I think you two would make a cute couple,” Storm said and Jean nodded.

“Oh absolutely.”

“Stop it, both of you,” Logan said with a frown. “And for your information, I could see her whenever I want.”

“I don’t think they’d make a good couple to be honest,” Bobby interfered, “I mean don’t get me wrong but you’re…” he motioned at him, making Logan raise his brows. “You.”

“Nothing gets past your observation skills, does it?” Logan deadpanned while Rogue suppressed a laugh and took another bite of her pizza.

“Opposites attract is definitely a thing.”

Logan opened his mouth to retort, but was instantly distracted when he heard familiar footsteps coming closer to the kitchen, making him look over his shoulder. It wasn’t long until Theo appeared at the door in his pajamas, making Rogue let out an “aw!”.

“Hi Theo.”

“Hi Miss Rogue!” Theo gave them a happy smile. “And Mr. Logan and Miss Storm and Mr. Cyclops and Miss Jean and Mr. Ice Man!”

Even Logan had to admit, the kid was adorable. Theo pushed his glasses up, blinking up at them while holding a huge tin container to his chest as the small crowd in the kitchen greeted him back, making his smile bigger.

“Hi bub,” Logan said and Theo waved at him with one hand while still clutching to the tin with the other.

“What are you doing up at this hour Theo?” Storm asked and Theo looked down at the tin container, then up at them again.

“Um—” he said. “Do you know my friend Ralph?”

Bobby tilted his head. “The fish guy?”

“Yeah!” Theo nodded fervently before pushing his glasses up again. “So he told me his mom never baked him cookies, and—I didn’t know moms didn’t bake cookies because mine does whenever I feel bad, so I told my mom about that and um…yesterday she baked cookies for me to bring here,” he said, pressing his index finger on the tin as if to emphasize his point. “Everyone had one but you weren’t around, Professor X said you were busy, and I stayed up late so that you could have some cookies as well.”

She had baked cookies.

For the whole school.

Logan had to remind himself it was the middle of the night so he couldn’t in fact go all the way to her apartment to see her and kiss her and—

Focus.

He had to focus.

But for fuck’s sake, it was almost agonizing at this point. She was actually, genuinely nice, as if it wasn’t enough that he couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful she was, how sweet she smelled, and just how much he wanted to—

Not going there, he forced himself to think. Focus.

Theo made his way to the kitchen island and stood up on his tiptoes to place the tin on the island, making Jean press a hand on her chest and Storm smile softly. Scott ruffled his hair, making him smile up at him.

“Thank you, Theo,” Jean said. “Please tell your mom we thank her as well.”

“Of course!” Theo said, his voice cheerful. “Good night!”

“Good night bub.”

“Good night Theo!”

“I’m so going to babysit when you two get together,” Rogue said through her teeth as if she was hanging by a thread while Bobby rushed to the container to open it the moment Theo left the kitchen. “I swear to God, Logan—”

“No, I agree with Bobby,” Scott said. “She’s too nice for him.”

Bobby pointed at Scott with the cookie he was holding while Logan flipped him and Storm grabbed two cookies, tossed one to Rogue and turned to Jean.

“I’ll fill Charles in about the mission, are you coming?”

“Sure,” she said and grabbed a cookie as well. “I’ll see you guys later.”

With that they both walked out of the kitchen, Storm talking about what an adorable kid Theo was before Bobby popped the cookie into his mouth, then let out a moan.

“Jesus this is too good!” he said. “No I’m serious Logan, she’s like actually pretty and nice and bakes cookies. When was the last time you did anything nice for us?”

“I saved your life like half an hour ago, dipshit,” Logan pointed out, making Rogue laugh. “And every word out of your mouth makes me think I should’ve sat that one out.”

Scott chuckled and took out a cookie out of the container, then nodded at Logan.

“Do you want to have one or do you want to go ring shopping—” he started but he was cut off when one of Bobby’s friends, Caleb, if Logan wasn’t mistaken, entered the kitchen.

“Storm said there were cookies?”

“Over there.” Bobby motioned at the kitchen island. “Theo’s mom made them.”

“Oh she's such a babe,” Caleb said as he reached out for the container, making Logan turn to him while Rogue made a face. “The things I’d do, seriously, the milf of my—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence when Logan grabbed his arm and slammed it to the counter while Rogue exclaimed “Ew, Caleb!” and Scott tilted his head.

“Logan,” he said, his voice completely calm. “We’re not slamming students to flat surfaces.”

Logan gritted his teeth, glaring at Caleb whose heartbeat got much faster, the unmistakable scent of fear lingering in the air.

“Caleb, right?” he growled. “Listen Caleb, the next time I hear you talk about her, or even look at her in any way,” He unsheathed his claws, causing Caleb to let out a whine. “I will rip your fucking tongue out. Do you understand?”

Caleb nodded fervently again and Logan clenched his jaw, then pulled his hand back and Bobby grabbed Caleb by his shirt.

“It’s his first time in public, that’s why he is like this,” he said helpfully, dragging him out of the kitchen. “You fucking dumbass….”

“Sure,” Scott said after a beat, turning to Logan. “There’s nothing going on between you and her.”

Logan sipped his soda. “Shut up.”

Scott held up his hands, mocking surrender.

“Just something to think about,” he said with a smirk. “I’m gonna go find Jean. Good night.”

“And I’m gonna find Bobby and smack Caleb,” Rogue said, pushing herself off the counter. “Good night Logan.”

“Good night kid,” Logan said as they both left the kitchen and he narrowed his eyes at the container on the kitchen island before making his way to it. He grabbed a cookie to bite into it, his eyes closing as the sweetness crumbled inside his mouth, making him let out a breath.

A scene flashed before his eyes, something out of a dream; him in a cabin in the woods with her in his arms. He buried his nose into her neck, inhaling her sweet scent into his lungs as he pressed her warm body against his, her heartbeat getting faster before he forced himself to open his eyes again, taking a deep breath.

“Keep it together,” he muttered to himself and popped the rest of the cookie into his mouth, then pushed himself off the counter and made his way upstairs.

                                         *

Throughout the week, it was one mission after the other. He was beginning to think Charles was doing it on purpose, and when Friday finally arrived, as much as he hated to admit, he could barely focus on anything else.

“Come on, to the lake!” one of the boys said as he walked past them. “Ralph, where’s Theo?”

“Professor X wanted to see him, and I think he left already,” he heard the boy say. “Ugh, I was gonna show him this new fish in the lake! It’s huge!”

 Left?

No, he was still around. Logan could hear his happy chatter with someone through the chatter of the crowd but her scent wasn’t anywhere near so he followed Theo’s voice downstairs, stepping out of the building before—

“Have a nice weekend Mr. Logan!”

Logan’s head whipped around as Theo waved at him, then looked up to the man beside him as he took off his backpack so that the man could take it from him. “Uncle Jamie, this is Mr. Logan!”

What the fuck?

“Who the hell are you?” Logan asked the brunette, making him frown at the apparent hostility in his voice, but he didn’t dwell on it.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m Jamie. I’m picking up the little guy today.”

“No you’re not,” Logan scoffed. “Do we even know who you are?”

“You don’t, but the school does,” Jamie said after a beat. “I appreciate the caution but his mother called Professor Xavier beforehand to let him know, so it’s okay.”

“Uncle Jamie, Mr. Logan helped mommy out with the car when it broke down, and he drove her home the other day, I heard mommy talk about it with auntie Julie!”

Jamie tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “���How helpful of him.”

“And Uncle Jamie is the hero who saved me when I was in mommy’s belly, Mr. Logan!” Theo introduced him, making Logan raise his brows.

“Is that right?”

“I was an intern, Theo was a premature birth.”

 “And you do years long follow up with all your patients or is this one a special case?” Logan asked as a dry smile twitched Jamie’s mouth before he clicked his tongue.

“It is,” he said. “I could ask you the same question though. Do you drive every parent home, or is this one a special case?”

Okay no, he did not like this prick.

However, Theo was right there so he had to mind his language, for his sake.

“You know what Theo, I’m pretty sure I just heard your friends say they were going to the lake,” Logan said, making Theo’s eyes widen. “They were talking about this huge fish. Do you want to go with Uncle Jamie or do you want to stick around a little to see that fish?”  

“Really?!”

“Go ahead,” Logan said. “Uncle Jamie will wait. Won’t you, bub?”

Theo didn’t even wait for Jamie’s answer as he darted for the yard, and Jamie gritted his teeth, shaking his head slightly.

“Unbelievable…” he muttered. “Are you even a teacher here?”

“Sometimes,” Logan said with a shrug of his shoulders and Jamie hummed, then took out his phone and touched the screen before taking it to his ear, waiting for the other line to pick up.

“Hi Jamie!”

It was almost funny, how her soft voice managed to put Logan in a better mood instantly but he tried not to think about it.

“Hi sunshine,” Jamie said, making Logan frown. “Listen, Theo wants to hang out with his friends a little more. Should I wait or…?”

“No no, you go back to the hospital,” she said. “I’ll leave in like an hour or so anyway. It’s a good thing that he’s socializing so um—just, let him.”

“You sure?”

“Oh yeah,” she said. “Thank you again Jamie, really.”

“No problem honey.”

“You can follow the way back,” Logan said, nodding in the direction of the gates when Jamie hung up and he heaved a sigh.

“I know your type, you know?”

“I doubt it.”

“No no, I do,” Jamie said, motioning at him. “This whole tough guy bullshit isn’t gonna impress her.”

A cocky smirk curled his lips. “What, are you threatened?”

Jamie scoffed a laugh.

“That’s not what this is,” he said. “It’s just that I’ve known you for five minutes and I can already tell she deserves better than you.”

That—

That was true actually. Even Logan knew that; hell, he had been trying to make himself understand that ever since he had met her, but no matter how much he tried, he just couldn’t.

Knowing it wasn’t enough to make him stop thinking about her.

“Guess you and I have one thing in common then,” Logan stated. “But I seem to be making better progress in a month than you have in years, huh?”

Jamie shook his head.

“See you around,” he said before he walked away and Logan took a deep breath, then ran a hand through his hair.

“Asshole…” he muttered and made his way through the yard to keep an eye on Theo in case he got too close to the lake.

                                       *

The strange thing wasn’t that he smelled her the minute she arrived.

It was what her scent did to him.

As soon as the familiar sweetness tickled his nostrils, his head snapped up and he looked around, then got up from the bench he was sitting on, painfully aware of his heartbeat getting faster. He strode through the yard, away from where Theo and his friends were running around and towards the gates, where her scent was stronger.

He couldn’t help but notice she didn’t smell like him.

Jamie.

He had no idea why he was getting so worked up on the existence of that asshole, but somehow that detail alone managed to soothe the hot jealousy running through his veins. He knew Jamie had a point, he had been saying the same thing to himself ever since he met her, yet it didn’t mean…

There she was.

He didn’t know how she managed to look everyone and everything else in shadows where she herself was the only thing illuminated as if she had her own ray of sunlight falling over her. The mere sight of her was enough to make him stare at her as she waved at him, her heart pacing in her chest as soon as her eyes fell on him, the pleasant sound nearly deafening in his ears—

No.

He had to focus.

Logan had seen wild animals in captivity before. How they would be straining at their leash, how they would be slamming against their cage, nearly blind with the desire to be let loose and lately, whenever she was around, she had the same effect on him.

“Hey stranger!” she said with a bright smile as she reached him. “Are you okay? You seem…tense.”

Shit.

“Me?” Logan asked. “Nah. Hi.”

Good string of sentences there.

“Hi,” she said, looking up at him. “Look at that, you’re here.”

Logan pulled his brows together. “I live here.”

“No no, I meant—” her heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening at the misunderstanding. “Right, of course you do. It’s just that, when I dropped Theo off on Monday you weren’t here, not that I noticed—disclaimer, I definitely did notice in case it has escaped your notice—but you know, I figured you were busy, and then Theo said…”

Alright, why did he find this cute?

Since when did he find things cute?

“And he must’ve seen someone’s suit or something because now he wants one, and I told him he can have one for Halloween but guess who didn’t think that through, because now I’ll have to tell Julie, she’s the arts and crafts person to go to in a situation like this. I’m just going to bribe her with cookies which is everyone’s favorite payment method I feel like …”

Don’t kiss her.

Do not kiss her.

A part of him wanted to go check with Charles to make sure he wasn’t fucking with his mind, to make sure she wasn’t a figment of his imagination because this wasn’t normal. Having her within his reach, all he could think about was pulling her closer, kissing her and taking her to his bed upstairs, to taste her until the only thing left in her mind was his name, her body trembling, her soft voice hoarse while she begged for—

“And I’ll stop talking now because you’re giving me that look again, do I have something on my face?”

Fuck.

She was looking up at him with a small frown pinching her brows together so he shook his head and said the first thing he could come up with:

“I tried the cookies.”

…Yeah no, Charles had to be fucking with his mind to make him this tongue tied.

“Did you?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you like it?” she asked, her heartbeat getting faster like she was nervous to hear the answer and Logan nodded his head.

“It was amazing,” he said, making her let out a breath, a happy light shining in her eyes.

“Really?”

“I’m serious,” Logan said, “The best cookie I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Aw, that’s wonderful!” she said, smiling wide. “I don’t think I’ve met anyone who doesn’t like chocolate chip cookies, so when Theo mentioned his friend I figured— do you know where he is by the way?”

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

“By the lake with his friends,” he said. “Come on, I’ll take you.”

“Finally in the welcoming tour committee huh?” she joked as she started walking beside him and he chuckled.

“Only for you.”

“Much appreciated,” she said. “I was gonna come earlier actually but there was this thing at work, it was a disaster.”

“What happened?”

“Well, the grill stopped working around the lunch hour,” she said. “They fixed it but waiting for food makes people very grumpy. There was this one customer, he…” she made a face, making him frown.

“What?”

“He was in a very bad mood but thankfully he calmed down when I gave him ice tea on the house.”

Logan shook his head slightly. “You should stop being so nice to people, princess.”

That seemed to make her heart skip a beat, causing a small smile to curl his lips while her hand shot up to her mouth for her to bite at her nail.

“In my defense, that’s not being nice, that’s just being in the service industry,” she mumbled. “Good thing it was fixed fast though.”

Logan hummed.

“So…” he trailed off. “Uncle Jamie then?”

“Oh, you’ve met him?”

“I was around,” Logan lied through his teeth. “When he came here.”

“Yeah, Theo adores him,” she said, nodding her head. “Jamie saved his life when he was an intern—fun fact, some doctors don’t take you seriously when you’re pregnant at 18 and completely clueless, so I knew something was wrong but he was the only one who believed me. He got chewed out by his supervisor but he ended up saving Theo’s life.”

Logan frowned, distracted from the Jamie issue for a moment.

“His father wasn’t there?”

“Nope,” she said with a bitter smile. “He was uh…busy.”

What the fuck?

“Do you know where he is now?” Logan asked, anger shooting through him and she let out a laugh.

 “He’s in the past,” she said. “And he should stay there.”

 He wanted to insist, he really did. The guy sounded like the type of asshole who really needed to get his ass beaten, but before he could ask, she had already changed the subject.

“But yeah, Jamie is amazing,” she said. “He’s very protective, he’s like the brother I never had.”

He bit back the pleased smile threatening to pull at his lips at the second part of that sentence and hummed.

“Yeah?” he said. “Does he know that?”

“Hm?”

“That he’s the brother you never had?”

She blinked up at him in confusion, her brows pinching together before a look of realization downed on her beautiful face, her heartbeat getting faster.

“He does,” she said, nodding her head. “So does his boyfriend.”

…Ah.

He had misunderstood the situation.

That had to be what Jamie meant when he had said “That’s not what this is,” he wasn’t trying to get with her, he was genuinely cautious about strangers such as himself. That whole exchange made sense now, considering the story about him saving Theo’s life; he had met her when she was alone, and had been trying to keep her and Theo safe ever since.

Of course.

“And he’s in a very happy relationship with him,” she added. “Unlike—you know, unlike me who’s not in a relationship at all, totally single. Not that you asked but it’s like…it’s like general trivia about me, and—whoa, today is a hot day isn’t it? Because honestly, it wasn’t this hot when I left the car—”

“Mom!”

“Oh thank God,” she muttered as she turned her head to look at Theo who was running at full speed to them and Logan bit back his grin as Theo reached them and flung himself into her arms.

“I missed you bean!” she said, hugging him tight and kissing the top of his hair. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah!” Theo said, his glasses slipping as he nodded fervently and she pushed them up again with a fond look on her face. The sight sent a warmth through Logan’s chest, a smile he didn’t even notice curling his lips. “We saw a big fish!”

“Really?” she gasped, her whole attention on him, hanging onto every word he said. “How big was it?”

“This big!” Theo spread his arms as wide as he could, making her smile widen.

“Whoa, that sounds big!” she said. “What color was it?”

She was too good at this. Even an outsider could see how excited Theo was to tell her everything, how genuinely happy he was to have her there and how attentive she was with him.

“Gray,” Theo answered. “Mom, maybe it’ll grow up to be a shark!”

Logan tilted his head and she exchanged glances with him as if telling him not to tell Theo it would not in fact grow up to be a shark, and Logan winked at her, making her giggle.

“Maybe,” she said, turning to Theo. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Theo said and she fixed his shirt, then took his backpack from him to swing it over her shoulder.

“Say goodbye to Logan.”

“Goodbye Mr. Logan!”

Logan ruffled his hair. “Have a great weekend bub.”

“I’ll see you around?” she asked and Logan couldn’t help but stare at her beautiful face before reminding himself to pull himself together.

“Yeah,” he said, trying to focus. “Don’t be too nice to people until then.”

Her smile widened and she heaved a sigh, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly.

“Don’t be too mean to people until then,” she replied and took Theo’s hand, walking away with him. He could hear her asking what else he had seen in the lake and Theo listing every single fish he had seen so he watched them until they were out of his line of sight, then let out a breath.

“Fuck…” he muttered, frowning to himself. “She’s beautiful, got it. Get your shit together.”

5 - Dusk

[sparks-and-smoke]

Would it be possible to get a fic about Bucky and his GF getting caught on a date by the media. The GF is Pluse size and maybe someone makes a mean comment about her size? Cue protective Bucky who LOVES his girl so much

This is precious. And while I am almost certain you mean normal Bucky I had an idea for a popstar reader soooo. You’re getting Bodyguard Bucky. Ooops~ hope you like it anyway. 🩵

Characters/Pairings: Bodyguard!Bucky x Plus size popstar! Reader

Content/Warnings: fatphobia, body image issues, and illusions to smut at the end. Bucky is gonna be super sweet, but if this kind of thing triggers you steer clear. Stay safe, babes!

Author Note: this is written on my phone, and not beta read. So… extend me some grace :)

It was almost preternatural in a way, the way Bucky could sense when you weren’t ok. The way he seemed to know the moment he walked in your door that he was gonna have to chase away storm clouds, but it never failed. Your bodyguard always knew. And he made it his life mission to keep his sunshine girl from flickering out.

“What have you been reading.” He asked, his face stern and jaw clenched but his eyes softer then they had any right to be.

You sigh, turning off your phone screen and setting it face down, “Nothing, just an article.”

“An article about you?” He asked, tilting his head to try and see your eyes. He already knew the answer, because he followed what the media was saying. From the moment you stepped onto the scene the topic of discussion hovered around your weight more then it had any right to be. It didn’t matter that you had a voice that gave people goose bumps or that your presence on stage could light up a stadium all on your own. Because you weren’t a tiny little Barbie doll none of that seemed to matter.

You had been a beacon of positivity through it all though. Using your platform and following to promote self love and healthy habits at all sizes. Focusing on moving your body and prioritizing health over weight or measurements. Bucky adored you for it. Thought you were an angel, deserving of the world. Ans he wished everyone else thought that as well.

“Stars did an article on me.” You admitted, getting up and heading to the kitchen for some water. Not meeting Buckys eyes. “They are covering my casting in hairspray.”

“Yeah?” Bucky followed closely behind. He was proud of you for landing that role. You deserved it, you were gonna be a perfect Tracey. “What about it.”

You still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “It’s nothing James. There just saying I’m perfect for the role.”

Jame. James?! You never called him James. He was always Bucky, sometimes Bucky baby if you were really in a mood. That’s how he knew whatever they had written had hit a chord. “Angel… what did it say.”

You just shake your head and down your water. It really didn’t matter. It wasn’t anything that hadn’t been said before. To be honest, you don’t know why it was bumming you out so badly.

Except you did know why. Because you had dreamed of being on broadway your entire life. Since you were a little girl. And now… that dream was coming true. But all anyone wanted to talk about was how the plus sized popstar landed the fat girl role because what else could she be…

“Angel. You’re thinking awfully loud over there. You gonna tell me or am I gonna have to pull it out of you?” He stepped in closer. His smoky sweet aftershave wafting around you, pulling your eyes up to look at him. His glacial blue eyes were begging, pleading you to talk.

“They-“ you sigh, shoulders drooping. “They got a picture of me coming out of rehearsal. I’m in sweats, it’s unflattering and the whole article is about how I’ve put on weight for the role. Which I haven’t, if anything I’ve lost some from constant practices. But that’s not the point..” your voice cracks.

“I’m tired James. I am tired of having to be put together all the time or the paparazzi makes it all about how I let myself go. I finally reached what I concider to be a highlight of my career-” You voice cracks. The damn that had been slowly cracking inside your chest finally breaking. “And all anyone wanted to to talk about is how my thighs look in my sweats!”

Bucky was already moving. Pulling you into his arms. Tucking your eyes up under his chin as you shake with anger and frustration. Smoothing your hair from your face and kissing your temple with a lingering touch. “There we go, let it out.”

He lets you rant. Pushing down his own anger and frustration. You were the most beautiful person he knew. Inside and out. He had worked for a couple different celebrities over the years and none had the same golden heart as you. None. “I’m so sorry Angel. It’s a load of shit and we both know it but I know thy doesn’t make it easier.”

He closed his eyes. Kissing your hair. “You are beautiful. Every inch of you. From the top of your head to the tips of your toes. I hope you know that.” He pulls back to look into your red rimmed eyes. Cupping your cheek. “You are talented and charming and you draw people to you like flies to honey. And everyone with a brain can see it. I promise. Whoever wrote that article was poking at low hanging fruit that anyone of substance doesn’t care about. You are perfect.”

His voice drips with sincerity as his eyes roam your face. Pads of his thumb wiping away angry tears. “I think you need to put down your phone for the day. Why don’t you give it to me or to Alice and we’ll focus on things that actually matte today ok?”

You blink away tears, considering it. You could hand off your phone. Let your assistant answer your phone for the day, she will let her know if it’s something she needs to answer directly. But, unplugging was hard-

“Come on angel, we will go punch some stuff at the gym. And then I’ll take you for froyo at that boba place you like.” He tucks your hair behind your ear. “And then you can shower and I’ll help you unwind before you have your go practice tonight. How about that.” His voice was laced with promise. With sweet dark temptation as he leans forward and whispers the thing he could do to help you feel better. And you bite your lip as you know he will follow through on every one.

“How about we shower first?”

Bucky smiles, guiding you back toward your room as his hands slip under the hem of your shirt. “Whatever you want princess, let me show you how perfect I really think you are~”

[glittter-skeleton]

I am obsessed with the fact that Michael Schur has done the same exact pairing of sunshine protagonist x anxious storm cloud love interest for 4 different shows now and it is wonderful every single time

(The love interest’s level of anxiety also increases with every iteration)

[sigilslvt]

Until The End • Suguru Geto

☣︎ Summary: Suguru Geto. The name that used to give you butterflies and come wrapped in nothing but sunshine now only makes you feel a deep void in your heart. Three years ago, your high school sweetheart defected. He gave no warning, offered up no signs of his emotional state, he simply... left. What will you do now when he shows up after all this time?

Pairing: Suguru Geto x Fem Reader

Tags: fem! sorceress reader, ex boyfriend! suguru, angst, pre and post jjk0, mentions of murder, smut, oral sex (f receiving), p in v, creampie, whiney geto, stalking, heartbreak, pregnancy, death

WC: 6.6k

A/N: hehe, i know i said happiness would come soon, but the mood struck, so ANGST! feel free to send suggestions for a happy fic, though!

The wind stirs through the sprawling campus of Tokyo Jujutsu High, carrying the soft scent of rain on the horizon. It’s spring, your favorite season. You’ve always loved the way rain kisses the apples of your cheeks when you look to the sky to see the pillowy clouds just before a storm starts. You’re sitting on the steps outside the training hall, your knees tucked up to your chest. It’s quiet—a rare, fleeting moment of peace. The faint hum of distant voices from other students training filters through the air, but it feels like a world away. From behind you comes a familiar voice, warm and teasing, breaking the spell of solitude.

 Your favorite voice.

“Spacing out again?”

You turn your head, a grin already forming. Your beautiful boy is approaching, his hands casually shoved into his uniform pockets, that usual spark of mischief glinting in his beautiful purple eyes. His presence feels like sunlight breaking through the clouds, and you can’t help the way your heart leaps. He’s a comfort you never knew you needed until he walked into your life. His hair, tied neatly in its usual ponytail, catches the light, and for a moment, you’re reminded of how effortlessly radiant he is. He saunters over, his movements unhurried, and settles down beside you as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Because it is. It’s so natural to just gravitate toward each other at this point and you love it. He loves it. He feels like he belongs, truly belongs when he’s with you.

���I was just thinking,” you reply, your voice soft. He leans closer, tilting his head in that way he always does when he’s truly listening. It’s one of the things you’ve always loved about him— how present he is, even in the smallest moments. His head rests on yours, making your body feel all warm and tingly inside. The faint smell of his cologne, a subtle mix of cedarwood and something floral, lingers in the air between you, grounding you in the moment.

“About what?”

You hesitate, glancing down at your hands, the delicate scars lining your fingers feel more pronounced under his gaze, like they’re a testament to the battles you’ve fought and the fears you’ve buried so young. “About the future. What comes after all of this. After Jujutsu High. Our lives are just gonna consist of curses, curses, and more curses.”

“And each other.” He interrupts.

“You know what I mean.”

He hums thoughtfully, the sound low and soothing. “You’re not thinking of quitting, are you?”

“No,” you say quickly. “It’s just... hard to imagine what life will look like. Fighting curses, protecting people who will never even know our names. Sometimes it feels endless.”

Suguru is quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The sky above is streaked with shades of orange and pink as the sun dips lower, casting long shadows across the courtyard. Then he reaches over, his fingers brushing against yours. The touch is light, tentative, but it’s enough to send warmth blooming through your chest. It’s… testing. To see if his normally strong and steadfast girlfriend will allow him to comfort her. You relent, intertwining your fingers with his and he squeezes your hand.

“You’re not alone in this,” he says, his voice steady. “No matter what, we’ll figure it out together. I’ll be with you until the end”

You look at him, your breath catching. There’s something unspoken in his eyes, something deeper than words. It’s in the way he looks at you, the way he always seems to know what you need to hear. In that moment, the uncertainty that’s been gnawing at you fades, replaced by a quiet, steadfast hope. You believe that as long as he’s by your side, you’ll be able to face whatever comes next.

He smiles then, his thumb grazing the back of your hand. “I’ll love you until the end, you know,” he says, almost teasing, but the words land heavier than you expect. You laugh softly, brushing it off, but a part of you holds onto them, tucking them away in the deepest corners of your heart.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Three years later, that hope feels like a distant memory. Especially now.

You stand frozen in the doorway of your apartment, staring at the man who had disappeared without a trace. Suguru Geto. His name feels foreign now, like a ghost of the boy you once knew. He looks older, sharper, his features etched with a hardness that wasn’t there before. Worn by the hatred for non-sorcerers. His dark hair is longer now, loose and falling over his shoulders, and he sports a gojogesa rather than his usual black t-shirt and sweats. But his eyes— those same amethyst eyes that once held so much warmth are fixed on you with an intensity that makes your chest ache.

He’s standing there so casually. As though he never left. As though he hadn’t broken your heart and left you to pick up the pieces. “I need you,” he says, his voice low and urgent. It’s the first thing he’s said to you in three years, and it cuts through you like a blade. The weight of his words crashes over you, dredging up emotions you thought you’d buried: anger, longing, confusion, and an unbearable grief.

Your fists clench at your sides. “You need me?” you echo, your voice trembling with anger. “You left without a word, Suguru. No explanation, no goodbye. You killed over a hundred people and then killed your parents. You said goodbye to Shoko and Geto. And now you just show up and expect me to—”

“I couldn’t break up with you,” he interrupts, his tone desperate. He takes a step closer, and the faint scent of him—still cedarwood but now tinged with something darker, heavier—invades your senses.

“That’s why I didn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell you how I was feeling because I didn’t want to let you go and I knew we wouldn’t be on the same path from then on. I told myself that if I didn’t end it, then… then we would still be together. Still be okay.”

Your breath catches, your heart pounding in your ears. “So what? You didn’t want to give me a chance to change your perspective!? To steer you in the right direction? You thought leaving without a trace was a good option? Do you have any idea what that did to me!?”

He flinches, guilt flickering across his face. But there’s something else there too, something darker. “I couldn’t stay,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not with the way the world is. Not with the way sorcerers are treated. I had to do something.”

“Defecting was the answer?” you demand, your voice rising. “Turning your back on everything we fought for?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” he says, his tone sharp. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then make me understand,” you plead, your voice breaking. “Tell me why you chose this path. Tell me why you left me.”

For a moment, he says nothing, his gaze dropping to the floor. The tension between you is suffocating, the silence heavy with unspoken truths. Then he steps even closer, his hand reaching for yours. You don’t pull away, even as your heart twists painfully in your chest. Even as every atom that makes up your body tells you to.

“I left you because I loved you,” he says, his voice raw. “I knew that if I stayed, I couldn’t protect you or create the world you deserved. I didn’t want you to get caught up in my choices until I was sure I could do it. I hoped that you could see that all of it— all of this was… ” he trails off for a moment, seemingly rerouting his brain. “Do you remember that one day in spring? When you wondered about what life would be like after high school?” he asks.

“What about it?”

“I helped you through it by telling you what you wanted to hear, but… but really I was happy that you were questioning things, too. Because ever since Amanai… since Toji… I realized that we were just slaves to those who will always see us as dirt on their shoes without knowing all that we sacrifice for them. I saw the look on your face and I knew then that I couldn’t keep fostering a world where that’s all that we know. Where our kids would know. I found a better way. This is the better way. The only way for us to live happily and free from the shackles of being a jujutsu sorcerer. We can live for ourselves, not for the weak. No more fighting. No more loss.” he explains desperately.

The sincerity in his voice is like a knife to your heart. You want to hate him for all he’s done, to push him away, but the love you still feel for him won’t let you. It’s a cruel, unrelenting thing, binding you to him even after everything. That bond solidified by the knowledge that even though he did things in a sick and twisted way, he meant good. He wanted to make the world a better place. For you. Always for you.

And while you’re trapped in your thoughts, he brings your knuckles to his lips, breaking you from them in the way he always used to do. Your gaze softens and you take him all in while he’s in this state. For a second, he looks once again like the boy you fell in love with. Soft. Caring. Strong. But you can’t let go of the fact that he isn’t him anymore. Not fully. And you resent him for taking that boy from you. “I hate you.” you spit, an obvious lie.

“I love you.” he replies.

“You should go.”

“I know.”

And yet neither of you move. Not for a few moments. And it’s thanks to those few, uninterrupted moments that he has the time to work up the courage to press himself to you, bringing your hands up around his neck. He’s so close you can feel his breathing on your forehead, but you don’t look all the way up into his eyes, afraid you’ll wake up from a dream if you do.

“I need you.” he echoes the first words he said to you in three years.

And just like that… you’re done for.

You finally look up, gaze landing on his, the expression on his face full of the very need he claims to feel. When your eyes soften the way they always used to for him after a silly argument, he knows… he knows you need him, too. His lips mash into yours and the kiss is desperate, teeth against teeth, swallowed breaths, and strained grunts as he closes the door to your apartment behind you, placing his palm on it to protect your head before slamming you against it.

He breaks the kiss to look at you. Really look at you… and all he can think is that you look so much more beautiful up close. Three years of watching you from afar, of keeping tabs on you without getting caught did nothing for him the way seeing you right here in front of him did. You look tired. So tired. He hates seeing you like this. Knowing you slave your life away for weak people, spending every day putting your happiness— your life on the line.

He’s ripped from his thoughts when you stand on your tippy toes to nuzzle your nose against him. “I’m right here.” you murmur, seemingly reading his mind. He nods, kissing you again, but this time it’s slower. Passionate. Loving and loving mixing together to make you both drunk on each other.

Strong arms lift you, bringing your thighs to wrap around his waist while he takes you to your bedroom, your mind too focused on how your boy is now a man— a strong, beautiful man, for you to question why it is that he knows the layout of your home down to the laundry basket even you bump into that’s in the hallway just in front of your bedroom door.

He places you on the bed gently, standing to look at you again. “Stay.” you breathe, unsure of whether or not he was thinking of leaving, but speaking anyways. He smiles as though he’s lost another silly decision about where to eat again like when you were younger and your heart flutters. He’s utterly helpless against you.

You watch as his fingers move to undo his gojogesa, letting the top half fall off his broad shoulders and hang off his waist before bending to hover over you. “I couldn’t leave even if I tried.” he murmurs, pressing kisses from your lips to your cheek, then your jawline, and finally your neck where he bites down gently, sucking a mark into the soft flesh that joins your neck to your shoulder.

You use the opportunity to lift your hips and slide down your leggings, but he stops you before you can get them too far, shaking his head. “Please let me take my time. I need this… to savor this.” He pleads, knocking the breath from your lungs with the look on his face. He’s so beautifully pained that all you can do is nod.

His fingers replace yours, hooking into the waistband of both your leggings and underwear and slowly pulling them down while he kisses your belly… your hips… your mound… and finally they’re off and your cunt is laid bare before him. He doesn’t rush to it though, no, he instead moves back up your body to kiss you again, hands splaying out on either side of your stomach, gripping at whatever fat he can get as his tongue invades your mouth, tasting you— the sweetest thing he’s ever known.

He only breaks the kiss to remove your shirt from your body, pleased to find that you’re not wearing a bra. His head dips into the crook of your neck and he swipes his tongue on it, his hands pinning and brushing up, up, up your arms until his fingers intertwine with yours. It’s a grounding gesture, one meant to keep you in place and him in this moment.

“Tell me you still love me…” he breathes and you can’t believe he even wonders. As though you not turning him away or capturing him and calling Satoru wasn’t enough. He really was still the boy who always needed reassurance behind closed doors.

“I’ll love you until the end.” you echo the words he once told you three years ago. He smiles at the memory, taking in your smell before moving to pepper lingering kisses along your collarbone, your chests, and finally your breasts. He places one of your hands in the other so he can hold them with only one of his own, opting to knead at one of your breasts while his mouth tends to the other.

Thumbing the hardening pebble with one hand, his mouth works on the other, tongue swirling around your nipple before he sucks with enough pressure that has your back arching up into him, cunt beginning to just weep onto your bed. He chuckles at the shaky moan you release, his warm breath ghosting on your now cold nipple and making your body jerk.

He doesn’t linger there long, moving down to kiss your mound and finally releasing your hands, his hands sliding down your body and instead finding purchase on your breasts before he’s slotting his head between your thighs, kissing the insides of them sweetly. “You’re a vision of perfection, y’know that?” he coos, making your cheeks burn up.

You’re not given a chance to respond before he’s pulling a gasp from your lips by kissing your clit like he’s hit a bullseye. Your thighs jerk on either side of his head and he chuckles, swiping his long tongue up from your quivering hole to your clit, kissing it again for good measure.

“Sugu…” you whine, a pout forming on your face to complete the look of pure need that has his eyes nearly rolling back in his head. In these years, he’s imagined what you’d look like underneath him countless times. Imagination was nothing compared to the real thing. Fucking his fist pales in comparison to the pleasure he gets from simply kissing your pillowy lips.

You couldn’t possibly be more thankful when he finally begins to glide his tongue between your folds more eagerly, fingers pinching at your nipples at the same time for the added stimulation you needed to avoid going stir-crazy while he worshipped you. He still works his tongue languidly, slow laps to savor your taste that have your gut twisting and a hand snaking down to his head, fingers tangling into his raven locks. “Fuck…” you breathe out, hips bucking into him, other hand gripping the sheets.

The more his warm tongue works against your now scorching hot cunt, the faster your breathing gets, almost in time with the flicks of his tongue against your swollen clit. You can’t bring yourself to look down, feeling his gaze sear itself onto your face without even having to. But, that won’t do for him. He sucks your clit harshly and releases it with a loud ‘pop’, lifting his head from your delectable core.

“Look at me.” he purrs, blowing onto your wet skin and causing goosebumps to rise all over your body. And with that voice, you can’t deny him, not even for a second. You drag your eyes to look down at him and the sight is none other than Godly. His mouth and chin are covered in your slick, face red and forehead beading with sweat as his chest heaves… and those fucking eyes. Those beautiful eyes are looking up at you like you’re the only thing that matters in this world.

He keeps his eyes on you as he starts to work your clit again, his hand coming down to prod his middle finger into you, your legs twitching at the intrusion. “A-Ah, Sugu, I’ve ne–”

“I know.” he interrupts. Of course he knows, you two had never done anything in high school. He wanted to marry you first, wanted to be honorable. He’s never seen you with another man aside from Gojo and he knew that’d never happen. He knew better than to waste time now, no, he wouldn’t let this chance slip away from him.

He glides his finger in and out of you slowly at first, testing the waters as he eats you out, eyes still on you to gauge your reactions. After all, you’d need lots more preparation before he could fit himself snugly inside you. He presses a second finger against your hole, pushing past the muscly ring of resistance to fit inside of you along with his middle finger. You hiss and he stills, watching as your brows knit together and you take a deep breath, blowing it out to steady yourself. “You okay, angel?” he asks.

Angel. The nickname he had blessed you with so long ago. One you’d long to hear from the shadows, at a coffee shop, or just back at Jujutsu High signaling that he’d come back. And he finally has. “Don’t stop…” you force out, not wanting to waste any time, either. The stretch is uncomfortable thanks to Sugu’s admittedly large fingers, but you’ve fought curses since you were thirteen, you can handle pain. Especially if he’s the one to deliver it to you.

The look of pride on his face is so glaringly obvious as he smiles against your sodden cunt, beginning to pump his thick digits into you again, pulling a lascivious moan from your lips that he swears is an angel’s song. But with the way he begins plundering his fingers into you as a reaction, you’d think you’d have moaned a siren’s song instead. He’s chasing more of them, more moans, more slick, more beautiful twitches of your brow when he hits that spot.

And he gets it all. You writhe and wriggle beneath him while he eats you out and pumps you full of his digits again and again. He pulls back to watch your cunt greedily swallow his fingers up and he almost chokes, the muscle clinging so tightly that it comes in and out with his fingers, pulling him back in every time he pulls out.

With that, he’s attached to your clit again, sucking and swirling his tongue around it with a hunger that has you seeing stars. The knot that’d formed in your stomach is now tightening to a point where you feel it might just snap and with just one low, gravelly, pussydrunk moan from him– it does. Your hips buck and you’re turning your head to the side, eyes squeezed shut as you grip his locks, keeping him against your pussy while you just cum, cum, cum, all over his fingers as he works you through your orgasm with quick flicks and sucks on your clit before he slows to a stop.

You will yourself to look back down at him, chest heaving as you catch him pulling his fingers out to suck your slick from his fingers, his eyes rolling back into his head while he literally growls at the taste. And if you thought he was pussydrunk before, you were sorely mistaken. Pussydrunk becomes pussy crazed and he stands, undoing the rest of his gojogesa to let it fall to his feet, stepping out of it and slowly approaching you. Your eyes fall from his own down to where his need for you is strongest and your breath hitches. 

You always knew Sugu was big, it was never a secret. You two’d never done anything before, but back then he’d practically get hard whenever you were around him. This, however, is more than just big. He’s fucking hung. You wonder if you should’ve held out on cumming so he could train you a little longer with a third finger, but that time is long gone and you know he can’t hold back any longer. You don’t want to either, but…

“You can handle it.” he snaps you from your thoughts. The words sound more like a promise than reassurance.

You tremble with anticipation, backing up further onto the bed and resting your head against your pillows as he settles himself between your thighs. He looks down on you like a predator looks at its prey– calculating and hungry. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him down into a kiss, his body moving upward so he can rest a hand on your headboard. His fat tip smacks your clit, dripping pre onto it in small beads, making you whine. It’s heavy and hot against you and you can feel it twitching when it comes into contact with your slit, accompanied by a hiss from him when he breaks the kiss. 

“Just relax for me, Angel, okay? It’ll be less uncomfortable that way.” he directs you, voice low and strained and breath ghosting against your lips. You can tell he wants this just as much, if not more, than you.

“Okay, baby…”  You say and you can hear the way his breath hitches in response, swearing he snuck a little ‘fuck’ in there.

His grip on the headboard is so tight he thinks he might just splinter it, but he knows he needs to steady himself, so he holds on anyway, promising himself to just buy you a new bed if he breaks yours. His other hand reaches down for his length, gripping the base of his shaft and sliding himself between your folds to collect your slick and make it easier for him. The contact has you both groaning and he can’t help but look into your eyes again as he positions himself at your entrance, testing the resistance with his tip.

“It’s okay, baby, give it t’me.” you reassure him.

That’s all he needs to hear before he’s sheathing the tip inside of you, causing you to suck in a sharp breath at the stretch. The second he feels your gooey, gummy walls around him, it’s game over, truly. “Sh-Shit!” he hisses out, actually breaking the headboard above you, wood pieces falling beside your head. You look up at him and can see the restraint on his face. He’s holding back for your sake.

Your hands glide up his chest and caress his face. “You got it, baby, just breathe. Breathe.” You tell him, taking slow and deep breaths again and again until he starts following your lead, calming himself down as much as possible in this situation. With your nod, he pushes in further until he’s halfway in and you’re writhing underneath him, the sheer girth of him stretching your walls thin. The hand that’d been guiding his cock now finds purchase on one of your thighs to keep you steady, trying to stop you from shying away from or fucking yourself deeper onto him.

“Almost there, Angel. I’m gonna make you feel good…” he promises you, grunting as he slowly pushes forward again. He’s thrusting in, in, in, and scraping against your gummy walls until his balls hit your ass and he’s fully sheathed inside of you, a shaky, high pitched whine falling from his lips.

You’re breathing heavily, tiny little whimpers freeing themselves from your throat between each breath, legs shaking, fingers digging crescents into his shoulders to ground you. For a few moments, all you two can do is stare at each other. In awe, in lust, in love, you stare. It’s him that breaks the silence. “Baby, if I don’t move now, I’m gonna cum. You’re squeezing so tight, I gotta loosen you up a bit.” He grunts out, pulling all the way out before gliding forward again, back home to your welcoming wet heat.

“S-Sugu… s’deep… you’re s’deep!” 

“I know, pretty girl, I know.” He coos, leaning forward to dig even deeper, still using the broken headboard for support. He pulls back for just a moment before rolling his hips forward, impossibly heavy balls smacking against your ass as you moan out, pulling him down for another kiss. You need it desperately to keep yourself from fainting at the way he feels inside of you.

You’d heard so many stories about the first time being painful and bloody and this was not that, no this pain turned to pure pleasure. Maybe you were sick for feeling like it, you don’t know.

“More, Sugu, more…” You beg, breaking the kiss and you swear you see the man leave his body for a moment before he’s kissing you deeper, making love to you harder. He rolls his hips into you with perfect precision, free hand folding one of your thighs up higher so he can aim for that spot that makes your mind go dumb.

He breaks the kiss to look at how fucked out you already look, his brows knitted, sweat dripping from them. “God, you’re s’fucking tight, Angel… I can’t st—hah stop!” He warns you, pressing more of his weight down onto you as he drills himself into your squelching cunt, your hole twitching and struggling to stay stretched around him as he churns your insides.

You’re fucked utterly stupid. He’s not even fucking you fast, just so incredibly deep and hard that he knocks the wind from you with every thrust. Between how good it feels and the lack of oxygen, you can only allow him little ah, ah, ahhs while he splits you open on his length over and over again. You can tell he’s fucking you with the intent to make you feel just how much he’s missed you. So it’s only fair that you do the same.

His lips are hovering over yours and you fist his hair roughly to bring him to you, kissing him hard, teeth gnashing together as you squeeze your sopping wet cunt tighter around him. He gifts you with a growl that ends in a whine as he picks up the pace, now removing his hand from the headboard to fold you up and stuff you so good you can’t think, can’t speak, can’t do anything but feel. Feel him. Feel his weight fully pressed onto you, now.

You can’t help but look down between you to catch a glimpse of his length disappearing into you every time he thrusts, a small but noticeable bulge poking just below your navel when he gets in nice and deep. There's a ring of slick forming around the base of his cock and dripping down his balls that makes you wanna lick it up and the way his hips stutter and then ram into you slower, deeper, and rougher when you think that makes you realize that you’d actually said that out loud. And there’s that feeling again in your core. Strong and pulsing, teetering on the edge. You’re so close.

“So fucking nasty, d’you know that? You and this pussy. M-My pussy… my pussy, baby, my pussy… say it’s mine. Say you’re mine.” He whimpers, making you tear your eyes from where the two of you are connected to look up at his face. His cheeks are red, mouth agape, brows meeting in the middle, and he’s heaving. The moment you make eye contact, he throws his head back, hips faltering again. He’s close too, you can feel it.

“I’m yours, Sugu, it’s yours… all yours! Fuck! Yes, yes, yes!” You moan in time with his thrusts before he kisses you hungrily, quickening up, but not at the cost of how deep or rough he’s delivering every precise thrust. He wants you to cum first, but you’re holding out, you wanna cum with him. You rip your kiss bitten lips from him to coax it out of him. “S’okay, baby, cum… cum in me, it’s yours…” You bite your lower lip after you speak, keeping your eyes on him, your own brows knitted in pleasure as your pussy flutters and tightens around him.

That’s all he needs to fuck into you one last time, delivering the last thrust you need to cum, too. Nails clawing down his back, cries reverberating off your bedroom walls, you’re arching up into him and he’s pulling you flush to him, up onto his thighs while his arms wrap around your back, hands reaching your shoulders and pushing you down onto his length as he stuffs his face in your neck. He groans and moans and bites into your flesh as he ruts himself into you, getting out whatever spurts of cum your nasty pussy can get from him and overstimulating you both all at once.

It takes a few minutes for you both to catch your breath and he stays buried in your neck the entire time, laying down on top of you with his cock still buried in the deepest parts of your cunt. This feels perfect. So perfect that despite all he’s done, you want to save him, still. His heartbeat is steady, a quiet reassurance that he’s still here, still alive, still yours.

In that moment, every tear you’ve shed and every sleepless night spent missing him seem to dissolve into the fact that he’s here. His touch is both familiar and foreign, a bittersweet reminder of what you’ve lost and what you still crave. The room is dimly lit by the pale moonlight dancing on both of your skin. His hands trace the contours of your body, memorizing every inch as if he’s trying to etch you into his memory. But he doesn’t have to..

“Stay,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “Stay with me. Talk to the elders, plead your case, and maybe they’ll understand enough to give a light sentence. Please. Please, Sugu, I don’t want to lose you again.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. “I think you give the elder’s too much credit. Nevertheless, I’ll do anything— everything... for you.” he says, and there’s a heaviness in his voice that makes your chest tighten. 

You want to believe him, to hold onto the hope that he can change. And as the night passes, he shows no signs of leaving. He tells you what he’s done for the last three years aside from the cult, tells you he’s always watched you, tells you that he couldn’t stand being away from you anymore. That he was ready to come here and bring you to his side and he’s happy you’ve accepted him. It’s a peaceful night and eventually, his voice paired with his soothing touch lulls you to sleep.

When you wake the next morning, he’s gone. The space beside you is cold, and the ache in your chest is unbearable. You sit there for what feels like forever staring at the empty bed, tears streaming down your face. He’s gone and somehow you know that this time… he’s not coming back.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Six years pass and life moves on, even though the pain doesn’t. The first two years, you disappear with the help of Gojo. You knew that if you stood and Geto came to you again, you’d break completely. You couldn’t, as you had a new reason to build a better world. A new life to protect growing inside you. When you give birth, it’s magical, but something is missing. You miss Suguru. You hope that by some miracle, he’ll come to you and raise your little girl instead of spewing all the hatred he does.

The next four years are easier. You have a support system and everyone in it helps with your daughter. Everyone loves her. You throw yourself into your work as a jujutsu sorcerer, burying the memories of Suguru beneath layers of duty and resolve for the sake of being a good mother and sorcerer, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t forget him. He lingers in the corners of your mind, a shadow you can’t escape.

Now you’re standing in the middle of a training session with first-year students when the piercing wail of alarms shatters the quiet morning. Every head snaps up, tension rippling through the air like an electric charge. You motion for the students to stay back, your instincts already kicking into overdrive. The higher-grade sorcerers are moving toward the front of the school in unison, their expressions grim. It’s Gojo’s expression that catches your eye. He’s upset— angered, even. It’s not often he shows those emotions and so you follow, your heart hammering in your chest.

When you reach the entrance, the sight awaiting you sends a chill down your spine. Suguru Geto stands at the gates of Jujutsu High, flanked by members of his cult. His presence is overwhelming, his aura darker and more oppressive than you’ve ever felt. He’s smiling, but it’s a cold, calculated thing, devoid of the warmth you once knew.

“I’m here to declare war,” he announces, his voice echoing across the courtyard. The gathered sorcerers bristle, their hands instinctively going to their weapons. “In one week… one thousand curses will be unleashed across Japan. This is the beginning of a new era.”

You step forward before you can stop yourself, breaking through the line of sorcerers in the front, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and heartbreak. “Suguru, stop this! You don’t have to do this! Please, this isn’t the way!”

His gaze lands on you, and for a moment, something flickers in his eyes—a fleeting shadow of the boy you once knew. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a steely resolve. You muster up the courage to say the one thing you think will reign him back in and it’s spewing from your mouth immediately. “We have a ki—”

“This is the only way,” he interrupts, his tone final. He turns his back to you, his voice ringing out one last time as he walks away. “Until we meet again.”

You’re standing there, your heart ablaze with anger and hurt. The weight of this betrayal feels heavier than ever, and yet, a small, stubborn part of you still hopes that he’ll come back. That he’ll choose you over whatever darkness has consumed him. That he’ll realize that you can both be happy being jujutsu sorcerers so long as you have each other.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

The battle a week later is chaos. The air is thick with cursed energy, the clash of sorcerers and curses echoing like thunder. You’re on the frontlines, fighting alongside your comrades, but your mind is elsewhere. When you hear the news that Suguru has been defeated by Yuta Okkotsu, your heart sinks. You don’t know what to feel—relief, sorrow, or something in between.

An hour later, you’re pulled from the battlefield by Satoru. He doesn’t explain much, simply grabbing your arm and teleporting you to an alley shrouded in shadows. Your breath catches in your throat as you see Suguru lying there, his body torn apart and blood pooling beneath him. The sight of him steals the air from your lungs.

“I thought you’d want to say goodbye,” Satoru says quietly before stepping back, giving you space.

You drop to your knees beside Suguru, your hands trembling as you reach for him. His eyes flutter open at the sound of your voice, and he smiles faintly, the edges of his lips tinged with pain. “Hey,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.

Tears blur your vision as you cradle his face in your shaky hands. “Why?” you whisper, your voice cracking. “Why did you have to do this?”

“I told you,” he rasps, each word a struggle. “I did it for us. So we wouldn’t have to fight anymore. I thought… I thought I could make a better world for you.”

“You didn’t have to do it alone,” you say, your tears falling freely now. “We could have figured it out together. Like you promised.”

He smiles again, softer this time. “We would have died trying. And she needs at least one parent.”

“Sh—” your throat closes up. “She? You know abou—”

“O’course I do. Who d’you think was giving her those lollipops you get onto her about, hm?” He musters up a weak chuckle, blood spurting out of his mouth, staining his lips.

“You…” you trail off, not knowing what to say. Not wanting to say goodbye.

“I’ve always kept my promise, you know. I love you. Until the end.” He murmurs. You can see the light fading and you want to will him to stay, to fight harder, but you can’t. You know it’ll end like this one way or another.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I love you. I’m so sorry, baby, I— I love you, please.” You cry, closing your eyes and pressing your forehead to his. His hand brushes against yours one last time as if to reassure you before it falls limp. 

The world around you seems to still, the weight of his absence pressing down on your chest like a physical thing. You sob uncontrollably, pressing kisses to his pale face, closing his eyes, and apologizing again and again. If only you hadn't questioned your place in the world as sorcerers all those years ago, if only you’d tried harder to convince him, if only you’d captured him when he showed up to you. He’d still be alive. You don’t know how long you sit there, holding him, but when Gojo finally pulls you away, you feel like a part of you is being ripped away with him.

As you’re taken from the alley, the echo of his final words lingers in your mind. Despite everything, despite the pain and the loss, you know one thing for certain: you will always love him. Until the end.