#I’ve been really trying to get back into writing

[ggukivrse]

just this once | jjk

summary. when you complain to jungkook about your lack of action in the past year, you're not really asking for a solution. but when he casually offers to help, you just can't seem to bring yourself to say no.

after all, what's the worst that could happen in hooking up just this once?

pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader

genre: friends to lovers, smut, fluff (?)

word count: 5.1k

warnings: you’re gonna get sick of the title loll, brief alcohol consumption, this is lowkey pwp (there will be more plot soon i promise) swearing, explicit sexual content, kissing, making out, fingering, oral (m. receiving), he’s very cocky but also pathetic, multiple orgasms, lots of banter and teasing as dirty talk, petnames (baby), jk calls oc a brat x2, multiple positions, insinuated aftercare, let me know if i missed anything!

notes: you guys built this fic!! this was supposed to be out on thursday but i realised i was being wayy to ambitious cuz i definitely needed more than two days to write this loll. but alas, it’s here :3 as always, likes, comments, reblogs, feedback and asks are very appreciated! enjoy reading angels <33

ps. THERE WILL BE A PART TWO!!

⌗ masterlist. ⌗ taglist. ⌗ feedback

You fumble with your keys, swaying just slightly as you try to jab the right one into the lock. Behind you, Jungkook’s laughing under his breath, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath on the back of your neck.

“Need help?” he asks, the amusement in his voice unmistakable.

“I’ve got it,” you say, jabbing the key with exaggerated precision. The door finally clicks open, and you push it in with a triumphant, “Ha!”

“You’re so competent,” he deadpans, clapping a mock applause as he follows you in. His shoulder bumps yours as he passes. “It’s honestly inspiring.”

You kick off your shoes, tossing your keys into the bowl by the door. “And you’re so annoying,” you mutter, but there’s no heat in it.

Jungkook drops onto your couch like it’s his own, sprawling out like he owns the place. Which, in some ways, he kind of does.

A hoodie of his is already slung over the back of a kitchen chair, from some night two weeks ago when he stayed too late and decided not to drive home. There’s an energy drink in your fridge with his name written on the lid in Sharpie. The blanket he’s tugging over his lap? That’s the one he gifted you for Christmas, mostly so he could use it whenever he came over.

It’s always been like this.

He tosses his denim jacket on the couch as you grab two bottles of water from the fridge, chucking one to him without warning. He catches it with the ease.

“You were definitely flirting with that bartender,” he says, unscrewing the cap and looking at you with that maddeningly smug smile.

You scoff. “He had a mullet and called me ‘miss.’ It wasn’t flirting— it was survival.”

“Sure,” he says, nodding like he totally believes you. “That’s why you laughed at everything he said, even when he asked if you liked your tequila neat.”

“It was neat!” you say, defensive and laughing at the same time. “And besides, you flirted with the girl in the fishnets for, like, an hour.”

He shrugs. “Guilty. She had good taste in music. And thighs.”

You groan and flop down beside him on the couch, letting your head fall back against the cushion. Your thigh brushes his, but you don’t move. Neither does he. The buzz from the party is still warm in your blood, and the apartment feels too quiet now — too intimate without the noise and lights and other bodies.

“You ever think we’re just... really bad at dating?” you ask, staring at the ceiling.

“Constantly,” Jungkook says, without hesitation.

You glance at him. “Like, maybe we peaked in college.”

He makes a face. “Don’t say that. I refuse to believe my best years happened while I was still eating instant ramen and failing comp sci.”

You laugh, and he turns his head toward you, watching you with that soft-eyed expression you know too well. There’s something about Jungkook when he’s like this — no bravado, no teasing smirk, just... present. His hair is a mess from the wind, and a dark tank top hugs his figure.

He’s too comfortable here. Too familiar.

“I genuinely think I’ve forgotten what a good kiss feels like,” you say, mostly to the ceiling, like it’s a throwaway thought.

Jungkook hums. “That bad, huh?”

“It’s not even bad, it’s just...” You trail off, searching for the word. “Empty. Mechanical. Like everyone’s going through the motions, but nobody’s actually there.”

He shifts slightly, angling his body more toward you. “So no decent kissers at all lately?”

You shake your head. “No decent anything, if I’m honest.”

He raises an eyebrow, curious.

You hesitate, but the alcohol in your system makes it easier to say what you probably wouldn’t sober. “I haven’t slept with anyone in like... almost a year.”

Jungkook blinks, not in judgment, just surprised. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” You rub at your temple with a laugh. “I didn’t plan it or anything. It just kind of... kept not happening. And then it became this weird streak, and now here we are.”

He’s quiet for a moment.

“Well,” he says eventually, “maybe your standards are just too high.”

“Or maybe men are just mid,” you shoot back.

That gets a laugh out of him, loud and bright. He tips his head back, and you watch his throat move as he laughs. Too long. Too hard. When he calms down, he gives you a look — something mischievous that you've grown to know too well over the years.

"What?" you ask, narrowing your eyes at him with a smile.

He shrugs. “I mean... I could help."

“With my standards?”

“With the streak.”

You snort. “What, you offering?”

“Maybe.”

You tilt your head. “So what? You wanna bang it out?”

It’s meant to be funny. You’re grinning when you say it. But when you look at him — really look — he’s not laughing.

His gaze lingers on your mouth for a beat too long. Then his eyes flick up to yours.

“Just this once?” he asks, voice low. Careful. Like he’s giving you an out.

You don’t answer right away. The room goes still. The hum of the fridge feels too loud. His eyes are still on you, and it’s not a look you’ve ever seen from him before.

Your heart stutters in your chest.

You swallow. “Wouldn't it be weird?”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t look away.

“Only if we let it be.”

You sit there for a second, the weight of it all hitting a little too fast. Your brain’s still catching up to your mouth, to the way your body’s buzzing — not from the alcohol anymore, but from him. From the heat in his eyes, the way he said it — almost like a dare.

And then his expression shifts.

His eyes flick away, and his tongue runs over the silver ring on his bottom lip, like he’s pulling it back, reeling it in.

“Only if you want to, obviously,” he says, quieter this time. “We don’t have to.”

He starts to lean back like he's resetting the mood — like this moment can still be folded back into the safety of your usual teasing — but you stop him.

You move first.

You grab the front of his tank top — not hard, not dramatic, just enough — and you pull him in.

You kiss him.

It’s abrupt. Heat over hesitation. A split-second decision that tastes like tequila and impulse, like comfort and fuck it all wrapped up in the same breath.

At first, he doesn’t move, frozen in surprise. But then he kisses you back — really kisses you back — and suddenly you're not thinking anymore.

His hand slides to your thigh, just enough pressure to ground you, and you shift toward him instinctively, knees brushing his. His mouth moves against yours with a kind of focused laziness, like he’s savouring it. Like he’s trying to figure out exactly how you taste.

You pull back half a second, just to breathe, lips brushing his as you mutter, “Took you long enough.”

He laughs into your mouth, low and smug. “You kissed me.”

“Yeah, well. You looked like you were gonna bail.”

“I was being respectful,” he says, voice muffled against your jaw as he starts kissing along it. “But sure, let’s call it bailing.”

You gasp a little when he nips at your neck, just enough pressure to make you arch toward him. Your hands slide under his top, fingers skimming the warm skin of his back, and he shivers under your touch.

“Jesus,” you murmur. “How are you this built? You eat, like, gas station snacks and leftover noodles.”

“I work out,” he mutters between kisses, grinning as he drags his mouth back to yours. “Also, you’ve seen me shirtless.”

“Yeah, but not like this.”

“Like what?”

You tug him closer until your chest presses to his. “Like I get to touch.”

That shuts him up real quick.

He kisses you again, this time more urgently, and you feel the change in the air — less teasing, more want. Your legs shift to straddle his lap without thinking, your hands sliding up into his hair, tugging just a little.

He groans, deep and rough, biting down on your bottom lip before kissing it better. You rock your hips forward slightly and he bucks up into you with a hiss.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he mutters, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.

You smirk against his mouth. “You offered, remember?”

“Yeah, and I’m rapidly realising that was a dangerous choice.”

You laugh, breathless, before kissing him again. He tastes like beer and something sweeter — probably the gum he always chews. You bite his lip and feel him groan into your mouth, hips jerking beneath you.

His fingers slip under your shirt, warm on your skin. Not rushed, just exploring — like he’s been curious for a while and is finally allowed to look.

You roll your hips again, slower this time, and his head drops back against the cushion with a low fuck that makes your stomach flip.

“You still sure about this?” you ask, teasing, as your hands drag down his chest, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.

His eyes open — dark, focused, amused.

“You gonna stop me if I say no?”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

“Then yeah,” he says, breath hitching as your fingers reach his abdomen. “I’m very sure.”

He catches your fingers before you can finish unbuttoning his jeans.

You raise a brow, breath still uneven. “Seriously?”

He nods, steady, calm in a way that only makes your pulse pound harder. “I said I was helping you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but I thought that was like... a mutual helping situation.”

His mouth twitches. “You always gotta argue when I’m trying to do something nice?”

You open your mouth to throw something back — something biting, something stupid — but he leans in and kisses you before you can get the words out. One hand still wrapped around your wrist, the other cupping your jaw.

He pulls back just enough to speak.

“Let me take care of you.”

You stare at him for a beat, heart kicking hard in your chest.

“Fine,” you mutter, trying to sound unbothered. “But don't expect any thank yous or shit.”

“I’ll survive,” he says, already smirking as his fingers work at your jeans. “Though, for the record, I think you’re gonna want to.”

You snort — right before he pops the button of your jeans and drags the zipper down, knuckles brushing your skin. You shiver.

“God, you’re cocky.”

He glances up, eyes flicking to yours. “You saying I haven’t earned it?”

You don’t answer. Your breath stutters when his hand slips beneath the waistband of your panties, palm flush against you.

He stills.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, voice dropping. “You’re wet already?”

“Shut up.”

He smiles cockily.

You roll your eyes — try to, anyway — but your thighs are already parting, your body moving without conscious thought. His fingers slide into you, testing the waters, and your head tips back with a soft sigh.

He watches your face like he’s waiting for something. When your mouth parts, when your hips twitch toward his hand, that’s when he moves.

His thumb finds your bud and he's gentle at first. Circling, then rubbing just a little firmer. You bite your lip hard, trying not to give him the satisfaction of the noises building in your throat.

“Still not thanking you,” you say through clenched teeth.

“Oh, you will,” he says, low. “Eventually.”

You glare at him. He grins back, fingers dragging lower, slipping in without resistance. You suck in a breath, and he laughs softly under it.

“Okay?” he asks, suddenly serious again.

You nod, maybe too quickly. “Yeah. More than okay.”

He starts moving his fingers — slow at first, too slow. Like he’s enjoying making you wait. You squirm, trying to rock your hips into his hand, but he tightens his grip on your thigh.

“Nuh-uh,” he says, eyes gleaming. “You’re letting me do the work, remember?”

“I hate you.”

“You’re literally grinding on my hand right now.”

You reach out blindly and smack his chest. He doesn’t even flinch — just slips another finger in, and your breath catches so hard it punches the air from your lungs.

“There it is,” he murmurs.

His thumb picks up a rhythm again, and the pressure starts to build fast. He knows it, too. His free hand slides around your waist, steadying you as your body starts to shake. Your fist curls into the soft fabric of his top, needing something to hold onto.

“Still hate me?” he asks, voice rougher now, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

“Don’t flatter yourself— fuck—”

“Yeah?” His fingers curl just right, and your whole body tenses. “Right there?”

You nod, desperate, eyes squeezed shut. Your thighs are shaking. You’re so close you can’t even keep up the bit.

“Say it,” he says.

“Say what?”

“Tell me how good I make you feel.”

You groan. “Jesus, Jungkook—”

He slows down suddenly, barely moving his hand.

You whine. Actually whine.

“That’s not what I asked for.”

“God, you’re annoying,” you say, breathless.

He grins. “You're the one being the brat here.”

You drag your eyes open and glare at him, but it’s all heat now. All want. You lean in close, lips pressing against his.

"Fuck— fine. You feel so fucking good, Kook. Please, just don't stop."

He doesn’t.

He kisses you hard and fast, and his fingers start again, slick and firm and relentless. Your body clenches around him and this time, you don’t even try to hold the sounds back. His name leaves your mouth like muscle memory, and he groans into your kiss, like he’s the one coming undone.

When you break the kiss to suck in air, he presses his forehead to yours, voice rough in your ear.

“That’s it. Let go for me.”

You do.

Your body arches, thighs trembling as the orgasm washes over you sharp and fast. Your fingers dig into his back, into his top, into anything that keeps you tethered.

He doesn’t stop until you’re gasping, twitching, pushing his hand away because you’re too sensitive now.

He pulls back finally, breath warm against your skin, his fingers wet. He looks at you, gaze heavy, lips parted.

Then, without a word, he brings his fingers to your mouth.

“Open,” he says, low and steady.

You blink at him, your body still humming, brain half-melted. “What—?”

He brushes two slick fingers against your bottom lip, and your mouth parts on instinct.

“You said no thank yous,” he says, smirking. “So this’ll do.”

You glare at him, but your lips close around his fingers anyway. He watches every second — the way your mouth wraps around them, the way your tongue slides against the pads. His expression flickers from cocky to wrecked.

“Shit,” he mutters, voice rough now, the smugness cracking around the edges.

You suck once, slow and purposeful, eyes locked on his, and he jerks slightly under you — hips twitching like your mouth is on him instead. When you pull off with a soft pop, your lips are swollen and wet.

“You said mutual help,” you murmur, breath still catching on the end of every word. “It’s your turn.”

He blinks, like he’s short-circuiting.

You slide off his lap slowly, hands dragging down his chest, and his breath catches when you settle between his legs on your knees. You palm him over his jeans, and he hisses, already hard under your touch.

“Fuck,” he mutters, head tipping back.

“You okay there?” you ask, voice sweet, taunting. “Or do you need me to go slower?”

He looks down at you, pupils blown, jaw clenched. “Don’t be a brat.”

You unbutton his jeans, real slow, enjoying the way he twitches under your hands. “No promises.”

You drag the zipper down, tugging his jeans and boxers low enough to free him. He’s flushed and heavy, tip already glistening, and you swear you see his hips flex at just the sight of your mouth this close.

“Holy shit,” he breathes. “You look way too good down there.”

You wrap your hand around his cock, giving one slow stroke, and he groans like it surprises him.

You start slow. Just your hand. Thumb brushing over the sensitive ridge under the head, watching his thighs tense beneath your touch. His head drops back against the couch cushion, and you feel the way his hips subtly shift toward you, like his body’s trying to chase more without him even realising it.

You lean in and lick a slow stripe from base to tip, tongue flat, deliberate. His breath catches — then shudders out of him like you’ve knocked the air from his lungs.

“Shit,” he mutters again, voice strained.

You hum like you agree, and wrap your lips around the head, just barely. You suck, not hard — just enough to make him twitch. Your hand works in tandem, slow, steady strokes, and your mouth follows, inching lower until the tip presses against the back of your throat.

He moans, raw and wrecked. “Fuck, baby—”

The pet name is barely more than a gasp, almost like it slipped out without permission. Your stomach flips at the sound it.

His voice borders on the line of sounding pathetic, and it makes you want to press your thighs together.

You fall into rhythm — your lips sliding over him, tongue pressed firm underneath, hand twisting where your mouth leaves off. Every now and then, you let yourself get sloppy. Let the sound of it echo between you, let him hear what he’s doing to you.

He’s falling apart above you. You can tell by the way his hand flexes and releases in your hair, the way his thighs tremble every time you sink a little deeper. He’s breathing hard now, jaw slack, eyes barely open. Watching you. Like he still can’t believe this is real.

“God, your mouth—” His voice cuts off into a moan when you swallow around him, deep and slow. "You're gonna be the death of me."

You pull off just long enough to breathe, lips slick, chin wet. “You deserve it.”

He laughs, but it breaks halfway through. Your hand doesn’t stop moving.

“You like watching me fall apart, huh?”

You look up through your lashes, tongue flicking over the head. “More than a little.”

You go back down — deeper this time — and he chokes on a groan. His hips jerk up too sharply and he curses, hands fisting hard in your hair.

“Shit— I’m—” He’s panting now, thighs shaking. “I’m not gonna last if you keep— fuck, don’t—”

You suck harder, then moan around him just to hear the sound he makes. It’s almost a whimper.

“Baby, stop— wait— fuck— please—”

You pull off with a wet pop just before he tips over the edge, lips red and swollen, saliva clinging to your chin. He’s barely keeping it together. Chest heaving, flushed to the neck, cock twitching where it rests against his stomach.

“You were right there,” you say, feigning innocence, voice soft and ruined.

“Exactly," he says, sitting up. "I'm not done with you yet."

He drags the fabric of his top over his head, tossing it aside without a second thought. The moment it’s off, your breath catches.

Fuck.

He’s all golden skin and sharp lines, chest heaving, abs flexing with every breath. His tattoos curl over his shoulder and down his arm, black ink stark against flushed skin. His cock’s still hard, flushed dark, resting against his stomach, twitching when he sees the way you’re looking at him.

And you — still kneeling between his legs — can’t look away.

Then you rise, shaky but determined, and pull your top over your head, letting it fall. His eyes snap to your chest, lips parting like he’s just been punched in the gut. You're movements are purposefully slow as you pull down your jeans, then your panties.

“Jesus,” he mutters, eyes dragging down your body. “You’re a fucking dream.”

You crawl back into his lap, your bare skin meeting his, and the contact makes both of you gasp. You straddle him, knees on either side of his thighs, and he groans the moment your heat presses against his cock.

He fumbles for a condom, pulling it out from an inner pocket in the jacket he’d draped onto the couch earlier.

You watch as he tears it open and rolls it on, fingers practiced but tense. You reach between your bodies, guiding him to your entrance, and the second his tip slides against your soaked folds, his grip tightens on your hips.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice shaking.

You sink down slowly, inch by thick inch, and your nails bite into his shoulders as you stretch around him. He’s big — your pussy gripping him tight, wet and pulsing as he fills you up. Every nerve lights up, every breath gets harder to catch.

“Holy fuck—” His head drops to your chest, groaning against your skin. “You’re so tight. So fucking warm. Gonna make me lose it.”

You whimper as you bottom out, walls fluttering around him. You can feel every vein, every twitch. It’s almost too much. Almost.

But not enough.

You start to move — slow, dragging lifts of your hips, circling them on the way back down. He watches, hands clamped on your ass, guiding the grind of your body like he already knows how to make you fall apart again.

You ride him, pace picking up fast, desperate. Every time your hips drop, the base of his cock grinds against your clit, slick sounds filling the room with every slap of skin against skin. His cock hits deep, stretching you wide, and a moan passes your lips.

He groans are low and guttural, eyes locked to where your bodies meet. “Goddamn, baby. Watching you fuck yourself on my cock— shit— never gonna forget this.”

You’re panting now, thighs burning, rhythm faltering. You try to keep going, but your legs are shaking.

He notices.

Without a word, he shifts under you, plants his feet flat on the floor, and grabs your hips tight.

“Let me help you, yeah?”

You nod. “Please.”

He starts thrusting up into you.

You cry out, spine arching, hands flying to his shoulders to hold on as he fucks you from underneath, sharp and deep. His hips snap up into you, cock pressing into your sweet spot over and over again.

The new angle is obscene. Filthy.

“Fuck, Jungkook— holy shit—”

He smirks up at you, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. “That’s it. Take it, baby. Look at you— so cockdrunk already.”

Your pussy clenches around him, soaked and messy, and the sound of it is downright pornographic. His balls slap against your ass with every brutal thrust, and you can’t even think anymore. Just feel.

Your head falls back, hips rocking with his. “W-we’re still best friends, right, Kook?”

His rhythm stutters, hips slamming up too hard, too deep, and his jaw drops slightly like he’s not sure if he actually heard you right. His pupils are blown, face flushed, and he stares at you like you just kicked the last brain cell out of his skull.

“What the fuck,” he pants. “You can’t say that. Not when I’m— fuck— inside you.”

You whimper, walls clenching around him like your body’s reacting to how wrecked he sounds.

“That’s so fucked up,” he mutters, almost to himself. “Say it again and I might actually come on the spot.”

You huff out a weak laugh at that, hands tangling in his hair, and he groans, fucking you harder, deeper — like he needs to wipe the thought of friendship off your brain with every snap of his hips.

“Y-Yeah,” you gasp. “So close, fuck— don’t stop—”

He doesn’t. One hand slips between your bodies, fingers rubbing tight, fast circles over your clit while he pounds into you. You sob his name, hips stuttering, body locking up.

“Come on,” he grits out. “Wanna feel you squeeze me.”

That’s all it takes.

You break with a cry, body clamping down around him as your orgasm hits like a fucking freight train. Your pussy pulses around his cock, milking him, soaking him, your whole body shuddering with the force of it.

He slows just a little — just enough to let you ride it out — but he doesn’t pull out. He’s still hard inside you, jaw tight, eyes blown wide.

You collapse forward, panting into his neck, spent.

His hands slide down your spine, warm and possessive. “You good?”

You nod, still breathless. “Yeah. Jesus.”

"Good." He swiftly lifts you off him just enough to slip out, and you whimper at the sudden emptiness. But he doesn’t give you time to think.

He shifts, guiding you onto your back, his body following yours down to the couch. His hands frame your face as he settles between your legs, and when he presses back into you — thick and hard.

His eyes roam over you like he’s never seen anything more obscene or more beautiful. Your lips are swollen, parted in a messy moan. There’s a faint smudge of mascara under one eye from when you’d cried out his name, and your skin’s glowing — sweaty, flushed, wrecked.

“You’re so pretty like this,” he says, voice gone rough. “All fucked out for me.”

You pull him down into a kiss before you can think. It’s open-mouthed, greedy, teeth clashing a little. His hips start to move again, slow at first — long, deep thrusts that make your breath catch every time he bottoms out.

You wrap your legs around his waist, heels digging into his back to pull him deeper. His chest brushes yours, sticky skin against sticky skin, and your nails rake down his back.

He gasps into your mouth. “Fuck—”

“More,” you breathe, nails dragging again, leaving angry red lines down the muscle of his back. “Please.”

His hips snap harder, pace picking up again. He braces one hand beside your head and the other slides up your thigh, gripping tight enough to bruise. Your body rocks with every thrust, his cock slamming into you, the slap of his hips against yours louder now.

“You feel that?” he grits out, forehead pressed to yours, sweat dripping down his temple. “How tight you are around me? Fuck— I’m so deep, baby, you’re taking me so fucking good.”

You moan loud at his words, head falling back against the cushions.

He kisses down your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breast — open-mouthed, wet kisses that make your skin burn. Then he’s back at your mouth, kissing you like it’s the only way he knows how to breathe.

He watches you with the kind of hunger that makes your stomach flip, watching how your brows pinch, how your mouth trembles, how you twitch around him with every stroke like you’re on the edge all over again.

And fuck, you are.

“Touch me,” you gasp, voice raw. “Kook, please—”

His fingers snake down your stomach, rubbing tight, perfect circles against your clit, synced with the rhythm of his thrusts. You cry out, thighs shaking around his waist, and he just watches — eyes dark and wild, like he can’t believe what he’s doing to you.

You clench hard around him, and he curses, slamming into you deeper, grinding at the end of each stroke.

“Gonna come again?” he pants. “Wanna come on my cock like that, baby? Let me feel you soak me?”

You’re nodding before he finishes, tears prickling in your eyes from how fucking intense it is. “Yes— yes, fuck, don’t stop—”

He kisses you as you fall apart — moaning into your mouth, swallowing every sound. You come again, whole body seizing around him. Your nails dig in, and he hisses at the pain, thrusting through it, fucking you right through the high.

When it ebbs, your body goes limp under him, chest heaving, lips swollen, slick dripping between your thighs.

Jungkook fucks into you again — slow, deep, like he’s trying to memorise the feel of you pulsing around him. His breath stutters, muscles drawn tight, every thrust rougher than the last.

“I’m not gonna last,” he pants, voice wrecked.

You bring your hands up to his hair, lightly tugging at his locks as you whisper, “Wanna feel you.”

He chokes on a moan, slamming into you one final time as he comes hard, cock twitching deep inside as he fills the condom.

His arms shake, muscles locked tight, and his face is buried in your neck as he rides it out, breath ragged, skin flushed and burning. You feel every pulse of it, every tremble in his frame, and all you can do is hold him there — legs wrapped tight around his waist, arms tangled around his shoulders, your nails still leaving stinging trails across his skin.

He presses kisses against your neck and jaw, eventually trailing up to your lips before pulling back to just look at you.

"I— you're perfect."

You smile, a familiar warmth enveloping your cheeks. "Yeah, yeah, you can stop with the flattery."

But he doesn’t smile back right away. He just watches you, quiet. Like he’s still catching up to the weight of what just happened. What’s still happening.

His hand drifts to your waist, thumb brushing lazily over your damp skin. “Let me run you a bath.”

You blink. “A bath?”

He nods, lips brushing your temple. “Yeah. You’re shaky. And I kinda wrecked you.”

You snort, catching the smugness in his voice. “What happened to, ‘Shit, baby, if you don’t stop I’m gonna come down your throat’?”

He groans, laughing. “Okay, first of all— rude. Second, I don’t sound like that.”

“Mm, you definitely do.”

He pinches your side lightly. “Keep talking, I’ll re-enact it right now.”

You shut up. But you’re smiling.

He stands a moment later, disappearing into the bathroom. You hear the water running, the soft clatter of bottles, his voice humming something low and familiar.

When he comes back, he tosses you a towel and holds out a hand, that same easy smile on his face. The one you’ve known forever. The one that makes everything feel… normal.

Even now.

You lace your fingers with his, let him pull you up.

Your legs are jelly. His hand doesn’t let go.

And as you follow him into the bathroom, skin still marked by his touch, lips still swollen from his kiss, a quiet thought flickers at the edge of your mind.

You guys were still best friends.

Right?

→ read part two here (coming soon — join the taglist for ‘just this… twice?’ to be notified when part two releases)

taglist | click here to join: @thegreatdepressionme @golden-loona @kissyfacekoo @cookysstuff @whoa-jo @minghaosimp

[pieandflannel]

₊˚⊹♡ body swap pt.3 👥

₊⊹ ʚ ₊⊹｡ ⋆ ˚ ⋆ ｡˚ ₊⊹｡ ₊⊹ ୨♡୧ ⊹₊ ｡⊹₊ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ˚ ⋆ ｡⊹₊ ɞ ⊹₊

pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader

summary: your and dean’s curiosity gets the best of you, leading to some unholy bedroom tings.

cw: 18+ smut, pwp, filthy asf, sex toy play, cowgirl, missionary, unprotected p in v & creampie (wrap it up silly), language, teasing/mocking, slight praise, sub!dean, shy!dean. not really proof read. you’ve been warned.

word count: 2347 (this is the most I’ve written on tumblr yet whoop whoop)

julia yaps: a shower is needed after writing this thanks to yall pervy lil fucks (jk i luv uuuu) hope you enjoyyy <3

check out part one & part two

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“i see curiosity got the best of you… need some help with that?” you offered with a smirk as you stepped closer and closer to the bed. eyeing your own body that dean was occupying. you weren’t going to lie, seeing yourself sprawled out like that, in such a.. pathetic way had you feeling some type of way, was that the dean brain talking? it’s not like you cared at the moment really. right now your main focus was to show dean just how fun the bunny toy can be.

”y/n i can explain..” dean panicked as you walked closer, he knew he did bad by invading your privacy, but you weren’t going to scold him, after all you did play with his dick like ten minutes ago.

“shh it’s okay you don’t need to explain” you sat down on one side of your bed, your fingers lingering above his inner thigh, his breath hitching at the gentle contact.

“give me the toy, come on, don’t be shy” you spoke in a slow and soft but dominant tone. dean with slight hesitation passed the toy over to you, as the vibrator came in contact with your hand, a devilish smirk grew on your face.

you kicked your slippers off and got more comfortable on the bed, “open your legs for me” you commanded and dean surprisingly obeyed, shyly opening his legs enough for you to check out the beauty in between. for the first time you were honestly feeling proud of your own body, shame it had to take a god damn body swap hex for you to open your eyes that you looked like a sex bomb.

“now i’m going to insert it and turn it on, so don’t get startled okay?” you explained to him before circling the tip of the toy around the clit. dean let out a shaky breath, his eyes dilated from arousal.

you slowly slid the tip up and down between the folds, spreading the glistening wetness all around. come on, you had to mess with him a bit, he’s gotta see what it is like to be an owner of a clit. you could tell dean became impatient, his hips bucking up slightly every time the tip got close to the entrance. you couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle. “someone’s needy” you mocked.

“shut up” he spoke back in a mumble.

“now now, that’s no way to talk to someone that wants to help you feel good now is it?” you cooed at him. gently pushing the tip of the toy in the entrance before pulling out, and repeating it until he let out a desperate whine. god teasing him was so fun.

“you really want to try this out don’t you?” you let out a chuckle, honestly a little surprised at dean’s curiosity, but you don’t really blame him. dean looked absolutely pathetic when he gave you the doe eyes and a nod. god he was so breedable like this.

you slowly pushed the toy inside him, he let out a soft whimper as he felt the toy stretch him out. you didn’t wait long after that to switch the toy on, he let out a sharp gasp, gripping the bedsheets. you couldn’t help but smirk at his reaction, so pathetic and breedable for someone that claims to be a big scary hunter.

you gently moved the toy in and out, the bunny ears rubbing the clit in such a way you had him moaning, head tilted back. he definitely flicked the bean before this, there is no way he’s this sensitive simply because. that little whore.

his hips grind against the toy as whimpery moans continued to fly out his mouth, fuck you could feel your dick twitching in your pants at his little reactions. he was squirming around the bed and whining under his breath. how could you not get hard from that right?

“there’s my good boy, you’re doing great” you praised him as you turned the toy onto a higher mode. his legs began to shake, his back arching. “oh god, f-fuck” he moaned, closing his eyes as the pleasure intensified. knuckles turning white from his harsh grip on the bed sheet.

you knew your body well enough to know when you’d get close, so when you felt him getting close, you turned the toy off and stopped pumping.

leaving him on the edge, whining and crying. “oh come on~ please i was so close” he begged, his walls pulsing around the toy.

“oh i know you were, it is my body after all” you chuckled, pulling the toy out and putting it away to the side and casually positioning yourself between his legs.

“but how bout we.. yknow-” you looked down at his swollen clit and lips. your cock was already hard again, restrained in the pjs. “-make this interesting”

dean looked up at you with slight wide eye at your suggestion, but damn he wasn’t going to lie that the offer wasn’t tempting as hell. i mean it’s not like it’ll hurt anyone right? both of you are consenting adults, though in each others bodies, but still, consenting. and curious.

“well if you’re okay with it, so am i” dean replied honestly. you were glad he was on board with this, this situation was lowkey fucked up but at least you were in this together.

he cleared his throat, “um..why don’t you lay down and-“

“you want to ride me?” you interrupted him with a little smirk on your face. dean wasn’t used to being this flustered, but you brought that out of him right now, especially when it was easier while being in his body.

“could you not– j-just shut up… yes, yes okay?” a blush forming on his cheeks as he couldn’t form his answer without stuttering like the shy little girl he currently was.

“just lay down will you?” he mumbled as he pushed you to lay down, your back hitting the mattress. all you could really do was smirk, oh you were so going to enjoy this.

the bulge in your pants was evident, dean couldn’t help but look down at you with a shaky breath. “what’s the matter sweet cheeks? you nervous?” you teased him, resting your hands behind your head with a smug expression, getting a small glare from him.

his fingers hooking at the waistband of your pants and pulling them down, you lift your hips to help him take them off. “this is so weird..” he mumbled, a cute rosey shade on his cheeks.

“only if you make it weird” you shrugged, but you were right. it would only be weird if the both of you decided that it is. but you two have been through some real weird ass shit, so this is literally nothing.

as your pants were off and dick was out, dean’s eyes widened a bit as he had a first class third person view of his dick. you noticed his smug little smirk in the corner of his lips, clearly proud of himself. “i must say, you do have a nice cock” your words make him look up into your eyes.

“you couldn’t help yourself could you?” dean asked with a small amused smirk. you just grinned and shrugged.

he took a deep breath before climbing on top of you, taking your cock and aligning it at his entrance. he looked down into your eyes, looking for any signs of hesitation or doubt. “wait wait wait” you spoke, making him freeze in his tracks. did you change your mind? shit he made it weird didn’t he?

“dean is this your first time having sex?” you jokingly asked him as you passed him the bottle of lube. “even when you’re wet, lube is your friend”

dean let out a relieved sigh, grabbing the bottle and squirting a good amount on your dick, gently lathering it up with his hand. your breath shook at the sudden slow motion of his hand. “feels nice huh?” he asked with a smirk, purposely gripping your cock a bit tighter as he spread the lube all over your shaft. your mouth flew open as you let out a shaky breath. it did feel good, shit it felt great. and you wanted more.

“fuck, just sit on it already” you spoke out in a direct tone. dean chuckled at your impatience but he also couldn’t wait much longer. he positioned you at his entrance yet again, hand sticky with lube, slowly he sank down on your cock.

your toy looking so silly right now comparing to the girthiness of the cock, dean let out a soft moan as his walls stretched out nicely, feeling himself wrap around you. both of you cursed under your breath. the new sensation feeling oddly refreshing.

your hands rested on his waist as you looked up into his eyes, lips parted slightly. you gently started guiding dean’s hips, making him grind and ride you, the wet squelching sounds softly echoing in the room every time he sank back down on your cock. “oh wow..” the both of you managed to say almost in sync.

dean’s pace picking up in no time, both your hips in rhythm with each other. the constant exchange of moans and whimpers could probably be heard from the closed bedroom door. your grip on his hips tightening as he let his hands rest on your chest.

one of your hands found it’s way between his legs, your thumb flicking and circling at the clit, adding the extra something to dean’s experience. he threw his head back as sparks of pleasure rush through his body. “you like that?” you smirked, continuing to play with the clit making him lose his rhythm, thighs starting to shake. “aww too much for lil dean to handle?” you cooed at him.

“alright then, my turn” you spoke before lifting him up with ease and flipping him over, it was so fun having dean’s strength. you wasted no time, towering over him and positioned yourself between his legs, aligning yourself at the entrance and sliding back in with ease.

you rolled your hips slowly, thrusting in and out, firstly trying to figure out a good pace. dean wrapped his arms around your neck, pulling you closer, and kissing you in the heat of the moment, but holy shit was it amazing. you and him kissing as you’re inside of him. man was this fun.

your hips picked up the speed and you had him moaning into your mouth in no time, you on top of him, giving it to him raw. “i- i think i’m close” dean spoke as he pulled away from the kiss for some air. you grabbed him by the hair and tilted his head back, latching your lips onto his neck. “good” you growled against his skin. the animalistic need to mark him up awakening from deep inside you.

dean dug his nails into your back as you started to thrust at a brutal force. his legs wide open which helped you bury yourself balls deep inside him. “i’m close too” you whisper into his ear before biting and kissing his neck teasingly.

“you want me to pull out?” you asked, slightly panting at this point, it was quite a workout for your hips. “it’s your pussy you decide” he replied breathlessly.

“fuck, fine, do you wanna know how it feels to get creampied?” you rephrased the question. at first he was a bit speechless at your offer but he nodded eagerly without much thought. “yes”

his eagerness making you let out a chuckle, your thrusts becoming much more sloppier as you got closer to the edge. you fisted his hair again and gave his neck a lick where you left marks. but be assured, his nails left red marks all across your back, a little exchange you could call it.

your body tensed up and suddenly you felt a huge wave of pleasure crashing over you, leaving you moaning against his skin. you shot your load inside him and continued to pump yourself dry. he followed you right after as he felt the warm cum fill him up. a pretty white ring decorated your shaft every time you pulled out before pushing back in.

both your hips eventually stopped moving, heavy breathing coming from the both of you. you let your forehead rest against his, eyes closed as you came down from your high.

as the both of you catch your breath and open your eyes, you realised you were back in your own body, underneath him. as he was in his. “oh my god, dean we’re back in our bodies” you let out a sigh of relief with a smile.

the spell was broken.

dean looked down at you with a relieved smile himself. “guess all it took to break the spell was to have sex huh?” dean smirked. he sat up, finally back in his body. “see, sex solves everything” he added cockily.

his body still in between your legs, his cock buried deep inside you. the view was beautiful but he had to pull out. his white load leaking out as soon as he does so. “but you gotta admit it was fun” he raised his brow.

you giggled “yeah it was, no wonder guys jerk off so much” your words making him roll his eyes in a playful way.

for a long second there was silence. none of you spoke, just looked into each others eyes. stealing shy smiles.

“okay, why don’t we get you cleaned up?” he offered as he got up from the bed, pulling up his pants and getting some tissues from your nightstand.

“oh and um, nice piercings you got there by the way” dean couldn’t help himself from commenting on them, adding a cocky wink.

“might if i played with them from time to time?” he smirked.

“i fucking knew the first thing you’d do is check out my tits” you shook your head with an amused smile.

this was the last part! hope you enjoyed this mini series (if you can even call it that)

thank you so much for reading! feedback and reblogs are always deeply appreciated <3

tags: @jensino @emeraldcrs @soldiersgirl @jensenacklesballsack @missus-ackles @littlesoulshine @deanswifeyy @slut4jackles @h8aaz @bruisedfig @angelicjackles @losers-clvb @lyarr24 @cowboysandcigarettes @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @rositaslabyrinth @deanspookiebear @tinas111 @bejeweledinterludes @miss-marmalade @pinksatinpanties @multiversefanfics @cupidzbunny @heartrendercastiel @sunnyteume @mrsanakinwinchesterpoldark @krabog @that-stanford-girlie @pwin098 @twelveyearsofit

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[thatsunnyalien]

The only thing I feel like I should add, because me and my doc love to go rounds on this one, is if you’re writing your trauma into characters make sure to take time for your own self care.

I had a habit of writing thousands upon thousands of words between our appointments, when I used to go once a month. I had been doing really well before I started writing. The first time I talked about it with her I was shocked that she was upset. She tried to explain that I was touching my trauma so casually without self care and how that could hurt me.

I was mad because I thought I was okay, I was able to write it and get it out in a way I could look at it. I was so excited, thinking it was finally over. So, I ignored her advice. I thought I was doing okay but it wasn’t until a few appointments had passed that she realized I had stopped eating, sleeping, or any of the general “you should be doing this for your body” things. I lapsed on my health completely, returning to things that were putting me back on the path to hospitalization. I was paranoid, anxious, and so so tired. Things I didn't want to admit to myself. When I wrote though, I felt like I was on top of the world. I was making something that made me proud! I was making so much progress! She absolutely hated it though. Trying to tell me that I should start taking breaks, at the very least, to stretch and use the bathroom. Surprise, I wasn’t doing that either.

I’m doing better now, even though I have to go to my doc more often and I still write too much because I’m hellishly stubborn, but not as much as I used to. I used to be afraid to talk about what I was writing with her because it was so vulnerable. Especially after I stopped caring for myself, worried she’d tell me to stop writing completely. Now, I’ll read her lines that I find important to share and she likes to tell me how she’s proud of me. She’ll tell me I’m saying the things that the younger version of me needed to hear. Which I find hilarious considering the plot of my last story. My experiences while writing are part of the reason why I’m no longer content with In Dreams of Blood and Water. I’ve re-read it with this new perspective, and I see how I still barely let myself touch what hurt. I want to do better.

Now, I need to do this right for myself and for them.

So be good to yourself, for yourself.

Write that trauma.

But do your self care.

And for fucks sake get up and go pee.

[batsovergotham]

🦇 𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗼 𝗪𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝗚𝗿𝗮𝘆𝘀𝗼𝗻 | A DETAILED GUIDE

regarding the project: whether or not you have read the comics, this is a straightforward tutorial for anyone wishing to write mark grayson more precisely. brief notes. genuine emotional breakdowns. no lecturing. no gatekeeping. just a straightforward, honest look at what really shapes him and how to use the source material to portray him accurately.

a/n: i posted the poll about making a how to write mark grayson guide today, but honestly... i’ve been working on this for a while, ever since i posted some fics. it started because a few people mentioned that some of my mark breakdowns helped them with their fics, and i thought it might be nice to have something more detailed all in one place. so even though the poll went up today, this guide’s been in the works for a bit hehe i really hope it helps anyone who wants to write mark more true to the comics! thanks for reading!

in the invincible comics, if there’s one thing about mark grayson, it’s that he’s stubborn as hell when it comes to his ideals. like, painfully stubborn. there are so many times where he just flat-out refuses to back down from what he believes is right, even when everyone around him is telling him he’s being naive or that it’s gonna blow up in his face. and since the show hasn’t gotten to a lot of these moments yet, let’s talk about some comic only examples that really show just how stubborn (and sometimes reckless) mark’s idealism can be.

okay, so first off: the whole fight between mark and cecil stedman (the government guy who runs the GDA)? it's turning point of mark's view of the GDA and what it truly means to be a hero. it also begins to shed him of his naivety.

basically, mark finds out cecil’s been doing all this shady stuff behind the scenes like building an army of zombie cyborg supersoldiers (the reanimen), working with literal evil clones, just... real villain behavior. cecil’s whole mindset is like, “yeah it’s awful, but it’s for the greater good.” and mark? hates it. the second he finds out, he’s ready to fight.

and cecil’s response? he doesn’t even try to explain himself anymore. he just sends a whole damn army of reanimen after mark to try and beat him into submission. it’s brutal. mark gets swarmed, blasted with this crazy sonic device they rigged up, he’s getting absolutely trashed, and he still refuses to back down. he barely escapes, pulls some of the guardians together, and marches right back to finish what he started.

they trash the reanimen, it’s a mess, and at the end, cecil’s standing there like, “i did what had to be done.” and mark, bleeding and furious, basically tells him to shove it. he straight-up quits. no backup, no government support, nothing just him deciding he’d rather be completely alone than be part of something he thinks is wrong. like... that’s mark grayson. stubborn to the end.

Universa Arc.

so, universa’s this alien warrior who shows up on earth basically trying to steal the planet’s energy to save her dying world. mark and eve fight her, they win, she gets thrown in prison. standard superhero stuff, right? most heroes would’ve been like “cool, problem solved” and moved on. but not mark. mark can’t let it go.

he actually goes out of his way to visit her in jail. just to talk. and when he finds out she was only doing all of this because her people were desperate not because she was evil or power-hungry or anything he immediately goes into “let’s fix this” mode. like, no hesitation.

and he doesn't just feel bad about it and leave, no, mark convinces the warden to let her go, helps her find a way to safely get the energy she needs without hurting anyone, and sends her back home to save her people. universa is so stunned she literally promises to repay him someday.

it’s honestly one of the purest things he ever does. he refuses to just see her as “the bad guy.” he sees the person underneath. he believes that people, even enemies, can do the right thing if you give them a real chance.

was it a little naive? yeah, kinda. but it worked because mark’s the kind of guy who means it. like, really means it. and people can tell. that’s why his idealism hits so hard. he never gives up on the idea that there’s a better way.

Oliver and Allen VS Mark

okay, so one of the most heartbreaking examples of mark’s idealism clashing with the people he loves is the whole scourge virus situation.

basically, allen the alien and mark’s half-brother oliver come up with this plan to release a modified version of the scourge virua, the same virus that almost wiped out the viltrumites, to finish the job for good.

and mark? mark is horrified.

he’s not just worried about the viltrumites (even though yeah, some of them deserve it). he’s thinking about the humans. he’s thinking about the risk. he’s thinking about how unleashing something that dangerous ever is just crossing a moral line you can’t uncross.

so he tries to stop them. and it turns into a full-on fight. it’s messy, it’s emotional, and somewhere in the middle of it all, oliver, desperate and panicking, accidentally infects mark with the virus. mark almost dies.

and even after all that, after being betrayed and almost killed by his own brother, mark doesn’t blow up in rage. he’s just heartbroken. because for mark, the real tragedy isn’t what happened to him. it’s that people he loves were willing to risk something so horrific, to cross a line he’s spent his whole life refusing to cross.

like... he would literally rather fight his own family, risk dying, than give up on his ideals. he genuinely believes that the ends don’t justify the means, even if it costs him everything.

The Final Battle with Thragg and Mark's Monologue

by the end of the comic, we really get the full picture of who mark grayson has become. all that stubborn idealism, independence, and moral conviction he’s built up over the years? it all comes to a head during his final battle with thragg.

and the thing is...mark’s not just throwing punches. he’s saying everything he’s believed, everything that’s come to define him. he straight-up rejects thragg’s whole worldview, the viltrumite mindset of "strength over everything." and while they’re fighting, mark gives this monologue (mid-fight, because of course he does) that honestly just hits you right in the chest:

“you see us as people living only for conquest, measured only by the size of our empire. no room for peace. no room for compassion. no room for love… the truth is you were holding us back… we can be a force for good. we can spread peace throughout the galaxy. we can love and be loved. we can be happy.”

like... that’s so mark. even after everything he’s been through, even while he's locked in a life or death fight, he still believes people, even viltrumites, can be better.

and it’s not just talk either. this is what mark actually wants. he’s trying to turn an empire built on war into something good. it’s insanely idealistic, yeah, but it’s 100% real. and what’s really cool is that he’s doing it his way. not the way any viltrumite leader before him would’ve done it. this is mark’s independence on full blast, he's building something new, completely breaking away from the old viltrumite pride and brutality.

thragg, of course, can’t even wrap his head around it. and mark beats him, physically and symbolically. it’s basically proving that compassion and strength aren’t opposites. mark’s showing that being a good person doesn’t mean being weak, and being cruel doesn’t mean you’re strong.

if you’re writing fanfiction that covers late-series or post-series mark, this moment is a huge thing to keep in mind. by now, he’s not the uncertain teenager anymore. he knows who he is and what he stands for. but he hasn’t lost that earnestness, that moral fire he had as a kid, if anything, it’s gotten stronger and sharper.

mark taking down thragg with conviction shows the kind of leader he’s grown into. he’s not just reacting to problems anymore; he’s actively trying to shape a better future. people look up to him, even people who used to be enemies, because of the integrity he shows. not because they’re scared of him, but because they respect him.

another super important thing: even after all that, mark doesn’t turn into some dictator. like, it would’ve been so easy for him to say, “i’m the strongest, i’m in charge now.” but he doesn’t. he stays focused on making things better. he pushes for the viltrumites to actually protect earth, to integrate, to live differently. he keeps that humility.

even at the height of his power, he’s worrying about being a good husband, a good dad (the finale shows his future family life), and living up to his ideals. he never stops checking himself because deep down, he’s terrified of turning into what his dad was.

so if you’re writing a future!mark or an alt ending where he’s leading the viltrumites or running with huge responsibilities, always keep that in mind: no matter how powerful he is, he’s still that same kid who’s scared of losing his humanity and who’ll do anything to protect it.

Now that we understand the Idealism surrounding his character, let's discuss how to actually write him.

okay so if you’re writing mark grayson in fanfics, one of the biggest things you have to remember is that he is not a soft boy. he is not a “yes man.” he is not some passive sunshine character who just agrees with whatever the hell his friends or love interest says because he’s so sweet and loyal. that’s just not who he is.

mark is kind. he’s empathetic. he loves deeply. but he is stubborn as hell when it comes to his beliefs. like painfully, frustratingly stubborn.

he doesn’t just roll over when someone he loves disagrees with him. he doesn’t abandon his moral compass to avoid conflict. if anything, he’ll fight even harder against the people he cares about because he believes so strongly in what he thinks is right.

this is the guy who:

tells cecil (the literal head of the GDA, who helped him post omni-man) to fuck off to his face because cecil’s methods are too corrupt.

tries to rehabilitate a literal eco-terrorist (dinosaurus) because he genuinely thinks they could do good together, even when everyone else calls him insane.

punches his own little brother and one of his best friends (oliver and allen) in the face when they want to use the scourge virus to wipe out the viltrumites, because he refuses to believe genocide is ever the answer even when it would save billions of lives.

goes into exile on an alien planet with his family instead of accepting a “peaceful” dictatorship run by robot, because he would rather lose everything than live under tyranny. then, he eventually comes back and kills robot himself.

like... mark is kind, yes. but he’s not compliant. he’s not someone you can easily sway just because you’re close to him. he doesn’t make decisions based on what’s easiest or what’ll hurt the fewest feelings. he makes decisions based on what he believes is right, even if it blows up his relationships. even if it hurts people he loves. even if it isolates him.

so when you’re writing him:

let him argue. let him push back when something doesn’t sit right with him.

let him get angry when his beliefs are challenged. he’s emotional. he’s reactive.

let him stand his ground even when it costs him.

let him care so deeply it hurts him sometimes.

don’t be afraid to show that he’s wrong, too because sometimes his stubbornness backfires horribly (like trusting dinosaurus). but even when he’s wrong, he’s never malicious. he’s never apathetic. he’s trying.

he’s not cold. he’s not cruel. but he’s also not a people-pleaser. he’s willing to lose friends, mentors, allies, and even his home if it means doing what he feels is right.

common mischaracterizations you should avoid:

making him a soft, easily manipulated boyfriend who never questions anything.

making him prioritize romance over his core values without struggle. (like, if you have him abandoning his morals instantly for love, it feels wrong. he might bend, but it would mess him up inside and cause conflict.) DO NOT CONFLATE HIS MORALS WITH WHAT THE GDA BELIEVES!!

making him unrealistically calm and detached. mark feels everything with his whole chest. when he’s hurt or angry, it shows. he doesn't bottle it up perfectly.

writing him like he's just “along for the ride” emotionally. mark makes decisions. he moves the plot. even when he’s wrong, he’s active, not passive.

writing mark grayson right means letting him be a mess sometimes. it means letting him get bloodied up in fights he probably can’t win. it means letting him make terrible mistakes because he believed too hard in someone. it means letting him love people and lose people and still keep standing, still keep hoping. still keep fighting for the better world he dreams of.

because that's what makes him invincible. not the powers. not the strength. it’s the fact that even when everything in him is broken, his body, his mind, etc, he keeps fighting for what he believes in.

bad vs good characterization examples for mark

example 1

bad: "are you sure about this?" he asked, voice trembling. "i mean... if you think it's right, i'll go along with it. i trust you." (he says nothing else. he just follows along. no hesitation, no conflict, just blind loyalty.)

why it's wrong: this makes him sound like a passive puppy who just goes wherever the story/author pushes him. mark is loyal, yeah, but he’s not a yes man. if something feels wrong to him, he’s going to say something even if it starts a fight.

good: "i don’t know if i can go with you on this," mark said, frowning. "i get why you want to do it... i do. but it doesn’t sit right with me. it’s not who i want to be." his hands flexed at his sides, restless. "i’m not trying to fight you. i’m trying to make you understand." (there’s tension. there’s conflict. but the love is still there. he’s standing his ground because he cares.)

example 2

bad: mark nodded immediately. "you're right. i didn’t even think about it that way. i’ll change everything i'm doing for you." (he has no independent thought. he never questions anything. he changes core beliefs instantly.)

why it's wrong: mark can compromise sometimes, but it’s never instant. if he changes his mind, it comes from hard conversations, real consequences, or deep emotional shifts. he doesn’t just flip a switch because someone asked him nicely.

good: "maybe you’re right," mark muttered after a long beat, his jaw locked. "but you can’t expect me to throw away everything i believe just because it's easier." he exhaled, frustrated, running a hand through his ebony hair. "i need to think. i can't just... pretend this doesn't matter."

key reminders when writing mark:

he’s stubborn. like cartoonishly stubborn. even when it’s inconvenient. even when it costs him everything.

he’s idealistic. he genuinely believes doing the right thing matters, even if nobody else believes it anymore.

he’s emotional. he feels everything with his whole chest. anger, sadness, guilt, hope, it’s never muted or put down for the sake of plot purposes.

he’s reactive. mark doesn’t always think things through. if he sees something he doesn't like or someone he loves in danger, he moves first, thinks later.

he’s not a people pleaser. even if he loves you, if you’re doing something he thinks is wrong, he’s gonna call you out. loudly.

he fights with people he loves. not because he loves them less but because he loves them too much to let them destroy themselves or cause harm to other people that causes conflict in what he believes in.

he’s not a soft boy. he’s kind. he’s empathetic. but he’s also willing to bloody his fists and risk his life for what he believes in.

he’s not passive. mark makes choices. even when they’re bad ones. he’s an active character who moves the plot forward.

he’s wrong sometimes. his idealism blinds him. he trusts the wrong people. he fucks up. and he owns it (eventually).

he doesn't believe violence is the first answer (especially at the end of the series). but when it’s necessary, he doesn’t hold back. if he’s in a fight, he’s there to win.

he can’t be guilt tripped into giving up his morals. you can hurt him. you can betray him. but you can’t make him become someone he’s not.

he keeps hoping. even after all the betrayal, death, loss, heartbreak he's gone through, he never fully lets go of hope.

NOTABLE MOMENTS TO HELP CHARACTERIZE HIM IN YOUR FIC

“DON’T EVER THREATEN MY FAMILY!!” – Issue #33.

this is mark at his absolute breaking point just pure protective rage, screaming at angstrom who just hurt his mom. it’s a simple line, but it hits because you can feel everything behind it. the second someone he loves is in danger, mark doesn’t hold back. he doesn’t care about looking heroic or calm, he just loses it. and that’s something to keep in mind if you’re writing him, when mark’s temper explodes, it’s not about his pride or getting even. it’s about protecting the people he loves. period. he’s like a lion protecting his cubs its all instinct, no hesitation. so if you’re ever writing a scene where a villain’s threatening someone close to him, picture mark practically shaking, shouting until his voice breaks, just burning with that raw, desperate anger. it’s not polished or composed, it’s messy, it’s emotional, and it’s all love underneath it.

“THIS IS BEING A SUPER-HERO? I'M JUST STOPPING CRAP FROM HAPPENING AT ANY GIVEN MOMENT. I'M NOT DOING ANYTHING REALLY WORTHWHILE… …AND WHEN I FAIL… MY GOD, I FAIL BIG. WE HAVE THE POWER TO CHANGE THE WORLD, EVE… …BUT INSTEAD THINGS JUST KEEP GETTING WORSE.” – Issue #81.

it’s not just some random thought he brushes off. you can tell it hits him. like... what if everything he’s been doing hasn’t actually changed anything? what if he’s just patching holes in something that’s already falling apart? it’s honestly a gut-punch moment because mark is usually so stubbornly hopeful. but even he isn’t immune to wondering if any of it’s enough. and it’s such an important part of who he is, he doesn’t just blindly believe everything’s fine. he feels it when it isn’t. he questions himself. he struggles with it. if you’re writing fanfic and you want to show a more introspective or vulnerable side of him, especially after something rough happens, this is the kind of feeling you want to tap into. not him giving up, but that raw, exhausted moment where he’s like, what’s the point if nothing ever really changes? it makes him feel real. because even with all the optimism and fight he’s got, sometimes the weight of it still catches up to him.

HOW TO WRITE HIS HUMOR/MORE LIGHT-HEARTED SIDE

mark isn’t all heavy drama and serious fights, he actually has a ton of light, funny moments, especially early on. like when he first starts getting his powers and his coworker asks him about his future, he just says

“finish high school, I guess.”

which is funny because he already knows he’s about to step into something way bigger.

there are little moments like that all over, times when he’s play fighting with william, or throwing out corny jokes, especially about stuff like science dog (his favorite comic, seance dog in the show). even though a lot of this guide focuses on the heavy, emotional stuff, it’s important not to forget these slice of life stuff

if you’re writing fanfics with him, adding in those little jokes or funny lines can really help keep mark in character. think about it like how spider-man cracks jokes during fights except mark’s version is a little less snarky and more dorky he jokes the most when he’s around people he’s comfortable with, and it’s not because he’s not taking things seriously it’s because that humor is just a part of who he is.

DISCLAIMER!

one of the biggest differences between comic mark and show mark is that comic mark is definitely rougher around the edges, especially early on. he’s not the super polished, always perfect hero type. in the early issues, mark can actually be kind of crude, he uses slurs (like the r-word) and makes some offhanded gay jokes, usually when he’s goofing around with william. it’s definitely surprising when you read it now, but it’s also important to understand that it’s part of his growth. it’s not written to make him look good, it’s showing that he’s a dumb teenage boy who hasn’t figured everything out yet. he says thoughtless, insensitive stuff because he’s young, immature, and still has a lot of learning to do.

and the comics let him grow.

later on, when william comes out to him, mark doesn’t just brush it off or make another dumb joke, he’s genuinely supportive. he accepts william without hesitation. and from that point on, you can see a clear shift, mark stops using slurs, stops making those kinds of jokes. it’s not a huge dramatic “lesson learned” moment, but the change is there. he matures. he gets it.

the show sort of skips over this whole messy, realistic part of his character arc. animated mark is a lot more careful and a little more "clean" from the start, he doesn’t really say anything offensive, and he’s framed as a lot more socially aware right out of the gate. which makes sense for a modern audience and a tv format, but it does smooth out some of the rough growth we see in comic mark.

comic mark’s early immaturity makes his later kindness and emotional intelligence feel earned. it’s not that he’s perfect, it’s that he chooses to grow, to be better, to really care about people in a way that goes beyond surface-level acceptance. that’s a huge part of what makes comic mark feel so real. he screws up, he says dumb stuff, but he listens, he learns, and he changes.

CONCLUSION AND FINAL NOTE!

at the end of the day, mark grayson isn’t about being perfect. he’s about trying. he’s stubborn as hell, emotional, sometimes reckless, and way more human than people give him credit for.

he holds onto what he believes even when everyone’s telling him to give up. he fights for the people he loves even when it costs him everything. he messes up (a lot), but he always, always tries to be better. that’s what makes him mark.

when you’re writing him, don’t be afraid to show all of it, the anger, the humor, the doubt, the stubborn hope that somehow refuses to die even when everything’s falling apart. he’s not supposed to be perfect or untouchable. he’s supposed to feel real.

sometimes he gets it wrong. sometimes he crashes and burns. but the point is, he keeps going. he cares even when it’s easier not to. and that’s why people love him.

i hope breaking all this down helps if you’re trying to write him, understand him better, or just see where he’s coming from. because when you really look at it, mark’s whole story isn’t about being the strongest guy in the room it’s about being the one who refuses to give up on people, even when it would be easier to stop caring.

thanks for reading! and honestly, if you ever feel stuck writing him, just go back to that core idea > he never stops trying. that’s who he is.

[formulaonecrumbs]

ok, so this is my first time requesting ever so... if you could write something about younger brother lando (around 8 yo) being made fun of at school and older sisster reader comforting him (i'm talking about your older sister au ) if you don't write it it's completely fine just wanna say i really love you wrok 💗

you’re too cool for them

Lando Norris x older sister!reader

summary: lando comes home upset after being made fun of at school. reader finds him and comforts him in the way only an older sister can.

warnings: bullying mention, protective older sister energy

A/N: AHHH im glad i could be ur first request ever :) hope it lives up to wiat u expected. thank u sm, baby. i was going to make this much longer but i’ve been writing for like 4 maybe 5 hours straight WHOOPS. again thank u for the request, happy reading and i love u ❤️

༻ ❤︎︎ ༺

home film #11 (out of a gazillion)- found in a cardboard box labelled ‘memories’

(recorded: norris family home, bristol)

timestamp: 3:03 pm 11-15-2007

the clip starts mid-focus, camera pointed at the hallway, picking up footsteps—quick ones, heavy ones—and then the slam of the front door. lando rushes in, head down, backpack nearly falling off his shoulders. it’s raining outside, his socks are slightly damp, and he doesn’t even say hi.

the camera shakes as someone picks it up—adam’s voice murmurs something about “what’s got into him?” before the screen cuts to the living room.

you’re already there, curled up on the couch with a snack and a book, still in your school uniform. you barely look up until lando stomps through, dropping his bag with a thud.

“lando?” you ask.

he doesn’t answer. he just mumbles something under his breath and disappears into the hallway.

cut.

the next shot is more still. you’re holding the camcorder now, awkwardly pointing it at yourself like you’re not sure if you’re allowed to use it. the angle shifts wildly before settling just outside your bedroom.

you knock once, gently. “hey.”

no response.

“i know you’re in there.”

a sniffle.

your voice much softer now, “bean? can i come in?”

a beat. then, a quiet little “yeah.”

the video cuts again, and when it comes back, you’ve set the camera on your desk. it’s angled slightly crooked, catching you and lando sitting on your bed. he’s curled up, knees to his chest, eyes red and puffy.

“they said my teeth are weird.. that the gap is ugly,” he says quietly. “and that my voice is squeaky. and that i’m too short.”

you blink, something in your face hardening—not at him, but at the thought of whoever said it (murder is wrong murdering is wrong murder is wrong murder is wrong). “that’s stupid.”

lando shrugs, trying to act like he doesn’t care. “it’s true though.”

you shake your head. “your voice is fine. everyone’s voice is squeaky at eight. and your teeth are just your baby teeth. they’re perfect as is, sweet like dads. and being short doesn’t matter.”

“easy for you to say.”

you nudge his knee gently. “hey. i get picked on too sometimes. for different stuff. people are mean when they’re bored.”

lando doesn’t reply. just looks down again, and you reach over, pulling his hoodie hood up over his head.

“you’re cool,” you say firmly. “you’re funny, and you’re smart. you’re literally my favorite person.”

he peeks up at you.

“really?”

“yes, really. don’t tell the others.” you smile. “now do you want me to punch them or what?”

lando giggles for the first time.

“maybe.”

you wrap an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a sideways hug. “just ignore them, alright? or tell me. i’ll handle it.”

he leans into you, sniffling again, but this time a little softer.

the video fades out just as you toss him one of your stuffed animals and say, “you’re cooler than all of them. trust me.”

fade to black.

THE END :>

[gracie-eilish]

study break {part two}

warnings: contains mild smut - fingering r! receiving, dumbification if you squint really hard without glasses on

an: i freaking love this trope🤓 pls lmk if you want more of them bc they’re adorable to me:))))))))))))

also this will probably be the last smut fic i write for a teensy weensy bit!! idk i’ve just been feeling weird writing smut lately!! im not deleting any smut requests already in my inbox though so fear not, i’ll probably write them later hehe :)

pairing: jock!billie x nerd/student!reader part one

You were completely at her mercy, your breath shallow, your heart racing.

“You—” You swallowed.

“What baby? Cat got your tongue, hm?” She smirked watching you struggle to speak, your big eyes shifting on hers.

“You’re a menace,” you finally squeaked out.

“And you love it,” she whispered against your lips, kissing you again, deeper this time, as she carried you effortlessly toward your bedroom.

Just before she reached the door, she smirked against your lips. “By the way,” she murmured, her voice dropping an octave, “you’re not getting any sleep tonight, baby.”

And with that, she kicked the door shut behind her...

... and crashed her lips onto yours making you squeak in surprise.

The air was thick with anticipation as Billie lay you down on the soft silk sheets, your heart racing with excitement and a hint of nervousness.

"Bils," you whined, grabbing at her top, trying to pull it off.

"Patience, baby girl. Wanna take it slow, yeah? Let me help you relax for once. Turn that pretty brain off for a bit," she purred, leaning in to kiss just below your ear. "Can you do that for me, sweet thing? Can you relax for me?"

You were goo in her hands, like pure honey as she looked at you hungrily yet so softly. You nodded without blinking, jaw going slack watching her smirk.

"Nah uh baby, you know better. Need words, mama." You squirmed in her grasp and whined making her chuckle cockily, poking her cheek with her tongue.

"Yes, Bils, just need you please touch me," you rambled, making her giggle and lean back in.

"Sshhhh, honey, let me love on ya," her whispers made goosebumps appear on your skin as she started to push your top up and off of you.

Slowly, she helped you sit up a bit so she could remove your sweater, revealing a dainty lace bra decorating your breasts.

"Did you wear this on purpose?" she teased, knowing she was usually the one to initiate sex and not the other way around. Your face flushed burgundy.

"No, I haven't done laundry because I've been studying, so I didn't have any normal bras clean, so I had to wear- oh!" She cut off your adorable rambling with a trail of kisses from your jaw to your breasts.

"It's perfect, princess," she mumbled into your skin, looking up at you through her lashes.

One by one, the remaining layers flew off of both of you, only stopping once so Billie could admire the matching underwear you had on. For such a quiet little thing, you always surprised Billie with your wild side.

"My sweet girl," Billie purred, her voice low and full of promise. She sat back on the bed, revealing her luscious body to you. Her full breasts were barely covered by a black lace bra, and a matching thong accentuated her slender waist and round hips. "Are you ready for me, baby?"

Your shyness melted away under Billie's intense gaze.

"Yes, Billie," you whispered, your voice hoarse with desire. "I'm ready, Mommy." The pet name slipped out, a sign of your submission, and Billie's eyes lit up with delight.

"That's my good girl," Billie cooed, leaning over to capture your lips in a searing kiss. Her tongue invaded your mouth, demanding and passionate, leaving you breathless. Billie's hands roamed freely, caressing your thighs, teasingly close to your core.

As the kiss deepened, Billie's touch became more daring. She slid her hand beneath your bra, cupping your soft breast, thumb stroking the hardening nipple. You arched into her touch, a soft moan escaping your lips. Billie's fingers deftly unhooked the flimsy garment, baring your flawless body to her hungry gaze.

"You're so beautiful, my angel," Billie whispered, her breath hot against your skin as she trailed kisses down your neck, pecking the marks she left earlier. "So shy, yet so eager. I love seeing you like this, wanting me."

Your body trembled as Billie's lips traveled lower, leaving a trail of kisses along your collarbone. "P-please, Billie..." you pleaded, your hands tangling in Billie's hair, urging her downward.

Billie chuckled, the sound filled with lust. "Patience, my sweet.

With that, she nipped at your sensitive skin, making you squirm. "You gonna call me Mommy all night, aren't you, baby?"

You nodded, face flushed. "Yes, Mommy," you whispered, your voice steadying as you embraced your submissive role.

Billie's fingers trailed down your body, pausing at the waistband of your lace panties. She gently tugged them down, exposing your glistening pussy. "So wet already," she murmured, admiration in her voice. "You want me inside you, don't you?"

Your cheeks burned, but you nodded eagerly. "Yes, please, Mommy. I want you so badly."

Billie's fingers danced over your folds, teasing your clit, making you squirm with need. "Tell me what you want, baby," she urged, her touch sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

"I-I want your fingers inside me, Mommy," you gasped, your voice laced with desperation. "Please, touch me..."

With a wicked grin, Billie complied, sliding two fingers deep into your tight heat. Your back arched off the bed as a wave of pleasure hit you.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out, your body already sensitive and responsive.

Billie's touch was firm and relentless. She pumped her fingers in and out, twisting them to hit your sweet spot with each thrust.

"That's it, my good girl," she growled, her breath hot against your ear. "Let me hear you. Scream for me."

Your cries filled the room as Billie's skilled fingers worked your body into a frenzy. Your hips bucked wildly, seeking more of Billie's touch.

"Faster, Mommy! Please, don't stop!"

Billie added a third finger, stretching you deliciously. "You like that, huh, baby?" she asked, her voice rough with desire. "You love being filled by Mommy's fingers."

"Yes! Oh, God, yes!" You panted, your eyes rolling back as pleasure overwhelmed you. "I love it, Mommy. I'm so close..."

Billie's thumb found your clit, circling it relentlessly as she finger-fucked you with abandon.

"Come for me, my sweet girl," she demanded, her voice commanding. "Let me feel your pussy clench around my fingers."

Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over your senses. You cried out, your body shaking violently as wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through you.

"Mommy!" You screamed, your voice hoarse as you climaxed, your pussy contracting around Billie's fingers.

Billie slowed her movements, gently withdrawing her fingers, leaving your body buzzing with satisfaction. She brought her slick fingers up to your lips coaxing you to open, letting you suck your juices off her fingers.

"That's my good girl," she praised, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction. "You took everything I gave you baby."

You smiled shyly as she slipped her fingers out of your mouth, your eyes glazed with post-orgasmic bliss, chest still heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. "I—I can't believe I did that, Billie. I've never..."

"Never what, sweet girl?" Billie asked, tracing patterns on your naked body, making you shiver.

"I've never been so... vocal," you admitted, your cheeks flushing.

Billie's eyes softened, and she leaned in to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

"You did amazing, my angel. I love hearing you scream my name." She chuckled, nipping at your lower lip.

You giggled, your heart fluttering as you felt a newfound sense of empowerment. Billie's hand drifted lower, her fingers brushing against your sensitive clit, causing you to gasp. "Don't get comfy yet, princess, I have a few more tricks up my sleeve to keep that brain turned off for a bit, yeah?"

Your eyes widened with anticipation, your body already stirring with renewed desire. "Oh, Mommy," you breathed, your voice a mix of surrender and excitement...

[the-amber-raven]

@icyfox17 you've put this on my dash so many times that I had to write a scene about it 😅😅 This is genuinely just like pure self-indulgent fluff x1000 (You can also consider it my apology for the depressing texting fic)

--

Bobby jumped out as soon as the car slowed to park at the curb, drops of rain hitting his skin like frozen pinpricks and exacerbating the concern he’d been trying to control. 

“Bobby, the umbrella –” Athena called after him, exasperated. “You can’t help if you also get soaked.”

He cursed internally but turned to grab the umbrella. He didn’t care so much about himself, but the quicker that Buck was shielded from the freezing sheet of rain bearing down on them the better. 

Buck had noticed their arrival – that was good, it meant he was reactive and responsive to his surroundings. He pushed himself forward, using his body weight to leverage himself into a standing position, which was less good as it spoke to how exhausted the incredibly fit young man must be. 

Bobby lengthened his stride, opening the umbrella as he walked, and made it to the bench right as Buck got to his feet. 

“I’ve got you, kid.” 

His mind momentarily flashed back to the last time he’d said those exact words – but this was different, Buck’s eyes were open and he was breathing and the arm underneath his hand was moving this time.

He was alive. 

Absolutely sodden, but alive. 

“Th – thanks, Bobby – I’m sorry –”

“Don’t apologise,” Bobby said insistently, gripping Buck’s shoulder to lead him towards the running car. He was glad to see that the kid had at least worn something a little warmer for his run but unfortunately the hoodie was now completely soaked through. 

“C’mon, let’s get you into the car.” 

Buck was a little shaky on his feet, not unlike when he’d first been allowed out of bed, which was fine. 

It was fine. Buck was still recovering, it was all normal and fine. 

So long as he didn’t get set back by some awful cold. 

“Hi – hi, Athena,” Buck said, mustering up a smile for her as he reached to grip the car door that Bobby opened for him. 

“You look like a drowned rat, Buckaroo,” Athena said sympathetically, leaning across to look through the gap between the two front seats so that she could take him in properly. “Probably wasn’t the best night for getting some fresh air…”

“The doc said some daily light cardio would be good for me,” Buck explained, sinking into the backseat gratefully, his face visibly softening when the blast of hot air from the heating reached him. “I’ve done this run for the last couple of days but – I don’t even know, it was like a wave of exhaustion came and and I had to stop and it wouldn’t go away and –” 

“I’m sure that’s probably normal when you’re recovering from such a serious injury,” Athena said, swiftly jumping in to interrupt before he could get lost in the frustration that was clearly building. 

“It’s been two weeks,” Buck muttered petulantly, crossing his arms. Bobby winced at the squelching noise the fabric made.

“Which is not a long time,” Athena pointed out, raising her eyebrow at him meaningfully, making Buck sink down further into the seat with an obvious pout. His hood left a dark mark on the seat behind him. 

“Kid, take that thing off,” Bobby directed, ducking half into the car and wrestling with the umbrella so that it was mostly covering him from the rain while he took his own hoodie off. 

Buck frowned at him, confused. “What – Bobby, no, I’m fine.” 

“You’re going to get yourself sick and then you’ll really feel too exhausted for your cardio and your physio exercises,” Bobby said, his voice muffled. “Take it off; this will warm you up faster.”

“What about you?” Buck protested, still not making a move.

“I’m not wet,” Bobby pointed out. He levelled Buck with a commanding look, silently telling him to get a move on. 

“He can sit in the back with you, I’ve got the heat on the highest setting there for you,” Athena added, sounding amused. 

“Thanks, Athena,” Bobby said, a little sheepish, but of course his amazing wife just gave him a knowing look and told him to get the umbrella inside and close the door. 

Buck, realising that he was outnumbered, finally acquiesced, pulling his soaked hoodie off and trading it for Bobby’s dry one. His skin wasn’t flushed or feverish, easing some of Bobby’s concern, but it was damp and clammy, so getting him warm was definitely still a high priority.

Bobby nudged him to the side so that he could sit down properly and clip his seatbelt on and then immediately leaned forward to adjust the vents to blast their blessed heat towards Buck (he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and had barely been outside for two minutes, he didn’t need it. Rubbing his hands together to get the circulation going in his hands again would suffice). 

When Athena heard the second click from Buck’s seatbelt, she moved away from the curb, performing a U-turn to take them back from where they came from.

“Oh, you can take Elm up ahead,” Buck said, leaning forward slightly. “It’s a shortcut back to my street.”

“Buck, I certainly hope that you don’t actually believe we’re dropping you home and leaving you alone after all of this,” Athena said reprovingly.

“Um –” Buck flicked his gaze over to Bobby. It took him a second to register that the kid was looking at him, because Bobby was already preoccupied with trying to remember whether or not they had all the ingredients for his spicy chicken noodle soup. 

“Of course you’re coming home with us.” Bobby was slightly incredulous that it even had to be said; he’d thought it was so obvious that he hadn’t even bothered to tell Athena to head straight back to theirs. “What, did you think we were going to drop you off so you could shiver in your apartment on your own and end up cold and sick with no one to look out for you?” 

“My apartment has heating,” Buck muttered.

His cheeks were flushed, which was probably because he was a little embarrassed about the fussing. 

But his hands were also still shaking.

“Bobby!” Buck squawked, trying to shift away from the hand that Bobby placed on his forehead. 

Thanks to the seatbelt, he couldn’t move far, so Bobby was easily able to also check his cheeks to confirm that his temperature seemed normal. 

“There was a machine doing your breathing for you two weeks ago, kid, I’d like to make sure you won’t be needing that again anytime soon,” Bobby scolded lightly, dropping his hand back into his lap. 

“It’s just a little rain,” Buck whined, slouching back in the seat with a pout. “I just need to – to warm up and probably get some sleep.” 

“Well, we’ll get you some soup and some dry clothes and then we have a perfectly good bed you can use,” Bobby said matter-of-factly. 

Maybe the kid would sleep a little easier with someone else with him.  

He’d noticed Buck’s difficulty with sleeping over a week ago. The fact that the bags under his eyes only got heavier despite days away from the hospital would have been enough to betray him, but Bobby also had the numerous texts which came through at all hours of the night. It hadn’t taken him long to realise that many of the daytime texts must have come through after Buck attempted to take a nap, either. 

Bobby wasn’t sure if actual company would satiate whatever need Buck had that was dragging him out of sleep and pushing him to text Bobby, but he could hope. 

Hope had already worked once to give him his kid back. Maybe it could work again to put him back together. 

“You guys really don’t need to do that,” Buck said softly. 

Bobby sighed.

It was the same thing he’d said when Bobby had offered to stay at the loft for a few days after Phillip and Margaret Buckley left (he’d been quite proud of himself for refraining from any scathing commentary about how quickly they’d left – at least until Buck had casually mentioned that they’d actually been staying at their hotel even before leaving LA altogether, only dropping in a few times a day, at which point Bobby had unleashed a rant so uncharacteristically vicious that May drove forty-five minutes to buy him the brownies that reminded him of his favourite bakery in St Paul.) 

“Kid, will you stop being so stubborn and just let us look after you.” He threw his arm around Buck’s shoulders to lessen the sting of his light exasperation, leaning his head back to hide his pleased smile when Buck melted into the half hug. “It’s not a bad thing to need help. In fact, when you lo – care for someone, it actually brings peace when you get to provide it.” 

“‘M not stubborn,” Buck said stubbornly. 

Athena snorted. “You’re both too stubborn for your own good. And we both know you aren’t winning with Bobby when he gets like this, Buck, so you might as well stop complaining for all our sakes.” 

Buck nodded, but he wasn’t quite cowed enough to stop defending himself just yet. 

“I did call and ask for you to come,” he reminded them, his hands twisting together between the sleeves of Bobby’s Minnesota Wilds hoodie, “so I’m – I am getting better at the whole asking for help thing.” 

Bobby gave him a subtle squeeze with the arm that was still holding him in a half-hug. 

“That’s true,” he conceded fondly, glancing down at the mop of hair resting on his shoulder that was finally starting to dry into the curls that Buck very rarely allowed the world to see. “Thank you. I’m glad you reached out to me when you were struggling instead of trying to push through it.” 

“Thank you for coming,” Buck said quietly, directing the words to his wringing hands. “I, um – I wasn’t –” he stopped, taking a deep breath and then letting it out with an audible ‘whoosh.’ “Just. Thanks. For answering and – and for coming.” 

“You don’t need to say thank you for that,” Bobby said, matching his quiet tone. 

He shifted his head so that he could look at Buck properly – a thick swell of pride was unfurling in his chest and putting pressure on his throat. 

This kid, who looked older than the hotheaded brat that had waltzed into his firehouse six and a half years ago but somehow also managed to seem younger because he had allowed that hard protective bravado to soften, showing and accepting the vulnerability that lurked within.

The Buck of six years ago never would have asked for help.

The Buck of three years ago would have put up a bigger fuss at accepting anything more than the bare minimum of help, insisting that he could manage it himself. 

But this Buck was finally ready to accept that he had people in his corner who wanted to help. Was able to recognise when asking for help would be better for him, and knew that he had people in his corner who would provide it as soon as he asked for it. 

He understood his worth, and he understood how loved he was. 

Bobby was so, so proud of him. 

It was hard to believe how close he’d come to losing him forever. 

The familiar pain of his deferred grief crashed over him as it hit him once again exactly how close he had come to losing this incredible kid. 

He swallowed down the lump in his throat, squeezing Buck to his side again and resting his chin on Buck’s head, using the warmth of Buck’s body to remind himself that Buck was right here, alive and safe and okay. 

Buck was fine. He needed warmth, some soup, some calm and quiet and a bit more time and patience and support to fully recover from his ordeal both physically and mentally but there were all things that Bobby could provide for him. 

Bobby breathed in deeply, the blended scent of rain and Buck’s shampoo filling his nostrils and, driven by some mix of paternal instinct and intense gratitude, he pressed a kiss to Buck’s head.

Buck stiffened beneath his arms, and this time Bobby was sure that it was his cheeks that were flushing – but the awkwardness lasted barely a moment and Buck slumped back into the half-hug, even shifting a little bit so that more of his weight rested on Bobby.

He couldn’t see Buck’s face from this angle, but he was sure that he was probably sporting that tiny pleased smile that Bobby adored seeing on him, the one that told him that the kid was content down to his very bones. 

Going by the fondly knowing look Athena was sending him through the rearview mirror, Bobby knew that he must be radiating the exact same level of contentment. 

riding home in the backseat

[bonzirelle]

Out Of Sync

paring: idol!bangchan x reader

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: cursing(like two), arguing(idk if that counts), kissing

summary: Chan’s been pushing himself to the edge for the sake of the group, while you’re growing more and more worried about his mental health. But all he sees is the music—the deadlines, the pressure, the need to keep going. Your concerns don’t match his priorities, and slowly, it starts to pull your relationship apart.

dolle’s note: i wrote one little channie’s room reference..please lmk if you saw it!!

✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧

It’s close to one in the morning and you were getting more tired with every second that passed by. Eyes dropping ever few minutes and everything was going quiet, well, everything except for the sound of Chan humming a melody to himself while tapping a pencil against his mini notebook. Usually this wouldn’t worry or bother you, his work never really has, but lately it’s getting to a point. He damn near stays up until sunrise and some days he doesn’t even come home from the studio. You’re lucky Jisung practically dragged him out of the room, or else you knew he would still be in there pushing himself to the brink of passing out.

You knew about Chan’s passion for music, it’s never been hidden. You would actually be more concerned if he didn’t mention music for a day. You’ve always supported him and his decisions when it comes to music writing and producing, you always have so it would be kind of weird to you if you didn’t. But more frequently you’ve been second guessing letting him stay up late like this. He stays in the studio for a whole day and misses meals. You know it’s not healthy for him and he knows it too. But he’s too blinded by his love for music that he’s neglecting his own personal health.

“Chan, it’s getting late. You should come to bed.” You sounded so tired, and that’s because you were extremely exhausted.

For the first few seconds he was completely silent continuing to be hunched over a spiral notebook while writing lyrics.

“Just give me a second.”

“You said that an hour ago.”

A sigh fell from his lips, he pauses his movements for a second to see if you would say anything else, but when you didn’t he just went right back to writing as if you went basically pleading for him to lay with you. Yeah, you were worried about him and his health, but you’ve also been starting to feel much more lonely and empty lately. You didn’t want to make this about yourself so you stayed quiet not to worry or stress him out even further. After a few more moments of silence from the both of you, you wrap a throw blanket around your shoulders and get out of the bed then made your way over to his desk.

“Chan, i’ve literally been waiting for you to get in bed since you’ve come home. You came here at ten…it’s almost one in the morning.”

You watched him start to bounce his leg while you we’re talking like he was trying to distract himself from something.

“I never asked you to wait for me. You shouldn’t even be up right now. You have work in the morning, don’t let me keep you from going to sleep.”

“That’s the point, Chan. I literally can’t sleep without you.”

He started to roll his eyes as you spoke. You knew he was burning himself out but that didn’t give him the right to be annoyed at you, you didn’t do anything but wait for him. That’s what you’ve always done. Gave him time no matter what. You know no one is perfect so you ah to give him the benefit of the doubt, you wouldn’t get too snappy or angry at him for being up like this.

“Can you just leave alone for one fucking moment? God, you’re so clingy for no reason. Just go to sleep.”

His words hurt way more than they were supposed to. You’ve always looked at Chan as someone who would never say anything hurtful or mean to you. That’s how he’s always been.

“Oh, i’m clingy? God forbid i wanted to wait for my boyfriend to actually get to sleep with him.”

After you got nothing but silence from him, you scoff and go back over to your bed.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered while tucking the sheets back and wrapping yourself in them. You tried not to get too worked up over this but you just really wanted to feel Chan’s arms around you after days of him coming home late. He was like the feeling of coming home to a warm room after spending the whole day out in the cold. Still, he was being stubborn and continued to write away in his notebook instead hearing you out and acting spending some time with you and this time you just accepted it. It’s not like much would change anyway.

You fell asleep pretty quickly considering it was really late. While you began to drift off in complete silence, you felt the bed dip down beside you and a familiar scent of lemon and complete sweetness then knew it was Chan. Well, i mean who else would it have been?

“Babe..you up?” You nod your head a little, not having the strength to speak. He let out a very soft sigh through his nostrils while tucking some of your hair behind his ears. “Good night, baby…” He leans down to press a light kiss to your cheek.

He doesn’t say anything this time, just reaches over and pulls you close. You let him. His hand finds yours under the blanket, fingers lacing slowly. A shaky breath leaves his nose. Then, so soft you almost miss it—“’Night.” He presses a kiss to your temple and closes his eyes. And everything feels like it’ll be just fine.

✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧

[secretlyazombi3]

hallo!! (๑'ᵕ'๑)⸝* ⋆ ⁺ ₊

i'd like to request a royal reader x knight!leon smut, if it's totally okay + within your comfort zone! i'm leaning towards a more submissive leon here, he's a man of a few words and typically doesn't chat a lot with people he isn't close with but he's reaaaallyy whimpering and whiny with reader when he gets his world rocked, much to their pleasant surprise :3 some overstimulation and praise thrown in would be nice too if you'd like hihiii

-🍮

⌞⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ Armor .ᐟ⌝

leon kennedy x afab! reader

๋࣭ ⭑⚝word count:  3.9k ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ NSFW !!!, 2nd person, leon is a bit subby, reader and leon r both desperate for each other, unprotected (as always, pls don’t do that), riding, a bit of overstimulation + praise, ‘forbidden’ in a way, leon is implied to be a bit older, squirting

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ summary: Your knight in shining armour catches you trying to sneak out past midnight. 

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ a/n: HII 🍮TYSM FOR THE REQUEST ! :3 sorry i’ve been slow on writing, i’ve had writer’s block and been busy w school (i have finals coming up soon :c) but my requests r still open and i’m working on the requests i have ! ty all sm for the support :3 <3 sorry if there r any errors !

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You stood against the wall, mostly covered in shadow as you watched everyone on the floor of the great hall, all dancing and having a good time. Your arms were crossed as you puffed a bit until your knight approached you. 

He was a calloused man, very quiet, very protective of you. His parents ordered him to follow you around like a damn lost dog to make sure you were safe at all times, despite being an adult. Your parents always babied you and affected how Leon treated you. Like some sort of damsel in distress. He’d always try to dismiss it with some comment about how important it was for your parents to have an heir to the throne or whatever. You didn’t really care about it; it was just bullshitting excuses to keep you from living your life. 

“May I go now?” you asked him as you eyed the dancefloor. Your parents were hosting the yearly Spring Ball at the castle again; this was your first year you were actually allowed to attend the damn thing. Every past year, your parents had insisted that you were ‘too young’, and they were only ‘trying to keep you safe’. Of course, to an extent, it was reasonable, but that didn’t make it totally justified. Everyone at the ball had been personally invited, and the other knights were at the front of the castle approving each guest, so it wasn’t like there were any real threats they were worried about. You knew the real reason - they didn’t want you meeting anyone from outside the castle walls. 

Your parents never explicitly stated it, but you were sure that you were going to be packaged into an arranged marriage one day. They didn’t want anyone less than perfect to sit beside you on the throne one day, so it’d likely be someone they’d trust and someone who knew how to rule over a kingdom. 

Leon nodded his head at your question, grunting out a quiet “yes”. You moved away from the wall and towards the crowd of others before Leon gripped your wrist and pulled you back. “Not so fast.” he started. 

You squirmed a bit out of Leon’s grip, despite it being gentle, all while Leon spoke to you in his usual cold, monotone voice. “Your parents want me to keep an eye on you the whole evening.”. He didn’t wait for your reaction before he sighed, he already knew you’d be upset. 

“I’m not a child; I don’t need to be babysat.” You replied as Leon’s grip finally faltered and you headed off to the mass of people dancing together, only for Leon to follow after you. Typical. That man acted like a baby duckling following their mother duck. He was practically chained to you. Couldn’t your parents see that you didn’t need to have some helicoptering over you at all times?

You hurried away from the corner, not wanting to spend any more of the evening alone in the corner. This was your first time ever attending a dance, after all, and you were going to make the most of it.

Every girl in the palace was all dolled up in ruffle-covered dresses and fancy up-do hairstyles that accentuated their facial features. All the men were dressed up in fancy suits, detailed with gold, tailored specifically for them. It was your first time seeing everyone up close like this, so you took a moment to admire every detail. 

“You just going to stand there staring, pretty thing?” a man asked you from behind, making you turn around. It was some guy you’ve never seen, you hadn’t a clue what relationship he had with your parents that let him get invited, but you didn’t care. He was cute, and you barely ever got social interaction with anyone besides the knights and the maids here. 

He took your hand and offered you to dance, and God, how could you refuse such a pretty face? Time had gone by rather fast; the lack of windows nearby did not aid your blindness to the time. You hadn’t been able to see the sun fall past the horizon and the moon begin to take its place. You wiped your forehead clean of all the beads of sweat that had accumulated from spending so much time dancing in a hall packed with so many other people. Leon had just been standing a few feet away, just watching… Guy probably had nothing better to do, you thought. 

“Are you going to be attending that, uh, afterparty for this ball tonight? The one east of the village?” the man you’d been dancing with had asked you once you two had paused for some air and water. 

“Huh?” you replied, tilting your head a little. It was your first time hearing about anything of that sort. 

“The king- or, your dad, I mean… his friends host an after-party of sorts. Lasts from dusk till dawn. Are you coming?” You hesitated before replying. You hadn’t even heard about it, probably because your dad knew that you’d want to go if you had known about it. And your parents would never let you outside the castle walls during the night. Even if Leon came to chaperone you. 

“Ah-” you started, stumbling over your words until you felt a large hand prop onto your shoulder. Turning to look back, you saw Leon moving to stand beside you. He leaned down a bit closer to you so he could talk just softly enough for you to hear. “Your parents want you back in your quarters by midnight. It’s five past.” he said to you quietly. 

“God damnit, I’ve got a bedtime now too?” You replied as you glanced at Leon, then back at the man you’d been dancing with, dying to kiss all night. Years of being cooped up behind castle walls made you desperate. 

Leon didn’t respond, his expression as unamused as always. The man hadn’t cracked a smile at all the whole night, it was honestly depressing. He was a dedicated knight alright. He had the opportunity to dance with anyone he wanted to - admittedly, he was quite handsome. But instead, he spent the hours just standing there, watching you have the time of your life simply because your parents told him to. 

Leo had a firm grip on your arm as if he were anticipating you’d try to flee with the guy you’d just met - yeah, you were desperate, but not that desperate. 

You paused for a moment, trying to think of how to reply. You didn’t want to cut the night short, you knew there was a zero percent chance you’d ever see this guy ever again if you did. But you felt Leon beginning to tug on your arm, insisting that you two leave. 

“I’ll see you soon, okay? I’ll… I’ll find a way.” You replied before reluctantly walking away with Leon. It was somewhat less pathetic than letting him drag you away. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The past hour or so, you’d been keeping the closest eye on the status of the Spring Ball you could form inside your room. You’d waited a full hour to hear the music from the grand hall to stop, and you did, you’d heard the liveliness of the dance slowly die out like a flame being extinguished. 

You still waited a few moments until you were sure most of the castle had been put to rest. By now, most of the staff would have returned to their quarters and gone to bed, right? You were sure it was safe to make your move now. Sneak out. You knew it was super risky, but you were also desperate. Desperate to something not controlled by your parents. Desperate to see that man. You hoped that of all people to be arranged married to, it’d be him. Maybe that was because you’d had little interaction with many men before this, but you were head over heels. 

You took a lantern in your hands and exited your room, quietly tiptoeing down the corridors of your quarter. The halls weren’t too dim thanks to some moonlight peering in through the windows. 

You weren’t exactly sure where this after-party was, all you knew was that it was east of the kingdom, meaning you’d have to move toward the moon for guidance. You could probably ask around to try and locate a specific manor it’d be held in. 

You were only a few feet down the hall, just a little bit away from the round staircase tower you’d need to go down to reach the exit, barely away from your bedroom before you saw Leon approaching you from the dark. “Shit.” You muttered to yourself. Of course, you should’ve expected this. Leon had dark circles under his eyes, the guy never slept, and he was there when you told that man, you’d find a way to get to that party. 

“Come on now, back to bed.” Leon said simply in his gruff voice as he gestured to your room, his movements still somewhat stiff thanks to his armor that he was still wearing. He knew your plan; he didn’t even bother heading back to his quarters to change. He’d probably been waiting right there at the end of the hallway since he’d insisted, you’d go to bed. 

You stuttered out a reply, trying to talk your way out of it, make up some lie that you just wanted a midnight snack or something, but Leon saw right through your bullshit. He held your wrist again and brought you back to your room. 

“Your parents would be so disappointed.” Leon said, his tone sounding like he was scolding a naughty dog. 

You sat down on your bed, glancing out the door to the balcony. Climbing down would’ve been a more viable idea than trying to leave out the main exit. 

You crossed your arms and puffed out a sigh as you looked down at the floor. “I know.” you replied simply. 

“I’m not going to tell them, though, don’t worry.” Leon added as he gazed down at you. 

“That’s a shocker.” you mumbled out.

Leon tilted his head at that comment, he raised an eyebrow. That was probably the most expressive you’d ever seen him before this moment. 

“Why’s that?” he asked. 

“You’re so loyal to my parents, you do every damn thing they tell you to. You spent the whole night standing against a pillar and watching over me like a stalker just because that’s what they ordered you to. Could’ve danced with any pretty girl or guy in there you wanted to.” You replied as you looked up at him, standing up to look him in the eye. 

His expression softened slightly, lips moving upwards although it wasn’t entirely a smile. Not yet at least. 

“You think I did that just because your parents asked?” he asked you, sounding somewhat amused. It wasn’t usual for Leon to be this expressive, even though now he was still barely showing any emotion. 

“Yeah, why else would you do that?” You asked, still looking up at Leon. You felt his hands gently brush against the side of your neck. He wasn’t very touchy - at least, not like this. You were used to him grabbing your wrist whenever he wanted to keep you in sight, but this? “I… I wanted to dance with you.” he admitted, his words coming out with a sigh, his voice still as soft and gentle as ever. 

You were puzzled by that response. Surely, he was joking. Surely, he didn’t actually mean it, he didn’t actually have feelings for you. 

All your thoughts became a messy blur as you felt his lips crash against yours and pull back just as fast. His cheeks were slightly pink, he looked more embarrassed than anything. 

“Sorry,” he apologized. He felt like he’d done something dirty. He was your knight, hired to protect you, not to fall for you and kiss you without at least asking first. What happened to his chivalry? Leon revoked his hand from your neck, looking down as if he were ashamed. “No, it’s fine.” You assured him, wrapping your fingers around his hand and gently guiding his hand onto your cheek. “Don’t apologize, I… I liked it.” 

All these years you’d longed for a man had turned you desperate. Tonight, you’d been willing to sneak out alone in order to go see one. All this time, you’d had a man head over heels for you right in your reach. Perfectly attainable. You just didn’t realize it. 

How could you? Leon was quiet and reserved. Tonight was the first time you’d seen his face change from an always annoyed one to literally any other emotion. How could you have known? 

Your head was flooded with thoughts, the rational part of your brain was drowning in all the thoughts yelling at you to kiss him again. You were so, so desperate. You pulled Leon in for another kiss and felt him wrap his large arms around your waist, kissing you sloppily. Clearly, he was as desperate for you as you were for him. You pulled him onto your bed, underneath the frame with the pretty canopy, resting against the cushioned headboard.

You sat on his lap; he pulled away from the kisses and gasped. The armor he was wearing was probably the worst thing he could have a boner in. He shifted around uncomfortably and bit his bottom lip to keep himself from moaning. 

“Fuck.” he grunted, out of breath. 

“What is it, what’s wrong?” you asked quietly, as if you were scared your parents would hear. You knew logically they wouldn’t - their quarters were across the whole damn castle. You could moan like a slut all you wanted all night long and they’d still be resting peacefully, not a clue in the world you’d been up fucking your knight. 

“I’m-I’m hard...” Leon admitted, audibly embarrassed by his situation. You pulled back a little from his lap, allowing him to pull off his bottoms desperately, tossing them aside. 

Despite your room still being dim, the only light source coming from the moonlight sneaking its way in through your sheer curtains, you managed to see the large bulge in Leon’s boxers, a few tiny wet spots from some pre-cum. 

Leon had been waiting to fuck you for what felt like forever. He’d been head over heels longer than he’d like to admit, and he’d spent more nights in his private bathroom pumping his cock with his fists while staring at pictures of you than he’d like to admit. 

You felt yourself begin to drip in your panties at the sight. You were horny, you were so fucking horny. You hadn’t felt the touch of a man ever. At least, not like this. And you were just desperate to experience this intimacy. You longed to feel a man’s cock inside you, as embarrassing as it was to admit. Leon removed the chest plate armor on him, tearing everything off of him like a wild animal. Like he couldn’t contain how bad he wanted to fuck you. You did the same, you stripped down on your bed until you were just in panties. 

You took a moment to admire Leon’s body all while he admired yours. He’d seen the outline of your body when you’d worn tight clothes in the past, but you were a thousand times sexier than he could’ve imagined. He felt his dick throb as his eyes fixated on your nipples, your pretty tits… 

You’d never seen Leon in anything other than that stiff armor, so you had spent the years completely unaware that he’d been jacked this whole time. His arms were toned and muscular, not to mention his abs… where did he even get the time to work out when he spent so much of his time watching you. 

“So fucking hot...” you whispered to Leon as you felt on his abs, feeling his happy trail brush against your hand. Leon let out a pathetic whine at the touch. 

He stared up at you. He’d been working here to protect you. He was working with your parents; he agreed with them that he’d protect you. But he’d gotten too close to you, and now… He couldn’t help his feelings. Even though he knew he should do anything but fuck you, even though you seemed so willing for his dick, he couldn’t help himself. You were the forbidden fruit he just couldn’t resist. 

Leon gently grabbed your hips, his grip on you gentler than ever. You gently grinded against him, rubbing your clothed pussy against his dick that was still restrained by his boxers. 

“Oh fuck, don’t we need protection? We should use some, right? I-” Leon stuttered, his face visibly becoming more and more pink with every word that he let slip from his lips. “Fuck it, it’s fine, I just want you… I-I need this.” you stuttered out desperately. It was almost cute how desperate you two were for each other, in a pathetic way. 

You peeled down the fabric of Leon’s boxers slowly, a smirk crawling on your lips as you watched his hard cock spring out excitedly, the red leaking tip desperately begging for your pussy. 

You gently slid down your panties, down past your ankles before tossing them aside, not caring about where they’d land. 

Leon’s face was bright pink at this point, he was resting back against the headboard as you gently stroked his cock, sizing him up mentally, imagining how good it’d feel when you finally felt this long dick inside you. Leon whimpered as he felt your soft fingers wrapped around his shaft, moving up and down at an agonizingly slow pace. 

“Please-” he gasped out, his tone abnormally whiny. He looked at you with puppy eyes, silently begging you to stop teasing and just bounce on his cock already.

You leaned closer to him and gently kissed him before positioning yourself on top of him, his tip right at your entrance. You whined as you slowly lowered yourself down, feeling his dick slowly slide between your legs. He felt incredible.

Leon was already hot and sweaty just feeling you on top of him, seeing your face contort with pleasure as you took his dick inside you. 

“So… so fucking tight…” he grunted out between desperate pants and gasps for air. Leon shut his eyes as he leaned back, staring up at your ceiling as he tried adjusting to the sensation of your tight walls practically milking his cock. 

You were whining loudly, not used to the sensation just yet, but after a second you managed to quiet down. 

“Feels so fucking good…” You moaned quietly as you placed one hand on Leon’s cheek. You leaned back slightly and sighed, taking in a few deep breaths before beginning to push yourself up and down, bouncing on Leon’s dick. 

Leon’s whimpers grew louder with each bounce; his eyes clenching shut for a few moments as you rode his dick. He was never one to be vocal in any situation, but now? He couldn’t stop the moans and whimpers that were escaping his lips. He was moaning like a whore. 

God, this felt wrong. He was supposed to protect you, keep you safe for your parents, now encourage you to ride him raw. But God, it felt so right, and your parents didn’t need to know about your fun time with your little knight. 

“Ah... ah… Leon...” you breathed as you kept bouncing on his cock at a steady, somewhat swift pace, your pussy desperately clutching onto his dick, not wanting this moment to even end. 

Your hand moved down Leon’s cheek as you admired his beauty. His eyes were welling up with tears, ashamedly. Leon’s dick was so sensitive, he hadn’t fucked a real pussy in years, this just felt so damn good to him. 

Leon moaned your name desperately as you leaned forward to kiss him, wanting to soothe his tears. “You’re doing so good… you feel so fucking good in me, Leon...” You moaned out, not bothering to quiet yourself. Leon’s eyes were glued to your chest, enjoying the way your tits bounced with each movement.

You were progressively getting louder and louder as you kept riding. Leon gripped your hips a bit tighter. “Your pussy feels amazing, baby…” Leon grunted out quietly, some tears beginning to slip as he felt his balls tighten up slightly in anticipation of an orgasm. 

Poor boy had been trying to hold it in this whole time. He’d been leaking precum since you pushed him onto the bed. If he wasn’t trying to wait for you to cum with him, he would’ve come while you were stroking him.

“You’re doing this so well, ah, fuck...” he added, his eyes shutting involuntarily as you moved your hand up and down his abs, your touch was intoxicating. “You ride so damn good…” he whispered to you, his hand rubbing your side. You began bouncing a bit faster, feeling his tip occasionally brush against your spongy spot. You moved your fingers down, gently rubbing circles into your clit.

“Ah! Fuck!” you squeaked as you felt his tip finally slam against your spot, making your whole-body twitch with pleasure. Leon felt you clench around his cock, causing him to whine out as his hips involuntarily bucked up into you, his tip pressing deeper into your spot. 

Leon bit his lip as he felt more tears leak, his vision blurry as he looked up at you. You wiped his tears as you kept bouncing on his dick. “So fucking good, you’re going to make me cum, you feel so good…” you breathed.

“Fuck… so tight, so wet, so perfect I- I’m gonna cum..!” Leon gasped out, his hips thrusting up involuntarily and beginning to stutter as he watched you squirm. You leaned your head back, squealing desperately as you felt yourself peak, squirting warm juices all over his abdomen. Your head was fuzzy, and you were dizzy in the aftermath of your orgasm. God, you didn’t even know you could squirt. Who knew Leon’s dick was all it took? 

Leon tightened his grip on your hips, forcing you down and still as he came, releasing his hot seed deep inside you. He sat there for a few moments before finally relaxing back down onto the bed as you pulled off of him, his cum dripping from between your legs. 

“Oh, fuck, baby… I should’ve pulled out, ‘m so sorry…” Leon said quietly as he gently rubbed your back. 

“It’s fine…” you assured him, your lips gently pressing against his neck as you rested against him. You were both sweaty, laying together in your bed as you pulled over the fluffy comforters to cover up your guys’ nude bodies. 

God, your parents would be pissed if they found out. If they knew the man they hired to protect their precious kid, heir to the throne, had fucked them raw in their bed in the castle they all lived in. And they’d be upset at you, too, for developing a relationship with someone that wasn’t arranged. The other staff would talk. The knights would be shocked that one of them had been so bold to do such a thing. The maids wouldn’t be happy having to clean up your bed. 

But right now, that didn’t matter. All that mattered to you was lying down next to a man who loved you; something you’d been wanting for forever. 

[lotties-ashwagandha]

OFFERINGS

poly!adult!yellowjackets x fem!reader

NSFW! you try to blackmail them for money, but end up with them on your doorstep, and they’re ready to kill you until they realize who you are. the anons were going to smite me down if i didn’t write this, so enjoy :) toxic weirdo shit in this fic so consider this your formal warning. AU where lottie still has her wellness center bc miss cult leader deserves to be happy. also misty is mentioned in this fic but she doesn’t get busy bc in my head she’s ace and possibly aro and I have to follow that.

“You should go,” Lottie says, pulling on a robe. “You’ll be late for work.”

In theory, you could stay for another hour or so, if this wasn’t all so transactional — but you know she doesn’t like the idea of anyone seeing you sneaking away out of her cabin in the mornings, so she sends you away at dawn. If she had more self control, she would have you out before that — but the nights you come over to the wellness center are the only nights Lottie allows herself to really be free, and the two of you usually end up drinking or smoking something so potent that you don’t remember making it into bed together in the first place.

And most of the time, Natalie is no help — she hasn’t been ever since she and Lottie started dating, and you started coming over to be shared between them.

You don’t know how Lottie still manages to function at such an early hour afterwards, and every time, while Natalie sleeps in. If it were up to you, you’d take a full day of recovery. Instead you are on the road driving at sunrise back to your apartment, so that you can change and look somewhat presentable at work in a few hours.

You don’t feel bad about the letter you slipped into their mailbox this time. You should, but you don’t — and you don’t regret sending variations of the same to the rest of the Yellowjackets, because all of them are wealthier than you, and even if you were to receive double the amount of money you were blackmailing them for, it wouldn’t put financial strain on them at all. And now, above all, you need extra money — the current financial landscape makes it nearly impossible to get a job that pays well enough for you to live comfortably.

While you’re driving, your phone starts to ring. The caller ID surprises you with Shauna Sadecki.

“I need you to stop by the house,” she says as soon as you pick up. “It’s important.”

You haven’t spoken to Shauna in a long time. You’re older than her daughter by a long shot, but your families are familiar since your younger sister has been best friends with Callie since she started high school and you were already in college. “Is everything okay?”

“I know you sell Callie weed,” Shauna states.

That’s new. It’s not true, either — not really. “I don’t sell your daughter weed.”

“You give it to someone who gives it to someone who gives it to her,” Shauna sighs. You can’t deny that. “I don’t mind. But she’s run out, and I… I’m going through some shit, and I need you to stop by with your magic shit.”

__

Shauna lights the first joint in front of you. She savors the smoke, closing her eyes for a moment as new calmness sweeps over her features.

“Is everything alright?” You ask. Out of the corner of your eye you see the envelope you sent.

She opens her eyes and unpromptedly glances down at the envelope before turning to look out the kitchen window. “Everything’s fine.”

You nod, clearing your throat awkwardly and pocketing the money she hands you.

“What about you?” Shauna asks. “Haven’t seen you in a long time. Your sister still comes over at least three times a week, though.”

“I’ve been working,” you say carefully, but with the necessary authority in your voice to make your tasks sound big and important.

“On this enterprise you’ve got?” Shauna looks down at everything she bought from you.

“And other things,” you shake your head.

“So mysterious,” she mocks you. “Well, good luck with all of your… other things.”

__

“Hey,” Taissa sits down on the couch next to Van. She hands her the letter. “This was in the mailbox today.”

“What is it?” Van looks up from the box of tapes she had been sorting through.

“Open it.”

Van opens the envelope and reads what lies inside. When she’s done she closes the envelope and rips it in half.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s bullshit,” Van shrugs. “No one’s going to expose anything we did. No one knows anything.”

Taissa shakes her head. “Should we really take that chance, though?”

Van hesitates. “What would we do, anyway? I’m not giving anyone money.”

“Maybe we don’t have to. We could—”

“We’re not killing anyone, either,” Van interrupts, and even though her concern dissipates a bit when Taissa grabs her hand, she is stern.

“I’m going to call Misty,” Taissa decides. “If anyone knows what to do with a blackmailer, it’s that crazy bitch.”

__

Your next stop was a test of luck.

You had a growing suspicion that Melissa, a woman that was meant to be long dead, was living the suburban dream instead of rotting in a grave. You had done some deep diving on what really happened to the Yellowjackets, and some conspiracies you found online matched with some other research — and a few things Lottie and Nat said when you were unreasonably high with them one night — led you to locate Melissa alive and well in a new house with a new name and a wife that just so happened to be the daughter of a researcher killed in the wilderness.

You’ve driven by the house a few times now to make sure no one’s home. The only car left about half an hour ago, and from what you could gather it was the whole family that had left.

The final envelope rests in your hands. It will be simple to walk it up to the mailbox, you’re parked a ways down the street so that no one suspects you, but you’re still wrought with apprehension.

The mailbox, instead of being placed at the end of the street, is a drop box attached to the house next to the front door. It’s closer than you want to be to the house even with no one inside, but you gather your courage and try to act natural for anyone watching as you go up the front steps to occupy the porch.

You reach for the mailbox, but before you can slip the envelope inside, the front door swings open.

Shauna Sadecki meets your eyes. “You need to go.”

You pause, clutching the envelope. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” Shauna tightens her grip on a knife in her left hand. Then, she sees the envelope you hold, and recognition sweeps over her face. “What’s that?”

You don’t have time to answer. She rips it out of your hands and opens it, scanning over the letter within.

Shauna looks back up at you. “You fucking bitch.”

Another voice sounds from inside. “Who is it?”

Melissa joins Shauna in the doorway. There’s no doubt that it’s her, with the same quiet sureness that you remember from pictures of her taken forever ago. And if a resemblance to her past self wasn’t enough, she still wears that backwards fucking hat.

Melissa steals the letter from Shauna. “What is this?”

Shauna looks hesitant to say, guilty even. She speaks quietly, but you hear the fury in her voice. “She’s trying to blackmail us.”

Melissa crumples up the paper and faces Shauna. “So it wasn’t me.”

Shauna doesn’t meet her eyes.

“You thought it was Melissa?” You look between them and your gaze settles on Shauna’s knife. “Did you come here to…”

“And now it’s you,” Shauna pulls you inside and shuts the door. She points her knife at you, guiding you to go stand over by the fireplace. “You’re going to stay there until we decide what to do with you.”

You’re fucked — and the horrible thing is that you don’t really mind. You stand with Shauna Sadecki pointing a knife straight at your heart and while you are afraid, you embrace it. You have lived such an existence of monotony that part of you wants to take a step forward to find out what the point of the blade feels like against your chest, to see if she will drive it in the rest of the way. You want the intensity of her gaze pointed at you just as sharply, you want to bear her scorn.

“The rest are on their way,” Shauna says, coming closer. “Lottie, Natalie… What do you think they will do when they find out it’s been you behind this all along?”

You’re not sure how she knows. You’ve been discreet with your visits to the wellness center.

Shauna toys with the knife in her hands, glancing down at the paper Melissa holds. “Hand-delivering a blackmail threat. I didn’t think you were that stupid.”

You didn’t think any of it through. Your desperation had gotten the better of you and maybe, in the back of your mind, you had wanted to get caught. You wanted to feel powerful and in some way prove your defiance of the usual system of money honestly earned and a world where only the rich have the privilege of disobedience. You wanted to be caught and somehow praised for it.

You find no praise here. Death watches you.

“We could have you arrested,” Melissa stalks over. You realize she carries a knife now, too. “You could be fined, you could be put in prison… you wouldn’t survive it.”

You wouldn’t. You don’t know if you’ll survive this.

You hear a car pulling into the driveway. You stay still, even when Shauna lowers the knife and lets in the rest of the Yellowjackets.

They come inside one by one and suddenly you recall every horrible tale you’ve ever heard about their time in the wilderness. You remember the stories that they ate their own teammates, that they used to make sacrifices to an unnamed spirit and hope for salvation that was never truly received.

Lottie comes in first, and she is the first to notice you. She looks between you, Shauna, and Melissa, confusion etched into her features. “What’s going on?”

Shauna waits until the rest of them are inside before pointing the knife at you again. “It wasn’t Melissa. It was her.”

Lottie exchanges a look with Natalie, who stands at her side with the same look of surprise. Then Lottie approaches Shauna and grabs for the blade in her hand.

Shauna doesn’t let go. She looks up at her defiantly and a silent communication passes between the two of them that causes the rest of the room to fall silent.

Shauna lets go of the knife.

You take a step back instinctively when Lottie approaches with the knife. You can’t meet her eyes, not even when she steps so close to you that you can feel her breath on your neck when she leans slightly and speaks in a volume only you are meant to hear. “You spent so many nights with Nat and I, we thought you were ours, and you did this…”

“I needed money,” you say quietly.

“I would have given you money, love. All you had to do was ask,” Lottie moves back half a step and trails the knife down to the hollow of your throat. Greater authority comes into her voice. “There are three ways out of this for you. The first is you leave, you leave and for your own good we never see or hear from you again. The second way is that you give us something in return, a repentance. You give us an appeasement and we all carry on like we used to. And the third way…” Lottie lifts your chin with the flat side of the knife. You meet her eyes, and you understand her implication, that in the third way your blood is spilled for It and everything you read about the Yellowjackets becomes true. “What will it be?”

Your breath catches in your throat and for a moment you can barely breathe as you acclimate to the feeling of the knife, but you’ve already made up your mind. You don’t want to die, and you don’t want to leave. You want them. You want to beg for their forgiveness. “The second way.”

“The second way,” Lottie repeats, removing the knife and stepping behind you, circling you. “What will you give us?”

“Anything you want.”

She stops in front of you. “That’s not how offerings work. You don’t ask, you give.”

You hesitate. You know what you want to give, you know what she wants you to give, but you’re not sure if anyone else shares the same idea.

“You can pick a different answer if you’d like,” Lottie says casually, like she’s not offering isolation or death, “but you have to decide now.”

You have known what you’ve wanted since you started all of this, even if you never fully admitted to it. So there is no fear or regret or horror living in you when you step up to her and kiss her. Her arms slide around you, one hand pulling at your hair and driving you closer to her. You hear the metallic clink of the knife dropping to the floor.

Someone else is behind you now, pressing up against your back. You can tell instantly that it’s Nat — you have been down this road before. She reaches for your shirt, greedily pulling it over your head before latching onto your neck and sucking angry marks onto your skin. Her nails dig into your sides, and you moan when she pulls you closer back against her.

Lottie is pulled away from you by Melissa, who isn’t so apt to share you. You run your hands along the defined muscles of her shoulders as she kisses you, and you gasp when she tugs you forward and leads you into the bedroom. She gets impatient before you can reach the bed, instead shoving you back up against the wall.

She’s about to get on her knees in front of you when Shauna pushes her away.

You meet Shauna’s eyes for a moment. You both know that this will not leave you after, that the way your families have been innocently entwined will be poisoned. But she shoves her fingers into your mouth and you suck on them anyway. And you let her, and again Natalie who has returned, leads you over to the bed.

It’s Taissa and Van, though, who pin you down onto it. Taissa doesn’t let you watch the rest of them caught up in each other kissing and sucking and moaning, and Van takes over and straddles you once the two of them have rid you of the rest of your clothes. She leans down, shifting to suck at your collarbones, moaning against your skin.

“So beautiful, isn’t she?” Taissa agrees, hand trailing against your jaw as she looks just as far gone at the sight of you beneath her girlfriend. She speaks about you like you can’t hear. “She’ll look so gorgeous when she cums for us.”

Lottie joins you on the bed. She looks down at Van with something akin to annoyance. “Let me have her.”

“You’ve already had your turn.”

“No,” Lottie argues, but her protests are silenced when Nat comes over and pulls her against her, and for the moment she’s satisfied. And you’re happy with the solution too, every inch of you burning with need for them with Van settling between your legs as you watch Natalie pull Lottie’s dress down and slide a hand down to rub at her clit. You moan at the sight, and the two of them notice, Lottie’s gaze a heavy pressure on you until Nat slides two fingers inside of her and Lottie throws her head back against the other woman’s shoulder.

At the same time, Van licks through your folds, tongue sliding lazily over your clit. You gasp and Taissa leans down to kiss you, and somewhere close you hear Shauna’s whispered praise to you and Melissa moaning as god-knows-who is touching her.

It’s building quickly, the heat between your thighs that’s growing into something so fervent and agonizingly intense that the moans that escape you are embarrassing, and the speed at which they’ve taken you to the edge of release even more.

“Watch her, she’s so close,” you hear Natalie whisper to Lottie. “Watch her cum from seeing us.”

Van sucks your clit into her mouth, working her fingers inside of you, your wetness coating her chin and hand. And then Taissa straddles your face, lowering herself down onto your mouth, and your hands are shaking as you pull her closer and start to lick through her wetness.

Someone pulls Van away from you — Shauna.

“Don’t let her cum yet,” she orders. “Not until the rest of us have.”

im on my period btw and everyone needs to know because i am very angry about it. wrote this on my typewriter bluetooth keyboard like a true gangster of irredeemable sin, a glutton of tickled toes and one jolly fellow of olden days. comment/reblog if you enjoyed :)

masterlist | ko-fi/“buy me a $2 coffee” | taglist form

[heeseungiez]

love letter | chapter 1

— with love, your admirer

your whole life, you’ve only known one thing: relaying love letters. but what happens when one of those letters is addressed to you?

— pairings! enhypen hyung line x fem!reader: heeseung x reader; jay x reader; jake x reader; sunghoon x reader

— featuring! enhypen members, haewon from nmixx, yuna from itzy

— genre! romcom, high school au, found family, fluff, angst

— warnings! profanity, lots of self-doubt and low self-esteem, possessive hyung line

— wc! 5k+

— a/n! to celebrate the fact that i managed to get vip1 for one of the european stops, we shall celebrate with the first chapter to this fic, i actually wrote this months back but since i didn't have the motivation to write the other chapters, i left it be... ANYWAYS now i'm writing the update to Tower by the Forest and will make something of this series, we trust!!!

previous | masterlist | next

Dear Y/N,

I know you might think this is a cowardly way of expressing my affections toward you, but I’ll admit I don’t know how else to do this.

I don’t think I’m anyone you would normally notice, considering the company you keep, but I’ve noticed you. I see you every day, always laughing and keeping your chin up even when you’re upset.

My heart has been acting up since the first day I saw you, running across the school courtyard just to tell one of your brothers that you aced your English exam. I remember the way your eyes sparkled as if they had stars in them. I remember the way your voice carried through the air like the sweetest lullaby, and I remember your smile and your giggle — something a picture nor a video could not capture in its raw beauty. 

If I’m being completely honest with you, I’ve been drafting this letter for over a month, so I hope you can accept it, and the sincere feelings I am trying to convey. 

With love, your admirer.

“That’s…”

“Cheesy,” Sunoo says, giggling to himself. “I can sense the glasses on this guy. He totally wears them.”

“Based on a letter?” You raise your brow at him.

“It kinda sounds like something Jay would write. In one of his songs or something,” Haewon points out with a shrug. “He wears glasses, doesn’t he?”

“How does that make this guy someone with glasses, though?” You wave the love letter in the air, your friends all gathered around you to have a clear view of it. 

“It’s the aura,” Yuna agrees with the rest of your friends. “And he said he’s someone you wouldn’t notice, so what if this guy’s a nerd or something? You don’t really notice the studious types…”

“He could be the Heeseung type of a nerd, though, so not a bad thing at all.” Haewon grins, nodding her head.

“We have to find out who wrote this,” Sunoo claims, snatching the letter from you. He stares at it mischievously, examining the handwriting — the strokes of the pen, the spacing, the tilt of the letters — it can say a lot about a person. 

“Who wrote what?” 

You turn abruptly, surprised to see Jake at your lunch table. But when he hands you a small pack of sour gummy worms (your favourite brand, too), you think that you should’ve expected this. Jake never misses a day to give you a snack. 

“Thanks,” you mumble under your breath, but Jake’s attention is already elsewhere. Giving you snacks is a tradition so embedded into his daily routine that he doesn’t even expect you to be thankful. But you are, every single day, you find it quite touching that he always makes the time to think of you.

But now, he’s become invested in the letter in Sunoo’s hands rather than you. “Are you reading a love letter? Did someone give you one? That’s awesome.”

“It’s not mine,” Sunoo replies, not even looking at Jake before giving it back to you. “It’s for Y/N.” Grinning proudly, Sunoo’s hands reach for the envelope instead. 

“She has a secret admirer,” Haewon explains giddily. 

“You don’t know who it is?” Jake’s brows furrow in distaste. “That could be dangerous, Y/N. Who knows what kind of person that could be if they can’t even put their name on a stupid letter.”

“Do your letters always have signatures?” you ask, looking him in the eye.

Jake pouts, rubbing the back of his neck. “Usually, they do,” he says, but you’re already rolling your eyes. “I’m serious, Y/N. This guy could be a weirdo.”

“But they don’t have to be,” Yuna says, disagreeing with Jake. “It’s not like she’ll be meeting him right now or anything.”

“There’s no point, Jake. I already tried,” Jungwon sighs, shaking his head. “Let them do whatever they want. It’s probably going to die down the moment they find out who it is.”

Jake runs a hand through his hair, a frown forming on his lips, though he does his best to pretend like it doesn’t bother him when you glance at him.

“I’ve never had anyone interested in me,” you say rather matter-of-fact, shrugging. “I’ve always been giving you guys love letters. So I’m allowed to be a little curious, don’t you think?” you ask with a raised brow, the corner of your mouth raised in a tiny smirk. 

And if there is a spark of a certain emotion in Jake’s eyes then you both choose to ignore it because why would he be bothered by some random guy being interested in you? Oh, right — he’s supposed to be like an older brother to you. He’s supposed to be protective of you because he doesn’t want to see you hurt. If there are any other reasons for these feelings of anger, then he is totally unaware of them.

“You’ve had plenty of guys that were interested in you,” Jake claims confidently, and your brow shoots up. Because it occurs to him then that those plenty of guys he speaks of never dared to approach you. He knows of them, but you don’t, and he really fucked up by letting the fact slip. God, if the other guys find out that he told you, they’re going to kill him.

“I mean, like, probably,” he adds nervously, but the damage has been done. Your eyes are narrowed at him, wondering what exactly he meant by his words. 

“Of course, there’s plenty of guys. Y/N is pretty as hell!” Yuna exclaims, grinning at you. “But, the fact is, none of them have ever approached her or tried to give her a love letter until now, so…”

“This guy’s special,” Haewon finishes, agreeing with her friend. 

“Not that special, or he would’ve signed it,” Jake mumbles under his breath, rolling his eyes. 

Jungwon, the only person who heard him, pats Jake’s back with a resigned expression on his face. “Just let them be. The more you’re against it, the more they’ll push toward it.”

“So who do you think it could be?” you ask your friends.

You spent the whole day walking around school, trying to figure out who could possibly be the author of the letter you received, but neither you nor your friends came to much of a conclusion. The letter was fairly vague and you had nothing to go by other than your own theories of what the person could look like.

So, obviously, your mood is slightly down when you’re heading home with Jay and Sunghoon walking by each side of you. They seem fairly clueless, so Jake probably hasn’t told them about the letter yet, but it might be better if you are the one to tell them. All of them, in fact, not each of them, one by one. But Jake and Heeseung both have practice for the respective sport they play, and as soon as you, Jay and Sunghoon reach your building, they also have responsibilities to get to — the band and figure skating. 

It’s okay, though. You’ll tell them later. After all, this is something to gloat about — but you would rather know who gave you the letter first.

“You’re strangely quiet today,” Jay points out, nudging you with his elbow. He chuckles softly, when he sees your glare and the slight pout on your lips for daring to hit you. “I mean, it’s normal for him, but you usually have things to say about school.”

“Right. Yes,” you say, nodding. But there isn’t much you want to tell them besides the situation with the letter — and you can’t tell them unless it’s all of them. It’s not the right time yet. Instead, when the three of you stop at the bus stop together, you take off your backpack to pull out the new letters you received for Jay and Sunghoon.

“Here, take this.” You put their respective paper bags in their hands with a grin. “Today’s been pretty productive. I mean, I guess all the girls just felt like I’ll pick it up since I was kinda walking around school like an idiot, but it’s whatever,” you explain with a shrug. “Gosh, I really am becoming an office worker. Is this my calling?”

“You can do better than that, Y/N.” Jay shakes his head, laughing softly. “You can just tell the girls to stop giving the letters to you, you know? He doesn’t read them anyway.” Jay pushes Sunghoon teasingly.

“And you do?” Sunghoon raises his brow at him, rolling his eyes.

“Of course! It’s inspiration,” Jay says, grabbing a handful of the letters from his bag. “As long as they’re not full of mistakes and actually well written.”

“That just sounds like you’re just plagiarizing your own love letters,” you mutter, and Sunghoon chuckles, giving you a fist bump. “Do your letters have signatures? So you can give credits, you know.”

“Most of the time it’s at least initials.” Jay shrugs, not thinking much of your question, but you hum. “And their numbers, so I can contact them if I’m interested, but that’s pretty dumb. Who becomes interested in anyone over one letter?”

You frown. “Well, maybe people who don’t have many other options,” you say defensively, crossing your arms.

Jay and Sunghoon furrow their brows, exchanging looks but say nothing about your attitude. Instead, Sunghoon shakes his head and says: “There are always options, Y/N.”

“For people like you,” you remark, driving the guys’ confusion even further as they stare at you. 

“Where’s that coming from? Did something happen today that we should know about?” Jay asks, examining you with the gaze of his that tells you he can read you like an open book. But you shake your head.

“No,” you lie, and Jay knows it. “Nothing much happened today.”

“If someone told you something…” Sunghoon starts, puffing out his chest, “I can fight.”

“So can I.” You roll your eyes, shoving him with your shoulder. “But no one said anything. I’ve just been thinking,” you try to explain yourself, waving your hands in disinterest to move on from the topic. “Ah, look, there’s our bus.” You welcome the distraction with a smile.

“We’re hanging out at Jake’s place tonight, right?” Sunghoon asks, affirming the plans for after dinner.

“No, Heeseung’s. He said he’ll be cooking ramen,” Jay replies, looking pointedly at you. Tilting your head and smiling innocently, you bat your eyelashes, well aware of the fact that you are the reason why. But you’ve been craving ramen for what feels like ages now, and Heeseung makes it the best.

After the three of you get on the bus, you mostly listen to Jay’s extensive rant about math homework that he didn’t do and was promptly punished for. Because, yes, it’s totally the teacher’s fault that he didn’t do the homework he had an entire week to work on.

You enter the Lee apartment without knocking or any kind of warning, really. But the door is usually unlocked, and since your families are used to all of you constantly coming over, nobody makes a huge deal out of it.

Heeseung is in the kitchen, already preparing his things for ramen. There are seven packs of Shin Ramyun scattered across the table, and you watch Heeseung beat the eggs in his own weird — unique — way that he says makes them taste much better than if he did it like any other normal person would. His dedication to making ramen properly is unyielding, though, and you smile as you watch him move around the kitchen.

“Need any help?” you ask with a raised brow, and Heeseung startles at the sound of your voice, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“Y/N, you’re here already?” he asks, and you shrug.

“I had nothing else to do. Parents are still working.” The thing is, while you appreciate your parents for constantly working to put food on your table, you’d appreciate it if they could also be at the table sometimes. But you got used to either cooking for yourself, or going over to any of the other guys’ homes to eat dinner with their families.

Heeseung gives you a look, sighing. “You didn’t eat at all, did you?” he asks knowingly, shaking his head in disapproval. “It’s an unhealthy habit, Y/N, you know that, right?”

“I’m just not hungry,” you defend yourself, but Heeseung smacks his lips together.

“That’s not a reason not to eat. You should always eat at least a little bit,” he sighs, crossing the kitchen to open a cabinet. “Come here,” he says, handing you a protein bar. “Eat that first. I’ll make the ramen fast.”

“Hee,” you call his name, and when he looks at you, you give him a downturned smile. “Thank you.”

Heeseung chuckles and shakes his head. “Just eat it. I couldn’t possibly let you eat ice cream on an empty stomach.”

“There’s ice cream?” Your eyes widen.

“Not if you don’t eat.”

You pout. “Then cook faster.”

“Do you want to make the ramen yourself?”

“I don’t know who said that. Maybe you’re just hearing voices.” You look around yourself, pretending not to have made any remark earlier. Heeseung rolls his eyes playfully, his focus half on you, and half on the ramen he’s preparing. 

While Heeseung measures the water for the portions, you open each pack of ramen, taking out the seasoning for them, so you can combine it together in the water. Every time Heeseung glances at you, you also make a big show of taking a bite from the protein bar he gave you earlier, making him laugh each time.

“Yoi, I’m exhausted!” Jake barges inside the Lee apartment with a huff, heading toward the living room without as much as a glance toward you and Heeseung in the kitchen. He plops down on the sofa, completely taking over the piece of furniture while nobody else is here. “Coach made me do laps around the field for no reason, and then I had to stay longer to help Riki — the new kid that got onto the team.”

“He’s crazy good and has a lot of potential but… still needs a lot of work.” Jake runs a hand through his hair, finally bothering to glance at you and Heeseung. Although you’re both listening, the two of you also focus on making ramen together. 

“Maybe he’ll be the captain after you go to college. If you teach him right,” Heeseung says, cutting some spring onions to put into the broth. 

“Maybe,” Jake hums. “You got anyone for basketball captain yet?”

“Nah. But we’re figuring it out,” says Heeseung confidently. “I’ve got my eye on Jihoo and Nicholas. They’ve got potential too.”

Jake hums, nodding. He stretches his body out on the sofa, head hanging over the armrest. “Hey, Y/N, have you mentioned—”

“Not yet, so please, keep it to yourself,” you stop him before he gets to finish the sentence, glancing at Heeseung uneasily. The boy is already looking between you and Jake with his eyes narrowed. “I’ll tell you when Jay and Sunghoon get here,” you reassure him with a sigh. 

“Then why does Jake know?” Heeseung’s voice is hurt, the tiny pout and his large eyes making your resolve falter. But you shake your head with a soft giggle. 

“Good timing on his side,” you reply, sticking your tongue out at the boy sprawled on the sofa. He just makes a silly face in return. “Which actually reminds me, I need to go get your letters!”

Since you’re waiting for the water to boil, you want to run the few meters to your home, but Heeseung grabs your wrist and stops you. The expression on his face says enough you need to know — he doesn’t want the letters. 

“But—” you want to argue, not entirely sure why you want to defend the work of random girls at school, but your heart dips into your stomach with Heeseung’s hand still wrapped around your wrist. The least he could do is appreciate the work people put into admiring him. 

“I’m not interested anyway.” Heeseung shakes his head. 

“But I got so many today. I need to—”

“Just trash them, Y/N, it doesn’t matter.” Heeseung shrugs nonchalantly, and it bothers you.

Maybe you’re overreacting because for the first time in your life, you also received a love letter of your own, and you actually treasure it. But you’d expect Heeseung to take them at least. So he can throw them out himself. Not have you do it. 

“Y/N?” Heeseung notices your frown, of course, he does. But he figured since you’re partially bothered — though never say so — with people constantly making you relay love letters that it would be easier to just tell you to throw them out and let it be. 

Maybe it would be easier to say that reading them doesn’t do anything for him. It isn’t a productive way of spending time anyway, when he knows that he won’t be interested in any of the girls trying to reach him. But that would mean he’d also have to explain why he’s so uninterested. And he’d rather keep that secret to himself. All while he watches you pout, staring up at him with the biggest puppy eyes known to man.

You look so cute, and you don’t even realize what it does to him. So he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Just… bring them. I’ll watch the ramen.”

The corners of your lips instantly lift in a grin, and Heeseung feels like tearing his hair out as he watches you run away. 

Jake, who watched the whole interaction, laughs sympathetically. It’s almost comical how oblivious you are to them, but it makes sense in a way. After all, it’s you who’s been calling them your family. “You shouldn’t have said to trash the letters, man,” he says with a shake of his head. 

“I thought it’d be easier,” Heeseung says defensively. 

Jake purses his lips in disapproval. He’ll respect your wish not to tell Heeseung about the love letter yet, but there is another confession he has to make because there are almost no secrets between the five of you.

“She thinks nobody likes her, y’know.” Jake stares up at the ceiling as he says it, slightly in disbelief. “And I may have accidentally let it slip that a lot of people do like her, actually.”

“Did you—”

“God no, she’d kill us.” Jake shakes his head vigorously, glancing at Heeseung whose attention is back to the ramen. “I mean, we can always just say the guys at school totally respect us so much they don’t wanna mess with our younger ‘sister’,” he says the last word with such disgust it makes Heeseung chuckle. 

“Damn, it smells amazing in here.” The door opens with new guests coming inside the apartment. Jake and Heeseung greet Jay with an acknowledging nod. “Did Y/N not get here yet?”

“She’s just getting our letters,” Heeseung replies with a sigh. “I told her to get rid of them but she didn’t like that.”

“Oh yeah, something’s been kinda off today. Did she tell you anything?” Jay furrows his brows, glancing between his two friends. 

Jake and Heeseung exchange glances. “I think we all need to talk later,” Jake sighs just as the door opens to you giggling about something with Sunghoon on your tail. 

“Oh, hello, Jay,” you greet the boy with a smile on your face.

Crossing the room, you put Heeseung’s bag with letters on the kitchen counter. Jake’s ends up on the coffee table. But one letter remains in your hands as the boys’ attention remains on you. Jake recognizes it immediately, while the others stare with narrowed eyes, tilting their heads in confusion. 

“Look, guys!” You wave the letter in the air with a grin. “I got a love letter today.” Your giggle reverberates through the open space of the apartment. “Can you believe it? Someone actually likes me.”

Jake huffs in disappointment while the others gape in disbelief. On one hand, they do not like the fact you received a love letter, but their frowns only deepen at the soft, excited tone of your voice that reveals how little confidence you actually have in yourself. 

“Yeah, we believe it,” Jay mumbles under his breath, glaring at the paper in your hand. “Is that why you were so upset earlier? I mean, love letters don’t really mean much if the person can’t just face you.”

“It doesn’t even have a signature,” Jake adds, still spread over the sofa. Though he changed positions and is now resting his head on his arms. “What is the point if you have to guess at who it is? Shouldn’t he be the one to come to you?”

“Yeah, I’d also rather have someone come up to me and just tell me to my face that they like me,” Sunghoon agrees with the guys, nodding. They’re not jealous, obviously, because they have no reason to be, but they definitely want to protect you.

“One of your letters from today is from Jang Wonyoung, Hoon.” You frown, not sharing the same opinion as the others. “You could read it, at least.”

Heeseung remains quiet, attending to the ramen that is finished by now. 

“Why? It won’t change the fact that I’m not interested.” Sunghoon shrugs and your frown deepens, shoulders dropping in disappointment.

Why are they trying to make you feel bad about this? Just because they get love letters every day and it’s not as meaningful to them anymore, it doesn’t mean your love letter isn’t a big deal. 

“But it’s Jang Wonyoung,” you say weakly. “She’s the prettiest girl in my year, and she’s so sweet… I actually don’t even know why she bothers with you, really.” You shake your head, dropping your letter on the counter next to Heeseung’s full bag of letters. Your one compared to his twenty or so feel so… sad. And it makes you furious, too.

Sunoo is right. You really do live your life only as the girl that talks to them. “And you! You have a letter from Huh Yunjin in that pile! But all you’re going to do is possibly use it as inspiration for one of your songs without actually caring about her.” You point at Jay with a pout before aiming your glare at Jake. “And you! There’s a letter from Ningning, but why would you care with the amount of letters you get anyway, right?” 

There isn’t much the guys can say to defend themselves. To be fair, they have nothing to defend in the first place, but you’re upset, and they realize that they are the source of it all.

“It’s not that we don’t care, Y/N,” Heeseung says softly, while still attending to the ramen, now portioning it carefully into five bowls. Yours gets most of the eggs since he knows you love them. “We’re just not looking for relationships. It’s our last year at school, and we have other things to focus on.”

“But why is it so wrong to like someone?” you cry out desperately, throwing your arms in the air with a dramatic huff. “People like you. Nobody actually likes me.” 

You hate being emotional like this, your eyes glossy with unshed tears, but you’ve never actually spoken any of these words out loud. It’s something that has been brewing and festering within you for years as you tried to ignore it. Now it’s overflowing, it seems. People don’t actually like you, though. They like the fact that you have a direct line to Heeseung, Jay, Jake and Sunghoon.

“At least not for me,” you add, your voice breaking.

“Y/N,” Jay tries to approach you, reaching out for your hand, but you pull away, yanking your arm out of his grip. He doesn’t let the hurt on his face show when you do that, respecting your space. 

“I need to be alone,” you say, wiping away a tear that has barely escaped. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

They can only watch you swiftly walk away from them, stunned by your words. They never realized how much this whole situation truly affected you, and they hate that they haven’t noticed earlier. 

Jake fully sits up once you're gone, another sigh leaving his lips. “I told you,” he says to Heeseung. “But we can’t exactly tell her the truth.”

“She’d kill us,” Jay agrees quietly, staring at the letter you left behind. A letter that slipped past them — that, if they were more careful — would have never reached you.

“But she will find out herself if she starts asking around,” Heeseung says pragmatically, rubbing his eyes defeatedly. He stares at the bowl he made for you that you also didn’t take, which means you haven’t had dinner yet.

“We can’t tell her.” Sunghoon’s tone is firm. 

How do you tell someone that you’ve been blocking every single person that ever liked them from approaching them anyway? How do you explain that you nearly punched some guy for saying that they’re hot? Exactly. You don’t. 

“Whoever this guy is, though, we have to find out who he is before she does.” Heeseung looks at the letter that started this. “Just to talk to him…”

“It doesn’t change the fact that we made Y/N feel awful about herself, though,” says Jay, staring at the ground. 

“Maybe we can explain to her that no one at our school is good enough for her,” Sunghoon tries to reason, but Jay and Heeseung both shake their heads. “They don’t deserve her,” he adds under his breath. 

“I mean, we never told her that,” Jake takes Sunghoon’s side, but the two older boys already decided that it wasn’t a good excuse. “Okay, so what else do you want to do?”

“We need to let her know people do like her.” Heeseung runs a hand through his hair, glancing at each of his friends. “Just… in our own way. No surprises. And find out who the fuck is trying to give her love letters under our radar because he can, respectfully, back the fuck off.”

Jay nods in agreement. Then, noticing Heeseung playing with the bowl that was to be yours, he purses his lips. “She didn’t eat dinner yet, did she?”

Heeseung shakes his head.

“I’ll take it to her.”

“Be nice.”

“I always am, dickhead.”

You lie in bed, staring at your phone. Sunoo, Jungwon, Haewon and Yuna are currently doing their best to cheer you up while berating the guys, and you try to smile through your tears. 

You just can’t understand why they can’t be happy for you. Sure, you understand caution, but the way they spoke — it was more than that. You know for a fact they hated it. They hate the idea of someone liking you. They are probably disgusted by it. So it hurts, obviously it hurts, your heart aching to the point you wish you could make yourself disappear off the face of the earth. 

Are you really that unlikable? Is your only good trait the friendships you made when you were a child?

You quickly hide your phone when you hear a knock on the door, followed by Jay’s voice. He opens the door to your bedroom without waiting for your response. “You’re not that upset if you didn’t lock any of your doors,” he says softly, taking only a few steps inside. 

Your back is turned to him, and you cover your head with your duvet. He doesn’t move — or at least you can’t hear him move — until there’s a small thud. The sound of him placing something on the desk by your door. 

“Heeseung said you didn’t eat yet,” he murmurs, walking toward your bed. He just stands in front of it, facing your back for a good few seconds before crouching and speaking again. “And for the record, it’s not that we don’t care. Or… don’t like people or whatever,” he sighs. 

“But when— I mean, let’s say hypothetically, if there already was someone you had in mind, would you also entertain the idea of liking someone else? Or indulge them because they wrote a love letter to you?”

Jay pauses, taking a moment to compose his thoughts. “We— I— people do like you for you, Y/N. You might not see it but you are the prettiest girl in your year.”

That makes you turn around. You stare up at Jay, into his eyes, a frown still settled on your lips. 

“That’s not true,” you argue, but Jay smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, wiping any remaining tears from your cheeks. “It’s Wonyoung. Everyone says it’s Wonyoung,” you claim, shaking your head. 

“Well, then I guess I disagree with everyone,” Jay whispers softly, his hand resting on your cheek. You absentmindedly lean into his touch, enjoying the warmth of his skin on yours. “I’m really sorry we made you feel like that one love letter was insignificant and like you’re not… likable. ‘Cause that’s honestly the last thing you are, Y/N. There’s so much to like about you, you know? And the most important thing is that you are aware of it.”

Your frown only deepens, but not because you’re upset anymore. You reach out for Jay’s hand on your cheek and squeeze it. He smiles, flipping his hand to intertwine his fingers with yours. 

“Then why doesn’t anyone do stuff like… y’know… the girls that like you guys?” you ask rhetorically, but Jay chuckles regardless, an answer already in his mind. Not the one where he admits to threatening death to anyone who dares to even take a step in your direction or look at you wrong, obviously, but the other one — the real, vulnerable one.

“Because truly liking somebody is scary,” he says matter-of-factly. “We’re going to college soon, and falling in love is a terrifying concept for all of us.”

“But loving somebody should be a good thing,” you claim with a pout. “All the movies and books say that.”

“But that’s just the end of each of those stories.” Jay shakes his head, shifting in his position. Crouching is starting to hurt his knees, but he tries his best to hide his discomfort. 

You notice, though, moving on your bed just the tiniest bit before letting go of Jay’s hand and patting the space next to you. You open your duvet, inviting Jay in. Cuddling is not something you do often, but you can use the comfort of somebody next to you.

Jay’s hesitant at first, his brain going a mile per minute as he comprehends the whole situation. His eyes widen the slightest bit as he stares at you and the open invitation to join you on your bed. 

He does accept it, however, fitting himself on the bed meant for one person only. Though it barely bothers you as you smile and wrap your arms around Jay’s waist as if he were nothing but a plush toy. His heart nearly jumps out of his chest at the action. 

In his head, he has to remind himself that you don’t see him that way. That to you, he’s just a brotherly figure, and this doesn’t mean anything. Not really. And yet his body refuses the fact as his cheeks and ears warm up the more you pull yourself closer. 

Your words only further prove his point. “You don’t think the person who wrote the love letter for me is a creep, right? Because Jake said that and I don’t want to believe him.”

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Jay sighs, carefully wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “It’s hard to tell with letters that people don’t actually sign their name on. Why does this guy want to hide from you if he likes you?”

“Gosh, this is annoying. Why can’t things be simple?” you whine, moving away from Jay. “I want to like someone who also likes me back. That would be nice.” You stare at your ceiling, and the glow in the dark stars your parents stuck on there when you were a baby. 

“Yeah… I wish things could just be simple and easy like that,” Jay agrees with you, only to be interrupted by your sudden movement.

You sit up on the bed, feeling faint, your arms slightly shaking, and you know for a fact the lack of any food is starting to get to you. But you also don’t feel hungry at all.

“The ramen,” Jay says instantly, getting out of bed to give you the bowl with a set of chopsticks and spoon. “I’ll just— I think I should go back to the guys, but… just remember what I said, okay?”

“Yeah.” You smile. The ramen Jay brought is still warm, so you should probably eat it fast. “I’m sorry for—”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Y/N. Just eat, yeah? I’ll see you tomorrow.” Jay places a kiss on the top of your head.

“See you tomorrow,” you mumble, digging into the food. 

If Jay lingers at the door a bit longer than he should just to make sure you are eating, you ignore it. But deep down, you are glad that at least someone cares. 

You honestly don’t know what you’d do if Jay suddenly disappeared from your life. Out of the four, he’s probably the one who spends most of his free time by your side, and you’ve gotten so used to it that if Jay isn’t with you, you often feel like a huge piece of you is missing. 

But then his piercing stare becomes a bit too much, and you giggle. “Okay, get out already,” you say, barely glancing up at him from your food. 

Jay laughs, trying to ease the atmosphere. “Don’t choke on the noodles when I’m gone.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Goodbye!”

permanent tags! @moonpri @addictedtohobi

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[iydiamartinx]

BRIEF ENCOUNTERS

Dick Grayson x Reader x Jason Todd

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto word count: 1.3k synopsis: Gotham’s three hottest celebrities are thrown into a charity photoshoot they didn’t ask for, in nothing but their underwear—and it turns out the camera isn’t the only thing ready to snap. a/n: I had so much fun writing this, I might make a Bruce version. warnings: the boys being too hot to handle.

Gotham’s latest charity campaign was ridiculous. You weren’t sure what was worse: the bright lights heating your skin, the silk robe barely clinging to your body, or the fact that they were here.

Jason Todd and Dick Grayson.

Tied for Gotham’s hottest male celebrity, as if the universe hadn’t already cursed you enough. And you? Crowned Gotham’s hottest woman in People’s Choice. You should’ve felt flattered.

Instead, you were sandwiched into a publicity stunt from hell.

“Who even votes for these things?” you muttered, arms crossed tightly over your chest as you stared at the photoshoot set—minimalist bed, white sheets, a soft faux sunrise glow cast by a massive lighting rig.

Jason leaned against a metal rack, arms folded, a towel slung low on his hips like this was just another Tuesday. “Gotham’s elite, the bored, the horny. Take your pick.”

“And here I thought we were being celebrated for our philanthropic work,” Dick chimed in smoothly as he walked past, already shirtless and smug, adjusting the waistband of his black boxer briefs with all the subtlety of a peacock in mating season. “But no, please. Tell us again how this is beneath you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “It is beneath me. I’m the CEO of my own company. I’ve lectured at Oxford. I don’t pose in my underwear for strangers with cameras.”

“Yet here you are,” Jason said, flashing a grin as he pulled off his towel, revealing briefs identical to Dick’s—only in red. “Guess we all make sacrifices.”

Your eyes narrowed, though truth be told, you were trying real hard not to let your gaze wander. To either of them. They had the bodies of Greek gods, and the worst part? They knew it. Worse still? You knew it too.

And they knew that you knew.

Jason caught the flick of your gaze and raised a brow. “See something you like?”

You scoffed. “Just calculating how many spray tans died to make that happen.”

“Natural glow, sweetheart.”

“Artificial charm,” you shot back, You turned your back to them, jaw set. Professionalism. Focus. Indifference. All things you were pretending to have.

Except when Dick adjusted his waistband again and Jason’s arm flexed just a little too deliberately—you nearly bit your tongue off trying not to react.

“I give it ten minutes before someone threatens violence,” Dick added, smirking between the two of you.

“Too late,” you muttered, striding toward the set. “I’ve been threatening violence since I saw your names on the call sheet.”

Instead, you walked toward the set and dropped your robe with a practiced sort of defiance. Your black lingerie was sleek, minimal, and handpicked by someone who clearly wanted Gotham to combust. Both men went quiet. You smirked. 

“What? Cat got your—oh wait, no. Just your remaining brain cells.”

Jason let out a low whistle, his gaze raking over you with absolutely no shame. “Your stylist really went for the full femme fatale fantasy, huh?”

“Better than the himbo-off you two have going on.”

Dick made a soft choking sound. “Himbo—? Excuse me. I am a sophisticated, multi-faceted man.”

“Who poses in tight briefs for the Children of Gotham Foundation calendar,” you shot back. “Truly noble work.”

He grinned—shameless, unbothered—but you didn’t miss it. The way his gaze flicked lower, lingered, then snapped back up like he hadn’t just imagined something entirely uncharitable. He was only slightly subtler than Jason, and that was saying something.

The photographer, some buzzed-out creative from Metropolis with too much enthusiasm and not enough fear, clapped his hands. “Alright, lovers—get cozy! I want tension, heat, passion! Make the people wonder what happens when the lights go off.”

“Oh, they’ll wonder,” Jason murmured. “They’ll also wonder how I survived being kicked in the ribs.”

Instead, you settled into the bed—Jason on your right, Dick on your left, both shirtless, smug, and entirely too close. The mattress dipped beneath your weight. The bed was warm, the lights were blinding, and the proximity was maddening.

“Closer,” the photographer insisted.

Jason leaned in until his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “Try not to melt.”

“Try not to pass out from your own cologne,” you whispered back, ignoring the slight hitch in your breath.

“Touch each other more,” the photographer urged. “Intimate, not stiff.”

“Stiff’s the wrong word,” Jason murmured under his breath.

You elbowed him sharply. “Try finishing that sentence and see what happens.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he muttered, but his hand slid behind your back, fingertips brushing skin like it was nothing.

Dick leaned in closer, lazy arm draping behind your shoulders. He smelled like clean skin and expensive cologne, and his voice was far too close when he said, “Is it bad I’m actually enjoying this?”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. “If your hand moves even an inch lower, I’m breaking your wrist.”

“Duly noted,” he murmured, and you noticed he didn’t move. 

Jason, meanwhile, had his other hand settled lazily against your thigh. “Tell me again how you hate being around us. You’re practically glowing.”

“It’s the highlighter,” you said sweetly. “Not your proximity.”

Click. Flash. Shutter.

The photographer cheered. “Perfect. Let’s try the lap shot next. Y/N on Jason’s lap, Dick behind her.”

You blinked. “This is starting to feel suspiciously like a setup.”

Jason patted his thigh. “Come on, princess. I don’t bite. Unless that’s what you’re into.”

You shot him a flat look but climbed into place with a huff, settling across his lap. His hands found your hips instantly—confident, steady, like he’d done it a hundred times—and you hated how solid it felt. How easy. How natural.

You refused to acknowledge the goosebumps rising on your skin.

Dick moved in behind you, positioning himself with an infuriating kind of ease. His breath brushed your neck, and you felt it all the way down your spine.

“You smell good,” he said quietly, right by your ear.

“Get closer and I’ll change that.” You threaten.

Another shutter flash.

Jason’s voice was low by your ear. “You know, for someone who claims to hate us, you’re sitting awfully pretty between our legs.”

You turned your head just enough to smile at the camera. “Just fantasizing about strangling you with this overpriced bra.”

Dick chuckled softly behind you. “Careful. That’s starting to sound like flirting.”

“It’s not,” you lied—too quickly, too easily.

But the shoot kept going.

The poses got bolder—more contact, more heat, more places to put your hands where they shouldn’t feel that good. Jason’s palm resting just under your ribs. Dick’s fingers lightly grazing your collarbone. Their bodies bracketed against yours like they belonged there.

The lines between staged and real blurred with every click of the shutter. Flash after flash. Touch after touch. And somewhere in the middle of it all, it stopped feeling like acting.

When the final shot was taken and the camera was lowered, you stood too fast—heart hammering, skin flushed, throat dry.

You cleared it. “We done here?”

The photographer nodded.

The photographer, looking a little dazed himself, gave a nod.

You didn’t wait. You turned to go, grabbing your robe—only to feel fingers close gently around your wrist. Not tight. Just enough to stop you.

Jason.

You glanced back, expression guarded. “What?”

“You going to admit it?”

Your brow arched. “Admit what?”

“That you didn’t hate all of that.”

You hesitated. Just a beat. Then your gaze flicked to Dick—still shirtless, arms folded, looking entirely too pleased with himself. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

You turned back to Jason, let your lips curl slowly into a smirk. “No,” you said. “But I’m looking forward to the rematch next year.”

You slipped out of his hold and walked off, robe slung over one shoulder, leaving them in your wake.

Neither of them moved for a long moment.

Jason finally exhaled. “She’s going to be the death of us.”

Dick grinned, eyes still on the spot where you’d been. “What a way to go. At least we’ll die hot.”

[formulaonecrumbs]

OKAY LAST ONE (probably not actually) reader getting off on oscs thigh because after surgery she’s technically on a sex ban

-🧸

takin’ what you need

Oscar Piastri x PCOS!reader

summary: reader craves closeness and release after surgery and finds comfort with oscar.

warnings: soft smut, thigh riding, post-surgery recovery

A/N: READ: i’m publishing (or trying to) a bunch of requests ive gotten but there IS a lot, so i’m sorry if i don’t get to urs in time. i’m not going in order but by what i feel i can write the most for or come up with the most for!!! i will get ur request out tho, i promise i’m not ignoring any of them my loves. i saw this req and it was the first i had to write cuz thigh riding might be one of my fav smutty things to read. low-key this turned ME on so i hope it has the same affect for u 😚 I LOVE U ENJOY, SWEET BABY!!! ❤️

⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘

you weren’t supposed to be doing anything. doctor’s orders — strict ones.

no sex. no heavy lifting. no stressing your body. no anything, really.

but the thing was — your body didn’t understand patience the way your brain did. it ached for oscar. ached for the way he made you feel safe, warm, whole.

so now you were here, crawling quietly into his lap while he sat up against the headboard, scrolling through his phone, glasses slipping down his nose.

he smiled when he saw you, tired but so full of love.

“hi,” he said, voice soft from sleep. “what’s all this?”

you didn’t answer at first, just tucked yourself into him, curling up, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your thighs trembled slightly, the way your hands clutched a little too tightly at his shirt.

he noticed. of course he noticed. he set his phone aside immediately, his full focus turning to you.

his hands found your waist, slow and careful. “what’s wrong, baby?”

you shook your head, biting your lip, embarrassed. it was stupid. selfish. but you just missed him so much. you missed feeling something that wasn’t pain or weakness or nausea. you missed being close.

“can i just…” you mumbled, eyes dropping, heart pounding. “can i sit?”

he tilted his head, confused, but nodded immediately. “course you can. anything you want.”

you swung one leg over his lap, straddling him, and the second you settled your full weight onto his thigh, you almost whimpered. the pressure. the heat. it was exactly what you’d been craving, even if you hadn’t known it until now.

oscar’s hands tightened reflexively at your hips, a soft grunt escaping him when you moved, your core pressing against the firm line of his thigh.

he stilled.

you stilled.

the air between you shifted, thickened.

his thumb rubbed slow circles into your hipbone.

“baby,” he murmured, so, so gently. “you sure?”

your face burned. you pressed your forehead into the crook of his neck, hiding. “please,” you whispered, voice so small it barely made a sound.

oscar kissed your temple, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head like you were something precious.

“okay,” he whispered back. “i’ve got you.”

he didn’t move — didn’t force you — just let you set your own pace.

you rocked forward carefully, experimentally, and the friction against your clit made your whole body shudder.

a broken noise slipped from your lips, muffled against his throat.

he pulled you closer. “that’s it, angel,” he breathed. “take what you need.”

you moved again, grinding down onto his thigh, letting the soft cotton of his boxers and the strength of his muscles do all the work. he flexed under you, giving you more to push against, helping without overwhelming.

your hands twisted in his shirt, nails scraping lightly across his chest, and oscar only held you tighter, guiding your hips with slow, steady pressure.

you could feel the tears pricking at your eyes.

the heat building in your stomach.

the overwhelming tenderness of it all — being allowed to fall apart in his arms without shame.

“you’re so good for me,” he murmured, peppering kisses across your hairline. “so pretty. my sweet girl.”

you whimpered, grinding harder, chasing the rush, the release you’d needed for days.

your thighs quivered around him, muscles clenching, breath coming in broken gasps. oscar whispered encouragements the whole time, anchoring you, loving you through it.

and when you came, it hit you like a wave — overwhelming and blinding and so, so relieving. you sobbed against him, body going slack, heart hammering painfully against your ribs.

oscar just gathered you closer, pressing kiss after kiss to your forehead, cheeks, eyelids.

“i’m so proud of you, baby,” he whispered. “you’re okay. you’re okay. i’ve got you.”

you stayed like that for a long time afterward ��� tangled up in each other, safe and warm and whole.

he pulled the blankets over both of you, humming softly under his breath, stroking your back until you fell asleep against him.

and even then — even when your breathing evened out and your body relaxed — oscar stayed awake, keeping watch over you, loving you quietly like it was the only thing that ever mattered.

THE END :>

[zorange13]

—he’s such a loser, wtf? pjs

pairing. geek! park jay x afab poc popular! reader

content. acquaintances to lovers, jay is lowkey a loser but not, ft. popular athletes! hyung line, jay’s an asshole like fr, allusions to The Duff by Kody Keplinger (little me loved that book, i’ve read it twice. i still love it idc. don’t talk to me abt the movie tho…sigh), photographer geek! jay, journalism major! psych minor! reader, arson jokes, playfully questioning friend’s sexuality, making out

word count: 30,974 (25,591 in this part) ao3 ver.

synopsis: jay’s been hiding behind his cool, distant demeanor, never letting anyone get too close. when he crosses paths with you, a popular cheerleader, your unlikely connection sparks a series of misunderstandings, awkward encounters, and him trying—and failing—to navigate feelings he’s not used to confronting. With a secret mission to keep his distance while helping her, jay finds himself caught between his own stubbornness and the surprising depth of his feelings.

after well into writing this i realized that a lot of jay’s behaviors display signs of autism spectrum disorder. this was not intentional but if this does offend or put anyone off in any way PLEASE let me know!! (symptoms/signs such as: must follow certain routines, seeming blunt or rude without intention, taking things literally—as in—does not understand figures of speech or sarcasm, prefers to be alone, hyperfixations,) again, not intentional but i didn’t want to put this out without making it clear that i’m not ignorant to what i’m producing. i literally didn’t put this together until my close friend (who is autistic) told me that these were signs. she said this did not offend her, but obviously she doesn't speak for all! this isn't to offend anyone, if this does then please tell me. my dm's are always open for any reason!

Park Jay spent copious amounts of time reading, writing, and taking photos of his poor, unsuspecting classmates. 

In a nutshell, Jay was simple. He woke up at 9:00, brushed his teeth, washed his face—no need for a morning shower; he always did that the night before. Then came 9:19, the daily wardrobe deliberation: black t-shirt or…black t-shirt. Oversized black jeans or oversized black sweatpants. Spray his favorite cologne at 9:28. 

Eat exactly one cup of Raisin Bran and solve the day’s Wordle. Grab his keys at 9:50. Trudge out of the house and into his car by 9:51.

It was like rinse and repeat, to which none of this necessarily bothered him. Jay enjoyed routine, he loved the idea that he had full control over what had to be done. But a part of him longed for something different. For someone or something to disrespect the regimen that he’s so carefully mapped out. 

—

He stood along his university’s track, camera in hand as he inspected the soccer field, trying to get the cheerleaders and other athletes into the frame. 

His face is shoved tightly into the camera as he zooms in, eyes narrowing in concentration. The lens clicked repeatedly as he fell into the quiet rhythm of it. Letting himself fall into yet another routine of clicking, adjusting, clicking, adjusting. 

It wasn’t even about the subjects, he honestly couldn't care any less about sports or whatever they were doing, just lining up for that perfect shot was more than enough for him to feel that high, that cathartic feeling of expression. He hated the arrogance that came with athletes, but a great artist puts themselves in uncomfortable positions to really show how great they are; wouldn’t you agree?

He takes a couple more shots before his focus drifts back to his camera lens as the team disperses. All of which they lift their shirts to wipe off the sweat that’s gotten in their eyes. Despite him not caring about any of them, he watched as his three idiot friends walked over to him. Laughing, still trying to maintain some sort of positivity after Coach Jeon screamed at them for the last hour and a half.

Sunghoon was the first to approach, his once very serious glare being replaced by a smirk as he relished in the freedom from Coach’s scrutiny. His shirt clung to his chiseled chest from sweat as a small towel hung over his shoulder, but despite these things that would very badly overstimulate someone like Jay, Hoon looked cool as a cucumber. “You still hiding behind that camera?” Sunghoon teased, wiping his forehead with the aforementioned towel. “Don’t you get bored?”

Jay didn’t even look up from his camera as he adjusted the exposure, “Nah, I’m hoping one day you idiots fall and I’ll have the documentation.” He muttered with little expression. “Besides, we can’t have amateurs taking flicks for the yearbook, right?”

Jake and Heeseung walked up next, still catching their breath from the intense scrimmage. Jake flashed Jay a smile, “You really gonna stand there while we’re slaving out here?”

Jay gave a shrug, the corners of his lips quirked up into something of a smile, imperceptibly so. “I’m working hard too, if you count not getting hit in the face with balls as work.”

Heeseung leaned back next to him, the heat radiating off of his body to Jay’s to which he grimaced. “Yeah I know, I took two to the chin last week.”

Before Jay could respond as the others—including him—laughed, a voice interrupted them.

“Are you really going to let these guys gang up on you like that?”

You stood right there as your voice cut through the banter with unexpected clarity. It was bright, strong, and that’s what made the four boys look at you. Standing a few feet away from them in your perky cheer uniform, that could cling to you the only way it knew how after a heavy practice. Sweat glistened from your forehead but your curly hair—that was raised in a pineapple updo, masked it, blending in so that it didn’t look too frizzy and shrink up. But even when you expected to look a mess, you didn’t. You commanded attention, not forcefully—it just happened naturally.

Jay’s gaze flicked up, the grip on his camera loosening, now his attention no longer on the athletes. He looked at you briefly, his stomach doing something way too familiar at this point whenever you were around.  

The boys froze up for a second, but Sunghoon’s posture straightened up at the sight of this girl. “Hey Captain,” he smiled, a glint of amusement in his eyes. 

You curtly bowed your head to greet them, but before you could speak further, Jake interjected, “We just got chewed up by our coach for 90 minutes straight, can we breathe?” 

You laughed, “Yet you still found time to be annoying, very impressive, Jakey, very impressive.”

Jay’s ears perked up at the sound of your laugh, again the feeling in his heart and stomach a reminder of it. He held his camera close to his chest, almost protectively as he avoided looking at you; he had to remember who you were.

You are the captain of their university’s cheer team and in very close proximity to his friends. They ran in the same circle and somehow developed a kinship with you, alongside the other girls and guys on the cheer team during their years at the uni. It seemed to make sense for every one of them but Jay. You bantered with Sunghoon like you were siblings, always kept having to reject Jake, and even managed to coax a few words out of Heeseung every now and again who always seemed to be having some sort of girl problems. It was easy for you to be around them—just as much as it was for Jay; the pseudo-F4 had been friends since they were little kids.

However, the times you would try to interact with Jay, he would keep his responses very minimal. A smile, a curt nod, a wave whenever you see each other. Jay, from your interpretation, seemed very aloof and you didn’t take it personally. It made sense that his only three friends would be people that he was fully comfortable around. 

Seeing as his friends doubled as athletes and socialites, Jay always felt like—for lack of a better word—a loser.

There was this book that he read (almost regretfully) in his freshman year of high school—The Duff. He knew that to be the ‘Designated Ugly Fat Friend’ he had to fully identify with it, though, he didn’t quite feel much of a relation to Bianca. She was self-deprecating, bitter, anxious, and impulsive. 

Jay had some sort of confidence, he was slightly bitter, only mildly anxious, but was very calculated and attentive. He knew he wasn’t fat, damn sure knew he wasn’t ugly, but sure, he was the designated friend. 

The friend that was the designated driver when Jake would be blacked out drunk at parties, all because Jay refused to compromise his liver and kidneys. The friend for whenever Heeseung had girl problems, he was the one to go to. The friend that Sunghoon always called to play Valorant because he knew that Jay was never that busy.

Jay was reliable, trustworthy, and in some ways he felt like he owed his friends. They were the ones that were there for him in the same way. The ones that saved him from that big, bad bully in kindergarten and they’ve been thick as thieves ever since. Not to be confused, he knew that his friends loved him equally. But Jay never had to confide in them because he never needed anything. Nothing exciting ever happened in his life for him to report back to his friends. 

He enjoyed his space, being an only child, he spent most of his childhood playing alone. So when he found his friends—or better yet—when they found him, he never changed who he was or what his character consisted of. Jay’s social battery ran out very quickly; so more often than not he would find himself retreating to his apartment and putting his phone on ‘do not disturb.’

Jay liked the quiet moments in his life. The stillness of his apartment, the steady click of his camera, the hyperfixation on really niche topics, the way he could just fade into the background while observing the world through his lens—literally and figuratively. It gave him control—a way to participate in life without being directly in the spotlight.

But you had this uncanny ability to mess with that quiet.

It wasn’t intentional, of course. You didn’t burst into his life demanding attention or energy. You just...existed in a way that made it impossible for Jay to ignore you. Your laugh could cut through the fog of his thoughts, your voice had this cadence that somehow settled and unnerved him at the same time.

He hated that you made him feel exposed, like you could see through the layers of detachment he’d spent years perfecting. The way you tried to pull him into conversations when you clearly had no obligation to, or the times you’d catch him off guard with a teasing comment—those moments lingered, as much as he tried to brush them off.

And it wasn’t that he didn’t like you. That wasn’t the problem at all. If anything, it was the opposite. You were one of those rare people who managed to make everyone around you feel seen without even trying. It was easy to see why Sunghoon treated you like a sibling or why Jake always tried (and failed) to flirt with you.

But Jay? He didn’t know how to categorize what he felt. It wasn’t as simple as admiration or attraction. It was more complicated, more unsettling. You were an unpredictable variable in his otherwise orderly life, and Jay had no idea what to do with that.

So, he kept his distance, retreating to the safety of his camera and the comfort of his predictable friendships. It was easier that way.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

“Jay,” You called out, breaking him from his introspection, your tone teasing but not unkind. “You’re really gonna let these guys clown on you? Thought you had more fight in you.”

Jay looked up, the weight of your attention catching him off guard. He felt his grip on the camera tighten instinctively, as if it could shield him from whatever chaos you were about to unleash.

“Not much to fight about,” he replied, his voice steady but soft. “They’re just proving my point.”

“Which is?” You asked, tilting your head slightly, curiosity sincere.

“That I’m the only one here doing something useful.” His lips quirked up in a faint smirk, and Jake groaned dramatically in response.

“Useful?” Jake cut in, shaking his head. “Bro, taking pictures of me isn’t exactly saving lives.”

“Not everything’s about you, Jake,” Sunghoon quipped, earning a laugh from the rest.

“Right, right,” Jake said, rolling his eyes. “Guess Jay’s just here documenting Sunghoon’s tragic fall from grace.”

“Tragic?” Sunghoon shot back, mock-offended. “Please, I’m the star of his portfolio.”

“More like the blooper reel,” Jay muttered, earning a burst of laughter from those around him.

“Wait, why are you funny?” You admitted, your eyes crinkling at the corners as you covered your mouth to conceal your laughter. “Not you having jokes.”

He felt his face heat up at your attention but shrugged it off, glancing back down at his camera as if the settings had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Only when the material’s this easy,” he said, keeping his tone light.

“You’re full of surprises,” you said, and there was something in your voice—something playful but warm—that made Jay glance up again. He caught your eyes as he adjusted the silver-lined frames that adorned his face, the motion both habitual and telling. Your gaze lingered a moment longer than he expected, your expression unreadable but calm. Jay’s fingers froze briefly against the bridge of his glasses before he dropped his hand, clearing his throat softly.

“You wear those because you actually need them,” you asked, your tone light but genuinely curious, “or is it, like, a whole vibe thing?”

Jay blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Uh…both, I guess?” he replied, a touch of hesitation in his voice. He didn’t know why he said that, his vision was absolutely terrible. 

“Cool,” you said simply, your lips curling into a small smile. “They suit you.”

He opened his mouth to respond but quickly decided against it, unsure of what to say to that. His heart did an embarrassing little leap at the compliment, though he managed to keep his expression neutral.

“Didn’t think you’d notice,” he finally said, his voice quieter now, almost like he was speaking more to himself than to you.

You raised a brow, leaning slightly forward as if to catch his words. “What, you think I’m not observant?”

“No, just…” He hesitated, his gaze dropping to his camera again. “Didn’t think it’d matter.”

You studied him for a beat, your smile softening. “Well, it does.”

And just like that, you straightened back up, your attention shifting seamlessly to the others, leaving Jay with the sudden and disarming realization that you were way more perceptive than he gave you credit for.

—

Jay walked into one of the university cafes at his usual time of 12PM right after his 10:30 experimental filmmaking class. As soon as he opened the door, the scent of coffee permeated his senses. Immediately waking him up from the haze that loomed over him from the 90 minutes of hearing information he already knew. Funnily enough, he hated coffee and refused to drink it because he didn’t want to trigger possible acid reflux or gastro-esophageal diseases.

He plopped down at one of the booths as he adjusted himself into the cushion of the seat. He then slid on his earbuds, the clinking of spoons and white noise fading to black. He swiftly pulled out his laptop to edit the photos that he snapped two days ago on the track. Jay’s fingers hovered over the trackpad as he scrolled through the photos. The soccer and cheerleading practices had been a goldmine for candids—athletes mid-sprint, beads of sweat dripping down their bodies and catching the sunlight, and the faint blur of the spectators in the background.

He loved capturing the things that felt alive even in the stillness. 

As he adjusted the vibrancy on a particularly striking shot, Jay felt a faint presence nearby. Looking up, only to see the barista delivering a caramel latte to a nearby table. Shaking away his paranoia, he turned back to his work. The rhythm of editing was something easy for him to fall into, but for the first time that day, he felt the tension in his shoulders ease. 

Through his peripheral vision, he saw a familiar figure open the door and head to the queue to wait to order. You.

As soon as his eyes laid on your figure, they retreated right back to his laptop; also slouching into the booth so you wouldn’t notice him. Again, it wasn’t that he didn’t like you. Jay just hated discomfort and somehow being around a girl like you, made him squirm and he wasn’t sure if it was a good thing. If the things he felt were anything other than happy, sad, angry, nervous, or scared then he wasn’t a fan. Despite how much the latter part of him yearned for excitement and to really feel, Jay just wanted to skirt by in life. 

It was a weird mixture of wanting to be wanted, not having interest because he was afraid of rejection whether socially, or romantically even. He hated the way these insecure, almost unnerving things popped into his head when you were around.

He watched you walk in his general direction with a cold brew in hand and his heart skipped a little, he—again—further ducked into his seat and scooted more toward the window on his right side. But you sat at a nearby table in front of him which made him let out a quiet sigh of relief. How you didn’t notice him let him know that you didn’t have that irrational fear of seeing people you know in public (like him), or just had no sort of spatial awareness. 

But then after a while, he started to hear the faint hum of your voice through his headphones. Which overstimulated him beyond belief. Like, hearing old, unreleased Frank Ocean on top of your voice made his head hurt and he didn’t know what to do about it. He wasn’t gonna tell you to shut the fuck up, because that would be mean. 

Jay gets that he’s in a public setting but a part of him blames himself for not getting noise-cancelling headphones, his old ones from high school were not cutting it anymore. 

Just the fact that he is so hyper-aware of your presence was the problem. The fact that you sat there sipping, almost aggressively (how tired were you?), on your coffee as you scrolled through some app. Smiling haphazardly at something you might’ve found funny or stupid. Then he sees that smile settle into dullness as you swipe across it to put the phone to your ear. “Hey,” 

Your voice was soft, almost cutting through Jay’s mind like a knife. His fingers froze mid-edit on the same photo he was editing when you sat down—twenty minutes ago, so longer than usual. 

He glanced up briefly, not wanting to seem obvious, but also unable to help himself. He paused his music as he watched you lean further into the table, absentmindedly stirring your cold brew. He saw the condensation gather around the plastic cup and leave a ring around the base of it. Your expression was almost unreadable as he wondered who you were speaking to. 

Jay immediately regretted the thought. Why the fuck would he care who you were speaking to? It wasn’t his business and it wasn’t like you were aware of his inner turmoil. 

“Yeah, I know,” you said as you sighed into the phone. “Mom, I’m trying. But this class is absolutely impossible! It’s like he says one thing, but he wants another thing. I don’t even know this is stupid.”

Jay blinked, trying to process what you said as his chest tightened for reasons he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Your tone was light, but there was a frustration beneath it as his fingers hovered over the trackpad, but he wasn’t editing anymore. Instead, he was hyper-focused on the way your voice wavered slightly as you vented, the way your hand stopped stirring the now watered down cold brew and was now waving around as you aired out your troubles.

“Yes, I’m asking for help, mom, it’s literally so embarrassing, I got a 40 on my last test.” you continued, your tone softening, though the exasperation lingered. “But it’s not like anyone’s lining up to explain set theory to me, you know?”

Jay’s lips twitched into a faint, involuntary smile. Your words were drenched in sarcasm, but there was something oddly endearing about the way you expressed yourself. Still, he shook his head to force his attention back to his laptop. ‘Just play your music and stop eavesdropping,’ he told himself.

But then again, how could he not? You were just sitting a few feet away from him and again, his headphones were not helping right now. So he quickly pulled out his phone to open his reminder app to buy some noise-cancelling headphones by the end of the week.

“Okay, okay,” you said, never sounding so deflated. “I’ll figure it o—” You stopped talking, being cut off by your mom who was lecturing you it seemed. “I know mom, your money won’t go to waste. Plus if I fail, I’ll ju–” Your voice dropped to a lower, more resigned tone. “No, I didn’t just say the F word,” you smiled solemnly. 

“I have a class in 10 minutes, ma. I’ll call you later, okay? I love you.” You said, obviously lying just to stop the barrage of your mother’s words from ruining your day and stressing you out further. Then you go back to your phone as you bounce your leg up and down, trying some way to push the stress somewhere else. 

While you’re busy doing this, Jay quickly takes one last glance at you. It’s not that he wants to draw attention, but there’s something about your restlessness, the frustration in your voice, that sticks with him. He could’ve just let it be, but he’d already clicked send. 

—

Later on that day, you were seated at one of the tables in the corner in one of the school libraries. Your mind spinning with endless equations and concepts that you understood, but somehow, nothing ever stuck. Turning up the volume on your noise canceling headphones to hopefully drown out the damning thoughts, you didn’t realize how much time had passed until your phone lit up on the table, breaking your focus. 

It was a message from the cheer group chat. Wasn’t important, ignore. 

But you decided to scroll through your old notifications, just to see what you missed. However, your eyes caught one from three hours ago to your school email:

From: print@decelis.edu at 12:33 PM

To: you

Your print job is ready for pickup at station 3.

You blinked at the message, a little confused. You hadn’t sent anything to print recently or at all, in your years at the school. All of your work was digital. But your curiosity tugged at you, pushing you to check anyway. You get up from your chair, leaving your laptop and tablet there for the taking, these rich kids don’t steal anyways, you thought.

Nonetheless, were you missing something? You pondered what you could’ve possibly sent to print, I mean, your Philosophy and Ethics essay was to be turned in digitally, as was most of the assignments in the school. I mean what loser would even handwrite notes these days?

When you arrived at station 3, there was a semi-thick stack of papers waiting for you. You leaned forward slightly as you grabbed the stapled bundle from the tray. As you flipped over the page with your name on it, you saw it was labeled in a familiar way—finite math. 

But these were different from those stupid lecture slides…these were actually good. Detailed, thorough, and almost too clean, each concept broken down in ways that felt more digestible than your professor’s ramblings could ever be. 

Lists of formulas, steps on how to do problems, keywords, examples, things to remember.

Oh, this loser had time. 

You skimmed through them, and the more you read, the more you couldn’t help but feel a mix of admiration and confusion. Who had gone through the trouble of printing these out for you? Why?

And who—wait, the only person who knew about your math debacle was your mom. You don’t quite remember discussing this matter with anyone else but her because it was simply too embarrassing to admit to anyone that you were in danger of failing anything. 

As you felt this pit in your stomach, you glanced around the library. Looking for any sign of who might have been listening but then again, you got here an hour ago. You last opened your mouth about this in the cafe and the email was from…you checked your phone again, noting the timestamp of 12:33 PM.

Around the time you were in the cafe. 

No one was even looking at you in the library, everyone that was there resided at their little tables or cubicles with friends; trying to conceal hard laughs even though this was a quiet zone. 

You made the trek back to your table. But as you did, your heart thumped a little harder in your chest, unsure of what to make of it. This was fucking weird. 

Granted, the notes didn’t feel personal. It was like someone just meticulously planned it out just so they wouldn’t be confused. Fortunately, that was just enough for you to be glad. Anything would help at this point. 

As you sat back down at your table, you further inspected the booklet for anything that might’ve been an indicator of…anything. You didn’t recognize the handwriting, no you knew wrote like this. The letters fit perfectly within the lines, almost robotic. The symbols being done perfectly as well, they must’ve tried a few times to get that right, so meticulous.

It was freaky. 

But there was nothing to do at this point but use them. I mean someone, whether it be a stalker, eavesdropper, divine entity, who knows, gave them to you for a reason. 

With that being said, you pulled out your tablet with your GoodNotes and got to studying.

You passed your next test with a 83.

—

The following weekend, you walked around the university football field as there was a kickback that you were invited to. 

To this day, you don’t know why the Dean even put this much trust in your class to not drink on campus. The whole setup was a goldmine for rule-breaking: dim lighting, loud ass music (your heart ached for the residents), and ever-so-convenient lack of supervision. But really there was no point, y’all were adults and well beyond or just now of drinking age.

The field was alive with activity—groups of people were already laughing, life or death games of beer pong, even a few ambitious souls were already drunk. Nonetheless, the pumpkin spice candles were doing their best to smother the scent of alcohol.

At this moment, the friends you came here with were only mildly plastered and dealing with the varying drunk personalities on top of the loud music was entirely too overwhelming for your liking. You didn’t feel comfortable getting drunk at a college party and at most you’d get lightly buzzed. Tonight, you just weren’t in the mood for drinking but a little fun wouldn’t hurt. 

The field was lit with warm orange and yellow lanterns as they were strung through and across trees, tables, and posts. Creating a cozy glow against the darkened sky, it looked like half the campus was there and fortunately, the cool weather permitted those to ease into a cute little hoodie and jeans, sweats, just comfy clothing in general.

As you scanned the premises, your eyes caught a lean figure at the edge of the bleachers toward the upper part of the field. Some were scattered around that area to socialize as it was a lot quieter, just to enjoy the music but not be crushed by the drunk and humongous athletes.

Nonetheless, you weren’t shy and knew that talking to said lean figure was a gamble but fuck it. 

You squeezed through the tight bubble of inebriated adults and found yourself free and in the small, but secluded area. 

Jay, however, had his back turned to the rest of the crowd as he swiped through his phone. As he bided his time in the least stimulating section of the field, he realized that he really could’ve been doing this at home. His heart was fluttering just thinking about it now. He could’ve been watching his shows and reading that book that’s currently annotated to death on his sofa. His plush, soft, gorgeous sofa. But no, he sat on the ice-cold, steel bleachers and his ass was numbing at the lack of warmth.

His friends dragged him out to this function so that he can hopefully feel motivated to talk to people and “get laid.”

Which just sounds idiotic because what did that even mean? Get laid? Lay where? He understood the implication, of course, but the phrasing always bothered him. It was crude. Unnecessary. And more than that—it simply didn’t apply to him. Jay wasn’t interested in the shallow pursuit of meaningless hookups. Many have tried, all have failed.

Regardless of what, he knew what they really brought him for. Jay didn’t drink, if it wasn’t water or apple juice he was not for it. So of course, having him as a designated driver was the safest thing for all of them to get home. He didn’t pull off until everyone had their seatbelts fastened and he always did just the speed limit. 

Now that he was stuck, idling looking through his phone trying to find some sort of dopamine hit from a funny video. But then he feels a hand rest on his bicep to capture his attention; to which he was grateful, taps on the shoulder feel funny. 

Then, he turned to see a little ole you, water bottle and curly hair in tow—sitting just above your collarbone. “Hey, loner,”

Jay stared at her for a beat as he shifted his phone to his other hand, then his back pocket. “Hi.”

You smiled, tilting your head. “Damn, just a ‘hi?’” 

He blinked. “You greeted me, I acknowledged it.”

Clearly amused, you shook your head with a laugh before sitting next to him on the bleachers. Your body heat radiating off of you and onto him, which despite his better judgment he needed a lot more than he would tell you. “What are you even doing out here? I didn’t think this was your scene.”

He sipped the water bottle that he had been sipping since he sat down. At this point it was pretty empty, only one good sip left. “It’s not, my friends used me. DD.”

You nodded knowingly, “Mmm…sounds like them.”

Jay hummed in agreement, rolling the near-empty water bottle between his hands. He could hear the bass of whatever song was playing pounding from the speakers across the field, the occasional drunken cheer rising above it. The whole scene felt like something he was watching from the outside, never quite a part of.

You, however, leaned back, stretching your legs out in front of you like you had no problem settling in. “You know that you could’ve said no.”

He scoffed lightly. “Right. Because that would’ve stopped them.”

“True,” you admitted with a grin. “They can be kinda relentless.”

Jay didn’t respond, but something about the way you said kinda made him side-eye you. Like you didn’t mind the persistence. Like you even liked it. Liked that your friends were all over the place, you thrive on it. 

You nudged his knee with yours. “How are classes?”

He sighed. “Fine.”

“How are the friends?”

“Fine.”

You squinted at him. “Are you okay?”

Jay narrowed his eyes. “Are you okay?”

At that, you burst out laughing, throwing your head back. “Oh my God,” you gasped between giggles, shaking your head. “Talking to you is so hard.”

Jay just watched you, his expression unreadable. He wasn’t sure why people kept saying that. He answered every question, didn’t he? It wasn’t his fault the questions weren’t interesting. You exhaled, shaking your head with a lingering smile before standing up. “Alright, well, have fun, Jay. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Jay nodded once, but you were already walking off, disappearing back into the thick of the crowd.

He stared after you for a second longer than he meant to, then looked down to see the water bottle you left. Completely unopened and sealed left in the space that was between you. He sighed, cracking it open with a small click before downing his first sip.

—

The professor’s voice drifts in and out of focus as you stare at the half-filled page of notes on your laptop. Your mind keeps wandering back to the weekend, to Jay. You’re not sure what it was about the brief conversation you had with him—well, more like the awkward attempt at a conversation—but you can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to him than he lets on.

He’s so…different. Not in a bad way, just in a way you can’t quite put your finger on. And something about the way he responds, or rather, doesn’t respond, to the usual social cues keeps you intrigued. There’s a part of you that wonders if it’s your own curiosity that’s pushing you to know more, but then you think back to how he seemed almost...relieved when you left. Maybe you’re overthinking it, maybe not.

Jay was an enigma, something that you needed to get a grip on to understand. Everything about him was meticulous, not one detail too big, nor one too small. But a part of him almost seemed unnerving. 

He was so conscious of everything that he did. 

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when the professor announces the new assignment, his voice cutting through the murmur of students’ whispers.

“Write about someone you’re in proximity to but know absolutely nothing about,” he says, making eye contact with a few of the students in the back. “Find the story in someone you haven’t taken the time to understand yet. Write about what’s compelling, what’s mysterious—even if you know nothing about their life.”

A pause. Then, a slow smile creeps onto your face.

This is it.

You almost laugh out loud at the irony. You’ve been trying to figure Jay out for the past forever it seemed like, and now, here’s your chance to put it all to paper. It feels almost too perfect. Divine intervention, maybe? You tap the pen against your notebook, already imagining how you’d approach it. The awkwardness of your previous exchange, the layers to his personality you’ve yet to peel back. He’s not easy to read, but that’s exactly what makes him fascinating.

You’ll have to get closer, though. You don’t even know where to start with someone like him. Still, the challenge excites you. It’s almost like this assignment was meant to be. Jay, the one person who’s always on the edge of your thoughts.

You scampered out of class, in a way better mood than you were when you were in there. This had to be a dream, there’s no way that the universe just put this whole thing on a silver platter for you. Like this had to be a joke. 

Wandering out of the liberal arts building, you texted the group chat that you had with Sunghoon, Jake, Jay, and Heeseung. You need to get a hold of at least one of them now. 

you: wya?

heeseung <3 : dining hall, we just got here tho

jake <3: slide

you: bet

 omw rn

—

“Please,”

“I said no.” 

“Please, I swear I won’t be annoying. Like I promise—”

“You’re doing that right now.”

Of course begging this man—or any man—at 10 in the morning wasn’t on your vision board for the semester. But as you sat in this semi-densely packed dining hall, with three other eyes on you, you knew you had to pull this off so you didn’t look stupid. And you hated looking stupid.

“C’mon, Jay.” Heeseung said, grinning as he leaned back into his chair, enjoying the spectacle. 

Jay, however, was unimpressed. He barely looked up from his bowl, methodically stirring the remnants of his cereal. “It’s weird,” he muttered.

You groaned, resisting the urge to dramatically collapse onto the table. “It’s not weird! It’s a journalism assignment. Please? I need this for my GPA, this would really help me as long as it’s something good.”

He chewed firmly on his raisin bran, exactly one cup as always. “Your grade point average has nothing to do with me and isn’t my responsibility.” 

Jake let out a low whistle. “Ouch.”

You shot him a glare before turning back to Jay, determined not to let this go. “Okay, sure, technically it’s not your responsibility, but think of it as...a good deed. A community service moment.”

Jay shook his head, “You can literally pick anyone else, I cannot be that interesting.”

You smiled as you gestured to him, “That’s exactly what makes you interesting. Just think about it, the assignment is to write about someone I’m close to but know nothing about. I can tell you a whole thing about these fuckers—” You point to the other boys that surrounded you and him; your comment only elicited ‘boo’s’ and balled up napkins being thrown at your head; as expected. “But Jay, I’ve had your phone number, seen you at least 8 times a week for three years, we are in a group chat together. And yet, we’ve never had a conversation that lasted more—this is our longest conversation.” Your eyes bulged as you tried to get through to him. “You are my perfect subject.” You folded your hands together hopefully.

Jay exhaled through his nose, barely reacting to your dramatic plea. He didn’t look convinced, but he also hadn’t shut you down yet, which meant you still had a shot.

But as you sat there, hands folded as you pleaded with him to let him be your subject, he couldn’t help but actually feel bad for you. Funnily enough, he knew you needed this. He knew—given the math situation that you needed all of the help you could get. That at least if you failed math, maybe getting a good grade for this assignment could give you some wiggle room to not flunk and lose your cheer scholarship that you worked your ass off to get. 

The look on your face reeked of desperation and a part of him found it funny, also partially attractive that you’re so willing to beg and plead your case as to how much you needed him. But he wouldn’t dare to say that aloud; he had some sort of couth.

But he felt that sickly, disgusting twisty feeling in his stomach at the way you looked at him, like you needed him. The way you said “my perfect subject.” Not just a perfect or the perfect subject. He was your perfect subject. 

He hated the way he noticed the detail.

Even more so, he hated the way that the deepest, darkest part of him couldn’t let him say no to you.

“You’re making a weird argument,” he said flatly, stirring his cereal. “The fact that we don’t talk much should mean you don’t pick me.” He opened his mouth, for once—hesitating before speaking. To which you took notice and perked up in excitement, but covered your mouth with your conjoined hands. Afraid of putting him off even further. 

Jay sighed, dragging his spoon through his cereal as if stalling. “If I say yes, you’re not gonna make this weird, right?”

You gasped, pressing a hand to your chest. “I would never make this weird.”

Sunghoon scoffed. “You’re literally making it weird right now.”

You shot him a quick glare before turning back to Jay. “I’ll be professional. Completely journalist mode. Objective, unbiased, purely academic.” You held up three fingers like a scout pledge. “You won’t even know I’m there.”

Jay arched his brow. “That’s actually worse.”

“Jay…” You half-whined, half-sighed with resignation.

Oh, and the way you said his name. 

“Okay. I’ll do it.” He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling like he was signing his life away.

Your face lit up instantly, your hands slamming against the table in excitement. “Wait, for real?”

“What’s for real?” He looked, with furrowed brows.

The group—sans you—collectively let out a groan. You were too happy to judge him right now. “I mean, are you actually going to help me?”

“I said yes, didn’t I?” 

That was more than enough for you.

—

You woke up with a little pep in your step, the sun was shining, birds chirping, and your skin was glowing. Fortunately enough for the sake of your assignment, your other professors gave you the week for your research and observation of Jay. Of course, when you came back you had to catch up but you had to take your wins while you could get them. 

As you walked out of your dorm and embraced the crisp air, you put on your headphones to fully dive into the fall weather that you were having. You and Jay both agreed to meet at the cafe but you decided to show up a little earlier to set up your things and whatnot.

You entered the student run cafe and quietly greeted everyone behind the counter as you found a booth in a quiet corner; hopefully something that will make Jay comfortable, some privacy maybe.

Plopping down into the booth with a grunt, you gleefully pull out your laptop to open up a blank document for you to type on right beside one with questions that you’ve prepared. Then you dug in your bag for a folder with some other papers and set them on the table. Resting them on top of the folder as you were afraid of the table not being clean and staining the paper. 

Luckily, Jay arrived at the exact time that you agreed upon. Which is just like him, never too early nor late but just on time. “Hello,” he said plainly as he sat down across from you. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Park.” You smiled, leaning your elbows on the table and resting your chin in your hands. 

He furrowed his brow, “Since when do you speak to me this way?”

“Since I promised that I would maintain my professionalism to not make you uncomfortable.” You nodded affirmatively, “So if this is what it takes to make you feel as safe as possible then I’ll do what I can.”

Jay gave you a flat look, “That actually makes me more uncomfortable.”

You stifled a laugh, leaning back to neutral position. “Duly noted.”

Leaning back, Jay glanced down at the assortment of papers, your open laptop, and the neatly placed folder. “You’re really taking this seriously, huh?”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I have to. It’s my grade, and you’re a particularly difficult subject.”

He tilted his head, “How so?”

Sighing, you cross your legs beneath the table. “You don’t talk. But that’s gonna change today.” You say bluntly, picking up a pen.

Jay sighed, shifting in his seat. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

You sat up a little straighter. “Great. So before we start, let’s go over some ground rules.” You pushed the papers toward him. “I made a rough outline of what this project is going to look like—structured interviews, observational research, some candid moments here and there. Nothing too invasive, but I need you to be honest with me.”

Jay picked up the paper, skimming it with mild interest. “And if I refuse to answer something?”

You shrugged. “You can pass, but you have to give me something to work with.”

“Fine,” he muttered, setting the paper down. “What else?”

“I also want to set some boundaries,” you continued. “If there’s anything you don’t want me to write about or anything that makes you uncomfortable, let me know now so I can adjust.”

Jay tapped his fingers against the table, thinking. “Just…don’t make me sound stupid.”

You blinked at him. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Duly noted, again. But please do understand that embarrassing you is not the goal here.” You put your hand on the table, to convey your openness. “The product is really going to be a reflection of me as well and if you were to look stupid then so would I. If that gives you any consolation.”

Jay exhaled through his nose, seemingly satisfied. “Alright, journalist. Fire away.”

You grinned, fingers hovering over your keyboard. “Let’s start with something…a little challenging—”

He groaned, “Already?”

You held your hands up apologetically, “I’m sorry, this one is rough but I promise it’s not that bad.” 

He nodded quietly with an—already—distressed sigh. 

Looking into his eyes with a gentle smile you say, “What’s your name?”

Surprisingly that did get a little bit of a laugh out of him. Not a loud one, but a small baby laugh. The kind of laugh where he laughs through his nose and he looks down to avoid your crinkled eyes as you doubled over the table. “That was a terrible joke.”

“But it got you to loosen up, no?” You point at him, “Look! I made you smile! Point me!” You wiggle excitedly in your seat which almost made him quirk a smile.

“Whatever,” He mumbled.

The laughter died down and you repeated your question, “Okay no seriously, what’s your name?”

“Park Jongseong, or—as you call me by my English name, Jay.” He nodded affirmatively.

You typed it out, nodding along. “Jay…got it.”

He squinted at you. “You knew that already.”

“Yeah, but I’m trying to make this official,” you said, gesturing to your laptop. “Journalist mode, remember?”

Jay rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

“Alright,” you continued, tapping your fingers against the keyboard. “Next question—where are you from?”

He leaned back against the booth. “Born in Seattle, raised in Korea.”

You tilted your head. “Do you feel more connected to one place over the other?”

Jay hesitated, his fingers twitching slightly before he crossed his arms. “I guess Korea, since I grew up there. But I don’t really think about it that much.”

You hummed, jotting that down. “Interesting. Alright, let’s do a rapid-fire round to warm you up.”

He eyed you warily. “Define ‘rapid-fire.’”

“Easy stuff,” you assured him. “Favorite color?”

“Purple.”

“Favorite food?”

“Anything that tastes good, but mainly meat dishes.”

“Biggest pet peeve?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Too many.”

You snorted. “Noted. Dream job?”

Jay opened his mouth, then closed it. His jaw tightened slightly before he shrugged. “Still figuring that out. But when I was a kid I wanted to be a chef.”

You smile endearingly, “That’s so cute, any reason?”

He looks around, almost like he was searching for the answer in the nooks of his brain. “Not really, I love to cook. I love food. I love to eat. So I just thought it would be a fun thing to do. I always loved helping my mom in the kitchen and those memories are nice to hold onto.”

“So, sentimental and personal value?”

He nods, “Yeah, sort of.”

You nod as you rapidly type this into the document, just as you were filling in the last bit of notes he interrupts you. “What about you?”

Your fingers stunt at the question, not expecting for him to actually care, or even ask. “What about me?”

“What did you want to be as a kid?”

You frown, “Don’t laugh.”

“You’re not that funny so I guarantee that won’t happen.” He deadpanned. 

You shoot him a glare, lips pressing into a flat line. “Wow. Thanks for that.”

Jay smirks, shrugging. “Just being honest.”

Rolling your eyes, you sigh. “Fine. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a mail carrier.”

The man tilts his head and as promised, does not laugh. “That’s stupid.”

You nodded reluctantly, fully prepared to defend yourself. “Right? But hear me out—I thought it’d be the perfect job. You get to walk around all day, wear a cute little uniform, and people are always happy to see you because you’re delivering their mail.”

Jay blinked, surprised by how sincere you sounded. “That’s…actually kind of sweet.” He fidgeted in his seat, as if he was uncomfortable by the feeling in your stomach.

You raised an eyebrow. “You just called it stupid.”

“I did,” he admitted. “But now it sounds weirdly wholesome. Like, the kind of dream a Pixar protagonist would have.”

You laughed, pointing at him. “See? You get it now.”

“No, I don’t but I see why a kid would like something like that. Very one-dimensional but…endearing so I won’t crucify you.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a laugh. “Anyway…”

Jay nods, finding himself getting too comfortable. “Yeah, yeah. What’s next?”

You glance at your list of questions, already grinning. ��Let’s talk about your daily routine.”

“Okay.” He leaned back in thought. “So…I wake up and am out of bed at exactly 9 AM. From there I do the typical, brush my teeth and wash my face. 9:19, I get dressed…then at 9:28 I—”

And as he rambled on about this rigid routine and you sat there in shock, almost gobsmacked at how much of a stick in the mud this guy was. Like holy fuck, is there any joy in his life?

“Then I spray my cologne at exactly 9:28 because it’s the perfect time to balance out the scent before I head out the door.” Jay continued, completely unaware of the disbelief that was likely written all over your face.

Letting out an incredulous laugh, trying to wrap your mind around this. “Woah, woah, woah…so you’re telling me you have this entire routine mapped down to the exact minute?”

“Is that bad?” Jay looked as if you were stupid or said something ridiculous. You caught yourself quickly, trying to do everything in the world to not make him go back into his shell and retract. “No! It’s not at all just…I didn’t expect for you to have so much discipline.”

He shook his head, “You say that as if everyone doesn’t have a routine.” From the look on his face, it was another moment of him just not being able to wrap his own mind around how you would think something like this is wild.

“Everyone has some sort of routine or regimen, but that? Jay, it’s like you’re in the military or something.” You smiled.

“Are you jealous?” He tilted his head, completely oblivious to how weird that sounded, though you were only slightly taken aback. You weren’t used to his blatant honesty yet but, baby steps.

“Very much so, actually.” You nodded curtly as you turned to your laptop to type some more information on there for your draft. “It takes me like an hour to get out of bed.”

Jay doesn’t reply but just suppresses a smile as he nods, he doesn’t judge you completely but for someone like him, he urgently needs some sort of structure. It simply gives him peace of mind and there’s nothing that makes him feel more secure than following his solid regimen. Sure, others would call him strict, anal-retentive, literally insane but if that’s the case then so be it!

“But for now, the last question.” You smile as you finish typing some more, “What is something that you’ve always wanted to do?”

“Nothing. I’ve done everything that I’ve wanted to do already.” He replies back almost immediately. 

“Everything?” You deadpanned, “There’s nothing that you want to do right now?”

He pursed his lips as he slowly shook his head, “Nope. I’ve seen the world, I’m fortunate enough to have given back to people that need it, I’m lucky enough to attend one of the best universities in the country.” He shrugged, “All before I’m 30.”

A part of your stomach flipped, unsure if it was from how attractive he was from the mix of arrogance and humility. But maybe…envy?

Jay, along with many other students at your university, were very wealthy and there was no denying that he lived comfortably. His father was on the Board of Directors of a world-renowned software engineering company and his mother was the Creative Director of a high-end global fashion brand. They had a wonderful marriage and Jay never had to worry about not having anything—he only had to worry about how much he was able to get. 

Granted he can’t control who his parents were, Jay knew the privilege that he held and was not ignorant to that fact. He was lucky to have a childhood with minimal trauma, great friends, a happy home, and to be attractive because he knew that privileges came with that too. 

As for you, you came from a middle class family and your childhood wasn’t entirely too bad. You were a child of divorce and your parents couldn’t stand the other, you had to share things with your siblings, and when it was time to apply for college you had to work tirelessly to earn scholarships to supplement tuition because your grades just weren’t good enough. But you weren’t stupid, you just had to find a sport to be undeniable in, so by the grace of everything good your parents put you and your younger sister in cheer when you were kids. She found other things and ventured off while you stuck with cheer. Now here you are at Decelis University on a full ride.

But that didn’t come easily. Serious groveling was involved.

So as Jay spoke about how he’s lived a life of travel, charity, and world-class education—you only had the latter in common. And that hurt you more than you’d like to admit. 

You so utterly wished you were able to travel, use your means for good, and have parents to brag about. 

You swallowed, forcing a polite smile as you tapped your keyboard. “Right. Of course. That makes sense.”

Jay didn’t say anything, but you felt his gaze settle on you. Not sharp, not piercing—but steady. You could practically hear him analyzing your silence.

“And you?” he asked suddenly.

You blinked, surprised he even cared enough to return the question. “Me?”

He nodded once. “What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?”

You hesitated, your fingers pausing mid-gesture on the trackpad. “Honestly? I want to travel. I want to see somewhere far away. Somewhere where no one knows me.” You tried to keep your voice light, casual. “I wanna sit on a train that cuts through foggy mountains, or eat food I can’t pronounce off a plate I don’t recognize. I want to…disappear for a while.” You nodded with something distant in your gaze, as if you were on that train already. Eating that food and trying and failing to make friends with the locals.

Jay’s eyes didn’t move from yours. He didn’t offer sympathy. He didn’t soften. He just regarded you like he was simply encoding the information you were giving him, like he couldn’t relate but he was trying to understand anyway. “That’s not impossible,” he said plainly.

You waved him off but let out a smile right after. “For you? Probably not.”

Jay raised an eyebrow. “You think I didn’t work to get where I am?”

You looked at him, dry. “Did you have to beg the financial aid office for three weeks straight and pray someone lost your paperwork just so you could get more funding?”

He was quiet again. And then, “No.”

You turned back to your laptop. “Exactly.”

Jay didn’t apologize. He didn’t offer a solution. He just leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.

“Then maybe you should get better at begging.”

You froze.

It wasn’t said with malice. He wasn’t being cruel. But still—it hit like a slap. Cold, clean, and sharp enough to draw blood.

You blinked down at your laptop, suddenly unable to see the screen clearly. Your throat tightened and a piercing rush of fury made haste to your stomach.

“…Right.” You said it lightly. Like it didn’t matter. Like you weren’t already replaying the words in your head on loop, wondering if he meant them as an insult or advice or some strange mixture of both.

Jay shifted slightly in his seat. If he noticed the change in your tone, he didn’t say anything. He just went quiet again—returning to that wall of silence you’d gotten so used to at the beginning.

And just like that, you were reminded exactly why you never talked about stuff like this with people like him.

—

Later that night, Jay along with the guys—sans Heeseung, he was out on a date with his current girlfriend—along with their freshman friend, Jungwon, were playing Fortnite.

As Jay sat in his bedroom, eyeing his PC with his blue-light glasses, he heard muffled swears and screaming through his headphones as one of them was downed. “Yo Jay, revive me, what the fuck!” Jake yelled into the mic as he was downed during a gunfight. 

Jay instinctively hit the key combo to crouch and build cover, shielding Jake’s fallen avatar as bullets whizzed past them.

“You’re too far out,” Jay muttered, reviving him anyway. “You always do this. Every time.”

“Bro, just say you love me and go,” Jake huffed.

“He’s not gonna say that,” Sunghoon laughed. “Jay probably hasn’t said ‘I love you’ since he was, like, six.”

“I say it when I mean it,” Jay replied coolly, tone dry as ever.

“Oh, so never,” Jungwon piped in, and the rest of the guys lost it.

Jay rolled his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Focus up. We’re top twenty.”

But just as he adjusted in his seat, Jake broke the flow again. “Wait—how’d that interview go earlier? You were with my girl for a minute.”

Jay deadpanned, “She’s not your girl, she doesn’t like you. She’s rejected you multiple times, she will never want you. Ever, in your life.” He concealed a smile, trying not to laugh at his own cruelty.

The call went silent then Sunghoon and Jungwon ended up bursting into their own laughter. Jungwon’s being the loudest of course. 

Jake smiled too, trying to seal his laughs as well—though he was defeated. “Shut up! She’ll come around one day.”

Jay adjusted his headset, the smirk still tugging at his lips. “Sure, bro. Just keep telling yourself that.”

“Nah, I’m serious,” Jake said through a laugh. “Girls love the long game. I’m just giving her time to realize I’m the love of her life.”

Sunghoon snorted. “More like time to block your number.”

“Or file a restraining order,” Jungwon chimed in, wheezing.

Jake gasped dramatically. “I would never harass! I’m a gentleman.”

Jay hummed, casually looting a nearby chest. “A gentleman wouldn’t call her ‘my girl’ when she’s clearly not interested.”

Jake exhaled, letting the teasing roll off. “Alright, alright. Point made. How’d it go though? Actually.”

Jay leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing on the screen like he was thinking more about earlier than the game. “It went fine.”

“Just fine? You were with her for hours.” Sunghoon inquired, looting in one of the bunkers they arrived at just in time. 

Jungwon followed suit as he axed at some gold, “Wait, what girl are we talking about?”

Jay said your name blankly, eyes still very glued to the screen as he came out of the bunker and got in the car to drive them across the map.

Jungwon’s eyes widened, “The cheerleader? The captain?” He hopped out of the car to shoot other stragglers behind some trees. “Bro, she’s so fine.”

Jake perked up, “I’m telling you! I’ve been saying this for years!” He knocked an opponent and immediately went to shoot at his teammate.

Jay’s eyes, still not leaving the screen as he muttered, “She’s alright.”

Sunghoon laughed, “You’re trippin’, that girl could tell me to bend over and I’d do it yesterday.”

The boy in glasses furrowed his brows, “I’m not tripping over anything. I’m sitting down, what are you talking about? And Hoon, are you alright?”

“You piss me off…” Jungwon sighed. “And yeah, that was crazy. Valid, but crazy.”

Jake laughed, “Trippin’ as in, you’re crazy. Losing your mind. What you said or did doesn’t make sense.”

Jay snorted, adjusting his loadout as he drove past an enemy squad without flinching. “That sounds stupid as fuck. But, okay I get it. I just don’t agree.”

“You’re telling me,” Jake said, incredulous, “that you sat across from her for all that time and didn’t once think she was hot?”

Jay shrugged. “Didn’t say that. I said she’s alright.”

“Oh my God,” Jungwon muttered. “You’re lying through your teeth.”

“I’m not,” Jay insisted, swerving the car expertly through an ambush. “She’s highly intelligent. Thorough. Articulate. Actually listens when you talk. But yeah—sure. The first thing you focus on is that cheer skirt.”

Despite the fact that was in fact lying through his teeth, Jay found you incredibly attractive and there was no denying that. But he wouldn’t dare admit it because then that would make it seem real. He respected you, a whole lot more than one would think. And the fact that he was so quick to defend you in this instance made him cringe at the thought, but satisfied that he stood for something in the name of you.

Jake gasped again. “How dare you reduce me to a stereotype!”

Sunghoon barked a laugh. “You are a stereotype.”

Jake ignored him. “But wait, what was the vibe though? Like, did y’all actually talk or was it just, like, all questions and shit?”

Jay hesitated, the car slowing slightly as the storm closed in around the map’s edges. “She just asked questions about me.” He shrugged, “my life, what I want to do, the things I’ve always wanted to do, et cetera.” 

“And…you said?” Jungwon pried.

“I just answered her questions, but it got weird on the last one.” 

Jake narrowed his eyes, even though Jay couldn’t see it. “What was the last one?”

Jay scratched the side of his neck, still focused on the screen. “She asked me what I’ve always wanted to do. So I told her the truth. That I’ve done most of it already—travel, service, the academic stuff.”

Sunghoon hummed. “Okay,”

Jay ignored him. “But then I asked her the same question. And she said she wants to disappear.”

“Disappear?” Jungwon echoed, his voice dipping.

“Not in a scary way,” Jay clarified quickly. “Just…like go somewhere far. Somewhere no one knows her. Ride trains. Be unrecognizable for a while. Just be somewhere new.”

Jake went quiet, his fingers pausing over his keys. “That’s…actually pretty cool.”

Jay nodded once. “She meant it too. Said it like she’s been dreaming about it for years.”

“And what’d you say?” Sunghoon asked, a little more gently now.

Jay sighed, his voice getting quieter. “I said that’s not impossible. That if she really wanted it, she could do it.”

Jungwon blinked. “Okay, not the worst response—”

“But then she waved me off and was like ‘for you, probably not.’” He reflected as he leaned back against the back of his chair. “And I took it a little personally and assumed that she thought that I didn’t work for what I have.”

“Oh no…” Sunghoon groaned, already smelling something negative from a mile away. He knew how Jay got at times, he genuinely didn’t—and still doesn’t—know how to talk to people. It’s not like he means to be this way, but it just takes him time to warm up to people. If it’s not his family or his friends—that he’s known for the last twenty years—then he really doesn’t know how to navigate emotional nuance. Jay’s not cruel, not cold, but he’s clinical. Methodical. He speaks in facts and solutions. And sometimes, that means he ends up sounding like a dick when he doesn’t mean to.

“Then she said that wasn’t what she meant but then asked me if I ever had to beg financial aid for more money. I, obviously, said no. But then I told her that she should get better at begging then.” He sighed. 

“Oh, you’re shitty.” Sunghoon laughed as he rubbed his eyes, groaning. “Dude, why would you say that?”

“I don’t know!” Jay snapped, a little defensive, but mostly just frustrated with himself. “It came out before I could stop it. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Jake winced. “You told a scholarship student to get better at begging. Like she hasn’t already had to do that a hundred times.”

Jay dragged a hand through his hair, clearly regretting everything. “It was supposed to be a joke—like, a dry one. I thought she’d get that I wasn’t being serious.”

“She’s not one of us, Jay,” Jungwon said, unusually pointed. “She doesn’t know your humor. And even if she did, that’s not funny.”

“Yeah bro, she’s a girl, you can’t talk to her like she’s a fucking man.” Jake said, trying to lighten the mood but still firm. “Like, guys are different, we can take jabs and laughs, but with girls...you can’t just throw shit like that around.”

Jay paused, processing. “What does gender have to do with this?”

Jake leaned back in his chair, exhaling like it was obvious. “It’s just how it is, man. Girls already hate men as is. I curse at you, call you names, sure, but I would never say any of those things to a woman, ever.” He shook his head as he leaned back into his chair. “It’s also a respect thing too.”

Jay frowned, his brow furrowing. “I don’t think that’s about gender. If anything, I’ve known you for years. If I can take shit from you, she should be able to handle a dry comment. You guys joke with her all the time.”

Jake shook his head. “You don’t get it, dude. Like, you see how I curse at you? Call you a dumbass every other minute? I know you don’t take it personally, but if I said some of that stuff to a girl, she’d think I was being an asshole, not just joking around. It’s different.” He perked up, making his final point. “Also, the way you talk to her—when you rarely do—is like you can’t stand her already so how do you think she’d take that?”

Sunghoon chimed in, his voice light but understanding. “Exactly, man. You’ve got this wall of sarcasm, and some people—especially if they don’t know you well—can’t see it as anything but you just being a dickhead. She probably heard that, and it didn’t feel like a joke.”

“I don’t even think it’s that, it’s the fact that she was vulnerable enough to be real with you and you just shit on her.” Jungwon said idly, landing the last shot before winning a victory royale for the squad.

Jay sighed, “Yeah, I don’t feel great about it.”

“Good. You can actually feel something other than disdain and dejection for once.” Sunghoon said as he bit his apple and tapped on his desk.

“Those are big words for Elmo,” Jay muttered, half under his breath as he reached for his water bottle.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, unimpressed. “You see what I mean? That’s exactly the shit I’m talking about. You deflect everything with sarcasm.”

Jake pointed at his screen. “And that’s cute when we’re roasting each other during a game, but when someone’s opening up to you…”

Jay swirled his water bottle before taking a sip. “I’m not trying to be an asshole. I just…don’t always know what to say.”

“We know,” Jungwon said, cracking his knuckles. “That’s why we’re saying think next time. She wasn’t trying to play you or be dramatic. She was sharing something real, and you basically made a joke out of it.”

Jay was quiet for a second too long. His screen dimmed slightly, signaling how still he’d gotten. 

Jake noticed the silence and took the opportunity to cut the tension. “Anyway,” he said, stretching in his chair, “she’s still bad as hell though.”

Sunghoon laughed. “Dude, facts. Like, no offense to your emotional growth or whatever, Jay, but she’s gorgeous.”

“Deadass,” Jungwon chimed in. “When she walks by in that uniform? Everything drops. My jaw, my heart, my stomach, my GPA, my balls—”

Jay interjected, returning to the conversation. “I said she’s alright.”

The call fell silent for a beat.

“…Are you gay?” Jake asked bluntly.

Jay blinked. “What?”

“Like, respectfully,” Jake said, leaning forward. “You just said she’s alright and not, like, ethereal, which is a crazy take.”

“Right,” Sunghoon nodded. “Like, it’s okay if you are. Just tell us now so we stop wasting time setting you up with every fine girl we meet.”

Jay stared at his screen, unamused. “I’m not gay.”

“You sure?” Jungwon teased. “Because saying she’s just ‘alright’ when she looks like that is wild.”

Jay sighed. “I’m just not interested in her like that.”

Jake leaned into the mic, grinning. “So you admit she’s fine, though?”

Jay hesitated, then exhaled sharply. “I acknowledge she is conventionally attractive, sure.”

Sunghoon snorted. “You sound like Siri.”

“I’m just saying,” Jay shrugged, sipping his water again. “I’m not blind. I just don’t base my entire personality around girls I’ve never had a conversation with.”

Jake clutched his chest. “I have had conversations with her—”

“She called you delusional to your face,” Jay deadpanned.

“And I respect her honesty!” Jake defended.

Sunghoon pointed out, “There’s a lot to like, Jay.” He nods affirmatively, “Once you get to know her, she’s so sweet. She’s a great girl.”

Jay deadpanned, “So why don’t you date her then?”

“Because he knows not to play with me.” Jake said passively as he stood up to stretch. 

Jungwon rolled his eyes, “Shut the fuck up, bro.”

Jake scoffed as he twisted at the waist, cracking his back. “She wants me and you know it. You’re just mad because I don’t fumble every conversation I have with her.”

Jay didn’t even look up. “You fumble every other one though.”

Sunghoon wheezed. “He’s got you there, man.”

Jake put his hands on his hips, mock offended. “You’re just jealous because when she talks to me, she laughs. You get ‘that’s not what I meant’ and a pity smile.”

Jay blinked slowly. “But she’s also the one that really wants to be my friend so…”

“Okay,” Jungwon interrupted, dragging his chair closer to the screen. “We’re spiraling. Let’s just agree none of us are winning with her right now.”

“I am,” Jake said under his breath.

“Bro, shut the fuck up,” all three of them said in unison.

Jake raised his hands in surrender, a smug grin spreading across his face. “Just saying. Some of us have charm.”

Jay looked dead at his screen, monotone. “You’re wearing a Naruto headband.”

Jake held it up proudly. “And I still get more girls than you.”

Jay smiled, “That’s by choice.” He laughed, “Believe me,”

Jake’s jaw dropped. “Nah, bro, be serious. You haven’t had a proper crush since we were fifteen.”

Jay leaned back, utterly unbothered. “That’s because I have taste. And standards.”

“Oh my God,” Jungwon muttered, rubbing his temples. “Here we go.”

Jake was not letting it go. “What, so every girl I’ve liked is beneath your standards now?”

Jay shrugged. “I didn’t say it. You did.”

Sunghoon laughed, wheezing now. “This man really thinks he’s better than the rest of us just because he’s emotionally constipated.”

“I’m selective,” Jay corrected, folding his arms.

“You’re allergic to joy,” Jungwon said flatly.

Jay pointed. “Selective.”

Jake crossed his arms. “Alright, selective—so what’s the deal with you and her then?”

Jay blinked. “What deal?”

Jake leaned forward, grinning now. “You think she’s pretty?”

Jay paused for a half-second too long. “She’s…alright.”

The silence was deafening.

Sunghoon leaned toward the mic, deadpan. “Do you like men?”

Jay didn’t even flinch. “Only your dad.”

—

So in some weird, fucked up way, after that meeting your life has seemed to spiral even more. 

It’s only been two days since, and while you had to return back to class soon—you hadn’t even looked Jay in the eye since. And respectfully so. 

But it’s like he just put some weird curse on your life. Your hair has been frizzy, the gel in your wash and go was giving out which resulted in you having to slick it back. Which wasn’t bad, it just meant you had to put extra time into your appearance—which means you have to get up earlier—and gel is not cheap!

You’ve been having cramps because your period has come back with a vengeance, it’s been raining, and to make matters worse…your laptop gave out. 

Was the laptop like ten years old? Yes, but that’s not the point as if she couldn’t wait to give out at a better time? 

Luckily, all of your files and anything worth keeping were all saved on cloud. But besides your phone and tablet, you had no convenient device to access them on. And it wasn’t like you could just get up and buy a new one. Money was tight at home right now and you weren’t going to have a job until the upcoming summer. Which even then, still wouldn’t give you enough money for another computer.

So as you sat at your desk in your dorm, hands shaking over your laptop keyboard as you eyeballed the blacked out screen—you pondered what the bond for an arson offense would be. 

Your chest heaved as your head grew tight, tears threatening to release tears as you quickly grabbed your phone. You needed to let this out.

you: are y’all at the dorm?

sunghoon <3: yeah why?

heeseungie <3: mhm

jakey <3: yes beloved

jay: no, at my place

you: ok well besides jay, everyone evacuate

blowing up this entire campus rn, me included

sunghoon <3: ?????

heeseungie <3: um ???

jakey <3: HELLO ??/1!1!/1/??

you: me included

EVERYBODYS dying bro idc

heeseung <3: what happened kiddo?

you: bro my fkn laptop is GONE

like not working

dead

conked out

DONE-ZO

NIENTE

jakey <3: wasn’t she like rly old tho??

you: that’s not the point

the point is that I NEED HER NOW MORE THAN EVER BRUH LIKE WTF ????

ngl this has not been my week

sunghoon <3: yeah that’s gotta suck omg i’m so sorry

heeseungie <3: no fr like if i had an extra one or something i would seriously give it to you

jakey <3: yes srsly i’m so sorry love

jay: does this mean our sessions are over?

you: yes for now, i have to speak to my professor and ask for an extension or some accommodation for rn

guess ur off the hook for a while, i’ll just let u know

jakey <3: i mean you could always use my laptop when you need to

you: oh thanks jake

jakey <3: you just gotta come over to my dorm to get it tho

you: i am going to put my hands on you

jakey <3: i’d actually really like that

heeseungie <3: you just…

—

It took everything in Jay’s power to not bust a gut in this situation. It was almost pathetic really, like this was laughable. He had to sit there with you and the other guys as you continuously ranted about the minor inconveniences that were throwing off your routine. Your hair, the fuckass weather, him, and now your laptop.

And maybe that’s what made it so funny. That you were actually stressed. Not in the performative, “oh my god my life is ending because I chipped a nail” kind of way, but in the “I’m one inconvenience away from crying in public” kind of way. And Jay could see it in your eyes—even through the screen. The way your hands trembled around your phone. The way your voice cracked mid-rant when you started talking about your files. The way you tried to play it off with drama and threats of arson, but the bags under your eyes said you were just really fucking tired.

It was that—more than the jokes, more than the laptop, more than the insult you texted him directly—that stayed with him.

Jay wasn’t good with feelings. But he knew guilt. He knew it very well.

That night, he stared at his ceiling with one arm flung over his head and the other scrolling through his phone. His Apple store cart sat open, untouched for twenty minutes. The MacBook Air (15”, Midnight, 256GB) hovered near checkout. He added a sleeve. Then deleted it. Then added it again.

Then he opened Amazon against his better judgment, typing ‘macbook air 15 inch case’ into the search bar. So as he perused some of the options, he saw a clear, glittery one that mirrored the one you had on your last computer. Okay, nice. Add to Cart.

 Then he caught himself looking at a bunch of stickers, some funny ones, some cute ones, some aesthetic ones, he didn’t care he just added all of them. Add. Add. Add. Then purchased them quickly then switched back to the Apple page and added the extra annual eighty dollars for insurance and pressed buy without a second thought. Labeling both orders as gifts so he could avoid putting his name.

“I’m not doing this because I feel bad,” he muttered to himself. “I’m doing this because…she needs it. That’s it.”

The confirmation email popped into his inbox a few seconds later, notifying him that both orders would be in your P.O. box in two days. 

He didn’t say anything to the group the next day. Just went to class like normal. Looked right through you when you walked into lecture, wet hair tied up, hoodie swallowing your shoulders. He watched as you opened your notebook and used your tablet to follow along with the slides on the projector screen.

And the whole time, he said nothing.

—

You didn’t check your P.O. box until late that evening. You only stopped by because the notification wouldn’t stop popping up on your phone and you thought it was maybe a bill or another random spam from that shitty Mediterranean place off campus.

Confusion, the expression on your face as you got two slips for your box and brought two different packages back to your room. You don’t recall ordering anything this size but you just chalked it up to the seller not having small enough boxes to fit your skincare into.

So when your eyes laid on a thin, sleek white box with a fraction of its logo out of it…your stomach dropped. As well as a sleeve.

You scrambled to the other box to open it, seeing a boatload of stickers, a case, and everything else. The air around you shifted, what the fuck. 

Tears misted your eyes as you scanned for a note, something, any indicator of this not being a fluke. Fortunately for you, a note was printed in the package with the stickers and case:

first math notes, now a laptop?

whatever happened to hello, my name is…?

well let me start, my name is

— a friend

p.s. the laptop is insured. if anything happens to it, just give it to them under your name.

You didn’t know whether to be creeped out and deeply troubled or appreciative and suddenly in love? For someone who threatened arson and assault on a trusted friend, you weren’t exactly within your right mind and that’s okay!

But despite feeling scared—you were going to worry about that later—your chest convulsed a bit as you sat down at your desk. Tears biting at your eyes and eventually giving way to the oncoming ones. 

You wanted to leave the tears to your period, or maybe even the mild seasonal depression. But this was truly surreal, again creepy, but surreal. 

This might sound super dramatic—hello, if not then what are we even here for—but you sobbed, hands shaking as you hugged the laptop to your chest. Your forehead resting on your desk as tears pooled onto the surface. 

You didn’t know who to thank. The universe? God? Allah? Buddha? Your ancestors? Whoever it was to thank for sending this mystery person into your life that so obviously had the means to help you in such an urgency and dire situation.

Your whole life was this laptop, it had stuck with you through part of middle school, high school, the first two and half years of college and you hadn’t really known how much it had meant to you until you didn’t have it anymore.

For now, you weren’t going to focus on who did it. Just the moment and the gratitude of your problem being solved. 

Small—well—Major victories.

—

After time had set in, you had time to rest and recalibrate. Having this time for yourself definitely helped alleviate the stress. 

With this, though, you started to make sense of things. 

The only person you had even told about your struggles in math were your mother. No one else as you didn’t want anyone to think you were stupid for being in danger of failing. Academic insecurities, they’re never rational. As if you’re the only person in the world to be bad at math.

Then, you had only told your Flower-4 about the laptop situation. 

Nothing made sense. There were major discrepancies in this. When you had told your mom about your math quarrel, you were in a public place where anyone could’ve seen or heard you. Okay, whatever. But there is something to note that you definitely do need to scan the places you walked into from now on. 

Plus, the laptop thing happened so quickly that you didn’t even have time to complain about it for long before there was a new one in your hands. But clearly this was the same person.

Despite that, you loved your new computer. It was nice, sleek, slim, a lot faster than the last one and that was a major step up. Plus, at least it was insured. You kept open beverages too close to your electronics more than you’d like to admit. 

You sat in the courtyard at some random table as you typed away on your new device. The weather had been better the past few days and you decided to take advantage of the cool weather. So here you were, hoodie and sweats in tow, hunched over your laptop as you hurried to catch up on the work you had put off the last two days. The wind blew your coily hair all kinds of ways so you just put it up and out of the way for the time being. 

Blasting music in your headphones, you couldn’t hear a thing and that was more than enough reason for you to lock in on your assignments. Until you felt a tap on your shoulder and saw someone plop down at the chair right across from you.

“Good morning, gorgeous.” The annoyingly attractive Jake sat with a smile that shone the light of a thousand suns. 

You let out a small laugh as you moved one of your ear pads to the side so you could hear him. “Hi, Jake.”

“How are y—Woah!” He leaned in closer to inspect your shiny new toy. “When did you get this? I thought you were assed out!”

Jake was nothing if not nosy, and as much as you loved him as an older brother—only a few months difference—you could not bring yourself to be real with him right now. Unless he was the culprit, a culprit wouldn’t act as surprised as he was now. He’s such a transparent person that anyone could tell if he was lying, it didn’t take much. 

Not to mention, you really didn’t want anyone having eyes and ears on this until you knew for sure what was going on yourself. 

“I thought so too. But I just had to dip into my savings.” You sighed as you peered up at him. 

“Damn,” Jake said, leaning back with a low whistle. “That’s kind of...wow. This thing’s beautiful. Is that a matte finish?”

You hummed noncommittally, already returning to your screen in an effort to change the subject. “Yeah. It’s...nice.”

But he didn’t drop it. Of course he didn’t.

Jake tilted his head, watching you type with narrowed eyes. “Wait, so you bought this, like, yesterday?”

“Day before.”

“And had it shipped that fast with a custom case and glitter stickers?”

You didn’t answer fast enough.

He blinked. “Yo. That’s...kind of a lot for someone who was mourning her last laptop like a dead relative.”

You shot him a dry look. “What, you want me to carry its ashes around?”

“No, but I do want the truth,” he said, brows raised. “Because this isn’t adding up. You don’t move like that.”

You took a slow breath through your nose. You could feel the words building in your throat, the itch to say I didn’t do this, someone else did, to say it wasn’t me—but I don’t know who to thank, and it’s killing me, but you held back.

Instead, you shrugged. “Maybe I panicked. Retail therapy and all that.”

Jake gave you a long look, then nodded slowly. “Alright. I’ll drop it.”

Jake wasn’t a good liar, I said. Never said he wouldn’t try. But you made peace with the moment you had.

“Still, I’m happy you got this situated. Seeing you mope around all day was killing my fucking vibe.” He smiled as he pulled out his phone. 

You kicked him beneath the table, “Shut up,” 

Jake winced dramatically, clutching at his shin. “Abuse. Wow. Witnessed and documented.”

“Document this,” you muttered, flipping him off with zero conviction as you refocused on your screen.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he scrolled through something on his phone, but didn’t leave. Jake was like a cat in that way—once he found a sunny spot, he’d stay there until something more interesting came along. You didn’t mind. It was comforting, having him nearby. The silence felt less loud with him in it.

A soft breeze passed through the courtyard, rustling the trees overhead, and you let it wash over you. For the first time in days, the knot in your chest didn’t feel like it was going to strangle you. The world kept turning. You had your laptop. You had your hoodie. You had Jake, annoying and radiant and grounding as ever.

But still, your fingers paused on the keyboard.

Because that didn’t mean you weren’t wondering.

It didn’t mean you weren’t thinking about him.

Not Jake.

The other him. The one you hadn’t dared to name yet.

The one whose voice lingered at the back of your mind whenever things went quiet. The one whose long, steady glances made your stomach flip. The one who you hadn’t told anything to—but somehow already knew everything.

Your eyes flicked up, scanning the courtyard out of pure instinct.

But no one was watching.

Just Jake, kicking his feet under the table and muttering to himself about a sudden scrimmage they had tomorrow morning.

Still, now you were getting paranoid and this was starting to bug you.

—

Eventually, you did have to meet with Jay again. 

Regretfully so.

The one class he had got cancelled and he really didn’t feel like driving to campus to meet you. So you had to Uber to his house which was around twenty minutes away by car. You didn’t mind, Jay sent you the money for the ride, apologizing for the inconvenience. 

Okay, someone’s probably feeling bad.

You stared down at the payment notification on your phone, thumb hovering over the screen.

It wasn’t that you were suspicious of Jay. Okay, maybe a little. But he was just...weird. Not creepy weird—just closed-off weird. Methodical. Particular. The kind of guy who would vacuum the inside of his car twice in one day because “you can never be too careful.” The kind of guy who would write down your Starbucks order with a diagram to get it right the first time.

The kind of guy who, if he had done something nice for you, would absolutely never admit it.

Still, none of it made sense. Jay was smart, sure. Quiet. Observant, sometimes to the point of unsettling. But you hadn’t told him anything. Not about the laptop, not about the math midterm stress meltdown, and definitely not about the nights you cried yourself into a spiral because everything felt like too much.

So why were you getting this itchy feeling in your chest?

You pulled your hoodie tighter around you and stepped out of the Uber when it rolled to a stop in front of his house. He’d texted the gate code already—because of course he had.

Jay opened it just as you raised your hand to knock.

His expression was blank. Not unfriendly. Just...blank. “Hey.”

“Hi.” You stepped inside, sliding off your shoes and scanning the familiar layout of his living room. “Thanks for the ride.” You placed them onto an empty spot on the rack, hoping this wouldn’t throw him off. But he didn’t seem to mind.

Despite being friend-adjacent to Jay for three years, this was the first time you had been to his home. His very contemporary, modern home. Weirdly enough, it had looked so eco-friendly and smooth on the outside but inside, the architecture and formatting was so homey. It felt like someone actually lived here but…robotically.

All you saw in your view were the meticulous details: a symmetrical shoe rack with each pair facing the same direction, a wall-mounted calendar color-coded to an extreme degree, and a bookshelf that seemed more like a display case than a personal collection. Each book aligned perfectly at the spine. No dust. No clutter.

The couch looked like it had never been sat on. The throw blanket draped over the back was folded into a triangle. Who folds things into triangles?

Jay walked ahead of you, already moving with that same silent efficiency he always did—like a ghost who had a schedule.

You followed him into the kitchen, unable to stop yourself from scanning everything as if there were a clue hidden somewhere. Everything here was so spacious, like this was meant for a family rather than just one person. The lighting was warm, the countertops spotless, and there were two matching mugs on the counter already set out. One for him. One for you.

Okay. Oddly considerate for someone who barely speaks.

He poured water into a kettle like it was muscle memory, and you leaned against the counter, eyeing him.

“You do this for all your guests?” you asked lightly, half-joking, half-curious.

Jay didn’t look at you. “Don’t really have guests.”

He said it like it was a fact. Not sad. Not defensive. Just how things were.

You tilted your head. “So what am I?”

He glanced up at you then—finally—and there was a flicker of something in his expression. Not quite surprise. Not quite amusement. Just the ghost of a smile. “Exception.”

The kettle clicked to life behind him, and the kitchen settled into quiet again.

You blinked.

Okay, what?

You didn’t know what to make of that. You weren’t even sure he meant to say it. Maybe you misheard. But he turned back to the counter, calm as ever, and went back to his tea prep like he hadn’t just said something vaguely intimate and haunting.

Nonetheless, you cleared your throat—just to simmer the tension. “Anywhere you want me to set up?” You said as you toyed with the adjusters on your backpack. 

His gaze was still glued to the mugs, but he hummed in thought. “The table right there sounds good, thank you.” 

Without a word, you padded over to the kitchen table as you took out your materials needed to start. First, your journal. Then, your pencil case. Your folder, then lastly your computer. 

You hadn’t looked at him for a reaction, the same one that Jake had given you. Calm, slightly uncomfortable—not from him. If Jay made you uncomfortable then you wouldn’t be around him nor would you have asked all of this from him. Just nerves, the tension in the air from some weird mix of prior history between you two—not much to go off of as you could swear he hated your guts—and lust. 

Jay had always stood out to you. Out of all of his friends, he was the least flamboyant, the quieter one, the one that minded his business and didn’t speak unless spoken to. Something about his blunt, structured, logical ways was so alluring to you. As you are more of an emotional person, a huge part of you had always yearned for more pragmatism in a partner and his maker might have sprinkled a bit much of that in him and you’re not sure if you’re fine with this or not.

Despite the attraction toward his personality, Jay was undeniably sexy. In a very—this word is very overused but it fits—nonchalant way. He didn’t try too hard, he didn’t try nor want to be seen and that made a part of you feel glad that not many people had access to him. 

Contrary to Jake, Sunghoon, and Heeseung—even though they’re great people—they’re whores. They have their fun and are not scared to spread all the love they have to give to the world. They either jumped from girl to girl, or they just slept around. And while nothing was wrong with that, that’s not the type of man you wanted. 

Something about the lowkey ones always turn you on a whole lot more.

And despite Jay being a major dickhead at times, he wasn’t totally evil and that makes you have even an ounce of respect for his character. He stuck to the same people, no drama, intelligent, well-rounded, charitable, and honest—in more ways than one. 

So as he sat at the table with you, mugs in hand, he carefully slid the hot tea in front of you and a little ways from your belongings.

You offered a quiet “Thanks,” watching the way he handled the cup—deliberate, steady, like he thought through every movement before making it. It wasn’t just how he moved, it was how he existed. Controlled. Precise. Like he didn’t have time to waste being clumsy or accidental.

He didn’t say anything, just took a sip of his own tea and settled back against the chair, manspread in one of his forty different pairs of black sweats. 

You sipped yours too, still feeling that flicker of heat in your chest from earlier. Exception. God. Who even says that? And so casually. Like it didn’t carry a ridiculous amount of weight for someone who barely let anyone in.

Jay didn’t seem fazed, though. If anything, he looked…blank again. Not closed-off. Just unreadable. Like he was used to people not trying to figure him out. Or giving up halfway through.

But you decided to break the ice, “So last time we spoke, we just did a little questioning so that I could get a feel for your personality. Remember? The basic stuff, then the more fantastical, hypothetical ones?”

He nodded, “I remember, I was there.” He opened a package of cookies and dipped them in his tea, then quietly slid them over to you in offering. 

You raised your brow in suspicion but accepted the cookie nonetheless. “Yeah…” You looked down at your notes you took on your computer from last time. You scanned as you sighed, “Okay, well now we’re due for the observational stuff.”

Jay’s brows furrowed in confusion, “Observational? As in—”

“—as in I watch you,” you cut in, tone casual but your eyes sharp. “I observe your behavior in a natural environment. Not scripted. Not prompted. Just…you.”

Jay stilled, cookie halfway to his mouth.

You smiled at his hesitation. “Relax. It’s not like I’m writing your psychological profile for a government file. It’s just for class.”

He looked vaguely unconvinced. “And what does that entail? You sit here and stare at me for an hour while I drink tea?”

“Pretty much.” You shrugged, clicking your pen open. “I’ll ask a few small questions here and there, but I’m mostly just looking at your patterns. How you respond. The language you use. Your microexpressions.”

Jay leaned back in his chair, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “So…you’re people-watching. But with a clipboard.”

“Basically.” You jotted something down—nothing major, just a note on his posture, how he sat with one leg crossed, his arms loosely on the table, totally unguarded yet somehow unreadable. “But it’s more than that. I’m trying to understand the link between your expression and your personality. You know—body language, tone, subconscious cues.”

Jay looked thoughtful for a beat. “So if I start acting weird, it’ll ruin your data?”

You being a Psychology minor, it was almost irresistible to incorporate these elements into your work. This is what made you and your works stand out—asking questions work, yes. But seeing how someone moves gives you all the answers you need.

“Jay,” you deadpanned. “This is a journalism project, not the DSM-5.”

He blinked. “Same difference.”

You huffed a laugh, typing something out just to mess with him. “Noted: subject shows signs of paranoia under minimal pressure.”

—

For the next hour, you sat on Jay’s couch in his expansive living room. Watching as he read a book in the complete silence of the house. But before you could even sit on the couch, he made you change into one of his sweats. He didn’t like the grime of outside being on his clean couch. Which…fair enough.

He’d handed you the pants wordlessly, just held them out like it was routine. Like this happens all the time.

“I—what?”

“I don’t like outside clothes on indoor furniture,” he said, already walking away. “The fibers cling.”

“…Okay, Sheldon Cooper.”

But you’d changed anyway, mostly because they were soft as hell and a part of you didn’t mind being in his clothes. 

Okay then.

But Jay lived a very simple life, he spent a lot of his time reading, watching animal documentaries, and working on his assignments that are due for weeks in advance. You had noticed that throughout your observation of him, he had hardly touched his phone. It was actually all the way across the room and he had been peacefully going about his afternoon without so much of a thought. 

Before, there was jealousy on your end. As in, how could someone be so productive and put together? Jay was so infuriatingly patient, calm, and he had such a knack for making time for everything. He was able to get work done and lounge all within the hour and it made you feel so incompetent. A one hour assignment turns into a three hour assignment because you can’t stop checking your socials and finding the right songs to fit your vibe: 50 Cent or Lana Del Rey? One can never tell.

But he’s been watching some documentary on Ancient Greek Mythology for the last 30 minutes and you’d be lying if you said it was boring. 

As your eyes kept flitting from the mounted 75” TV and your notebook, there were flurries in your mind at this point. 

I don’t even want to do this right now.

A nap sounds great.

Jay is still an asshole, but he’s disgustingly attractive and I want to kill him for that.

Take a break, you’ve been watching him do nothing all day.

Which, your subconscious was absolutely right. A little break wouldn’t hurt and you can guarantee he’ll still be in the same position, doing the same thing that he’s been doing.

With that, you sigh and place your notebook on the coffee table right in front of you. Plopping back into the plush, almost cloudlike cushions of the couch. 

“Tired of me, already?” Jay poked, eyes looking over at you briefly before falling back onto the screen. 

You smiled, “Never,” He didn’t respond. Not verbally, at least. But his eyes lingered on you for a second longer this time. Just a flicker of a glance, like he heard more than what you said. Or maybe you imagined that. You shifted, suddenly aware of how his sweatpants pooled a little too comfortably around your thighs. How warm the couch was. How warm he was, just a few feet away.

The documentary droned on in the background, but your thoughts were no longer tracking anything remotely educational. The quiet between you was heavy again—but not awkward. Just…thick. Like honey.You fought the urge to say something else, something stupid or clever, just to fill it. But instead, you closed your eyes. “I’m not gonna fall asleep,” you mumbled, mostly to yourself.

Jay’s voice was low and amused. “You already are.”

You sat up, rubbing your eyes. “You’re just boring.” You pout as you look around. “This big ass house and you don’t even utilize the space, or even—do you even—what do you do here, Jay?”

Jay didn’t answer right away. He reached for the remote, lowering the volume just a touch before setting it back down with precision—like everything he did was measured, controlled. He looked over at you, one brow slightly raised, a lazy half-smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. “I exist.”

You blinked. “That’s it? That’s your whole itinerary?”

He shrugged, leaning back against the couch. “I read. I cook. I clean. I work. I take care of myself. I sleep. I don’t need to fill every second of my day to prove I’m living.”

You narrowed your eyes. “So you’re boring on purpose.”

He chuckled—low and deep. “Or maybe you just don’t know how to sit still.”

Ouch.

You scoffed lightly, crossing your arms. “I can sit still.”

“Mm,” he hummed, clearly not convinced. “Then do it.”

It wasn’t a challenge, not really. Just a simple invitation, like he was offering you the calm he lived in every day. Daring you to match his stillness, to see if you could last. “You’re actually right,” You stood up and plopped right next to him on the sectional part on this massive couch. It was about the size of a queen size bed so both of you could fit there comfortably, but it didn’t take much to close the distance. “Still. I’m being still, still I am.” You cuddled one of the pillows to you as your eyes fell back to the TV and he raised the volume.

Jay didn’t look at you right away, but you saw the tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he was fighting a grin. He adjusted his leg slightly to give you a bit more room—not that you needed it, but he noticed anyway.

“Wow,” he said dryly. “An achievement. Gold star for staying still for fifteen seconds.” You nudged him with your shoulder, still hugging the pillow to your chest. “Give me a break. These are parts unknown. I don’t know how to…chill.”

He let out a soft breath—half sigh, half laugh. “That’s sad.”

You turned your head to look at him, eyes narrowing. “It’s not sad. I’m just used to chaos. To movement. Noise.”

“I know,” he said simply, eyes still on the screen. “That’s why I’m surprised you even asked to do this project on me.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m the opposite of what you’re used to.”

The room fell into that thick, thoughtful silence again. Not awkward, just…weighty. Like everything between you two was slowly layering, brick by brick. And yet, you stayed exactly where you were. Still. Quiet. Unmoving. Not because you were trying to win, but because it felt strangely okay to be still with him.

You could hear your heartbeat in the silence—and his breath, steady, controlled, like he had nothing to prove and never did.

“I’m a cheerleader, it’s literally my job to have pep.” You smile as you look up at him, humored by him. 

Jay finally turned to look at you, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Yeah,” he said slowly, eyes scanning your face like he was seeing something new, “but you don’t have to perform here.”

That made your smile falter for just a second—not because it hurt, but because it hit. Quietly. Truthfully.

You blinked at him, your voice a little softer now. “What makes you think I’m performing?”Jay tilted his head a bit, resting it against the back of the couch. “You fill every room you walk into. It’s not a bad thing. It’s just…I don’t think you’ve ever really had the option not to.”

Your throat tightened just slightly, the way it does when someone clocks something about you that you hadn’t said out loud yet. You stared at the screen for a beat, though the documentary had long since faded into background noise.

“So what,” you said, trying to lighten it even as your voice stayed low. “You see through me now?”

Jay gave a small, amused breath. “No,” he said, almost shyly. “But I’ve been watching.”

He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t even trying to be intense. He just…was. Honest and low and matter-of-fact in a way that made your chest do something weird and clench-y.

You nudged his shoulder, “Hey,” laughing as you slowly edged closer to him. “That’s my job,” Jay’s lips twitched again, but he didn’t smile all the way. “Mm,” he hummed, eyes flicking back to the screen, though the weight of what he said still lingered in the air. “Guess I’m just trying to understand the person who keeps watching me.”

Usually, your problem is that you find and figure things out too late. But something about the words that he threw your way felt layered. Like they didn’t just mean one thing, something else was resting behind the words. 

This was very unusual with someone like Jay. Everything that he had to say was layered with fact and reason rather than allure and mystique. Not to beat a dead horse, but as pragmatic and objective as he is—it’s so weird to hear anything that could be interpreted as more than what it was. 

Though who he was made him even more attractive to you: you didn’t have to guess with Jay. He let you know how he felt, if he liked, if he didn’t, if he thought you were irritating him, you would know. 

He didn’t waste anyone’s time nor his own. Growing up with two entrepreneurs and businesspeople for parents, he learned at a very young age that time is money. And time—yours or someone else’s—is valuable. So he was very quick to let someone know what was going on. Never was anyone unsure of his stance on them or a situation. 

Except for you. One minute he was indifferent, the next he didn’t like you, now y’all are sort of friends. He was already so hot and cold and you could never guess with him.

You didn’t reply to it, just wanted to brush this under the rug. “I have an idea,”

He hummed, eyes still locked on the screen.

“How about we do things my way? Just for the day?”

Jay didn’t look at you right away. He let your question linger, absorbing it while the glow from the TV flickered across his face. “Your way,” he repeated slowly, not skeptical—just curious. “And what exactly does that entail? Glitter? Screaming? Matching outfits?”

You snorted. “Wow, okay, stereotype much?”

He gave a light shrug. “You’re the one with the pep.”

“Well,” you sat up straighter, a little smirk tugging at your lips. “Maybe a little glitter. Maybe a little chaos. Maybe…” You tilted your head, playful but with a flicker of sincerity, “...something simple for now. You won’t even have to leave the house.”

Jay finally turned to look at you, eyes catching yours in that calm, unreadable way he always had—but this time, there was something else there. A flicker of curiosity. Trust, maybe. Or at least the beginnings of it.

“Alright,” he said slowly, the faintest edge of a smile ghosting his lips. “I’ll bite. What’s your definition of simple?”

You grinned. “Let’s build a fort and watch Disney movies.” You shrugged, like it was such a great way to spend your Wednesday evening.

“I’m a grown man, I’m not watching Ariel and—”

You hold up your finger, “DCOMs, we’re watching those. I never said Disney Princess movies.”

He furrowed his brows, “What’s the difference?” 

He could laugh again at the look of disgust on your face. “I was more of a Cartoon Network kid, so…”

That threw you even more, “What?! You?! Park Jay?! Park Jongseong?!”

He held up his hand, now mirroring your repulsion, “Ew, don’t call me that.”

You laughed, “Sorry, but that just doesn’t make sense. It’s like,” you sit up to look at him. He was lying down partially and you were sitting up fully. So in some makeshift way, you were sitting above him and looking down at him as you spoke. “What you watched as a kid sort of…shapes you for the rest of your life. That’s because children are very impressionable. So a lot of adults that watched Disney Channel as kids tend to be a little peppier, a little witty in some cases, sometimes a little cynical.” You gestured around your hands as you ranted, Jay looking you in the eye as you did. Never wavering. “Meanwhile Cartoon Network kids grow up to be…class clownish, goofy, weird, but not weird-weird. More like…really niche and weird senses of humor because they grew up watching weird shows.” You smile, “Like Regular Show and Chowder are not for normal people. You kinda give me Disney XD, maybe Nickelodeon on a good day.”

As he watched you ramble he felt this strange thing called his heart soften. The way you went on about something as silly as children’s television made him rethink himself entirely. 

Your heart was genuinely so soft and pure.

Despite how cold and rude he’s been to you, you’re still so sympathetic and genuinely kind. Since then and his conversation with the guys, he knows how much of a dickhead he’s been. You had always tried to be his friend and he understood why—not always but—you guys had been in the same circle for years and it’d be weird to not make friends. But now that you had kind of used this project to get to know him…he was more grateful than you would think. Sunghoon was absolutely right, you really are great. Such a sweet girl at heart.

He was rude to you but you let it go, didn’t hold it against him, and still tried to bond with him. At least from his perspective, but the last session was the worst he’s felt about himself in a long time. Which is exactly why he’d been dialing it back. Not as snippy, smiled a little more, he just relaxed and it all wasn’t intentional.

Jay felt indebted to you and the only way he knew to repay you was to be nice. Ease up a bit. Plus, given the math and laptop thing, a huge part of him—the affectionate, good part of him doesn’t want to see anyone struggle if they don’t deserve it.

You sighed, the tiredness setting back in as you dropped onto your back beside him, the pillows cradling your head. “Anyway,”

Jay huffed a laugh through his nose—almost a real laugh. You smiled to yourself, eyes fluttering shut for just a second.

“Alright,” he said after a pause, voice quieter, more honest. “We can build the stupid fort.”

You peeked an eye open at him. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged like it was no big deal, but there was a softness around his eyes that betrayed him. “Could be worse ways to spend a Wednesday.”

Your smile was slow and bright, spreading across your face without even trying. And for the first time, maybe ever, Jay didn’t feel the instinct to roll his eyes or snap at you for it. He just let it happen—let you happen.

—

You clapped in glee as you eyed the massive, cushion-y fort you and Jay had put together.

It really was a masterpiece.

Layers of couch cushions, pillows, and throw blankets were stacked and draped over chairs and the sectional. A string of fairy lights Jay had begrudgingly dug out from some drawer wound around the makeshift walls, giving everything a soft, magical glow.

Jay stood with his arms crossed, surveying the chaos like he was trying very hard not to look impressed.

You turned to him, hands on your hips, beaming. “Admit it. You’re proud.”

He gave a noncommittal grunt, but his mouth twitched. “It’s…structurally sound. I’ll give you that.”

You gasped, clutching your chest. “High praise from Park Jongseong himself. I’m honored.”

“Stop calling me that,” he groaned, but there was no real bite to it.

Still grinning, you held up your hand signaling for him to wait a second. You scampered to your backpack to grab two adult coloring books, pencils, and markers. You flashed them in his direction in offering. 

Jay smiled, “Why do you have coloring books?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know, why not? Ask the girl I was written by.”

Jay huffed a laugh through his nose, shaking his head as he took one of the coloring books from your hand.

“You’re ridiculous,” he said, flipping through the pages with the kind of quiet curiosity he didn’t bother hiding anymore.

“And you’re boring,” you teased lightly, plopping back down into the fort with a dramatic flump. “It’s so relaxing, watching movies and coloring.”

He smirked, low and fleeting, and settled in across from you. The two of you laid on your stomachs, the fairy lights casting soft halos around your heads as you both set to work, the markers squeaking faintly against the pages.

For a long time, it was just that—soft music from the movie, quiet coloring, the occasional bump of your legs when one of you shifted.

Jay found himself glancing over at you more often than he was coloring. The way your face scrunched up in concentration when you picked a color, the way you hummed under your breath when a song you liked came on.

He hadn’t realized how easy it was to be around you until right now—no pressure, no weird tension, just quiet company. Which he could never say no to.

You caught him looking once and made a silly face at him, sticking out your tongue. He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small, genuine laugh that escaped.

Somewhere in the middle of coloring a crooked sun in the corner of his page, he heard you yawn—a soft, muffled sound. When he looked over again, you had your head tucked into the crook of your arm, marker still loosely held between your fingers.

You blinked slowly, fighting it, but it was over before it even started. You drifted off, face relaxed and peaceful under the glow of the fairy lights.

Jay set his marker down carefully and just... watched you for a second. It was stupid how something this simple—this innocent—could hit him so hard.

The teen pop music from Starstruck still played in the background, and he almost hated to move, to ruin it.

But then his phone buzzed.

Sunghoon: “warzone?”

Jay groaned quietly to himself, dragging a hand over his face. He should wake you up. He should say something.

But you were so peaceful…your face was smushed against the pillow you leaned on. Your coily hair had fallen in your face as your plump lips stared back at him. How could he move you right now?

Instead...he tucked a throw blanket over you, the movement careful and clumsy all at once. He hesitated for half a second longer, then finally tore himself away.

—

Jay went upstairs to his room, leaving the door ajar subconsciously. He plopped down at his PC to load up with the guys. 

“So what y’all been up to today?” Heeseung says in the mic.

Jungwon sighed, “Some fuck ass group project. Tell me how all of my classes got cancelled today and I had a meeting with my group for the project. And I didn’t go because…duh, I had no classes.”

Jay furrowed his brows at the logic but let him talk nonetheless. 

“Then I get an email from my professor telling me that I haven’t been doing anything for the project. Like, dickhead I’ve been doing all the work!” 

They all laughed at his anger which probably wasn’t something they should’ve been doing. But regardless, none of them cared. It wasn’t like Jungwon cared either.

“I love making you guys feel like shit over your problems.” Jake sighed dreamily as he rushed through the map.

Sunghoon remarked, “I think you’re just a bad person.”

“That too,” Jay said, half-distracted. 

“Fuck you guys, anyway, Jay what did you do?” Jungwon smiled with a roll of his eyes. 

Jay hadn’t exactly told the guys that you were coming over at all. 

He paused, thumb hovering over the “Deploy” button as his teammates waited for his reply. He tapped his mic, clearing his throat. “I—um—she came over for the project. Said she had to observe me and whatnot so we just did that.”

Heeseung smirked, “Observed what exactly?” 

He wiped his eyes beneath his glasses as they were itchy. “Just me. We didn’t do much—” 

“Much?” Jungwon called out. 

“Yeah, I just watched a—”

“Watched?” Sunghoon and Jake chimed in.

Jay burst out, “Bitch stop interrupting me!” 

Laughter exploded through his headset, each one of his friends reveling in his rare outburst. Jay closed his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Y’all are so fucking annoying,” he muttered.

“Okay, okay, we’re listening,” Jake said, but Jay could hear the barely contained amusement in his voice. “Continue, Mr. Observed.”

Jay sighed, clicking through his inventory absentmindedly. “We just watched a movie and now she’s just taking a nap.”

Silence. Too much silence.

Then—

“A movie?” Sunghoon drawled, dragging out the word like he was savoring it. “What kind of movie?”

Jay hesitated.

Jake gasped. “Nah. Nahhh. Don’t tell me you let her make you watch—”

“Starstruck,” Sunghoon cut in, deadpan. “You watched Starstruck, didn’t you?”

The silence stretched for a half-second too long.

Jay closed his eyes. “Shut up.”

Chaos erupted.

“No fucking way!” Jake howled. “That’s crazy! You—Park ‘I Only Watch Documentaries and War Films’ Jay—sat through Starstruck?”

“I’m sick,” Sunghoon wheezed. “Like, physically ill.”

“I need a second,” Heeseung said between laughs. “I can’t—”

Jay let them get it out of their system, clicking his tongue as he loaded up another round as he had died. They weren’t even playing together at this point, just playing at the same time. “You guys act like I haven’t done worse things.”

“Yeah, but this is so—random,” Jungwon wheezed. “Like, were you actually paying attention or were you just sitting there?”

Jay opened his mouth, closed it, then frowned. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Another wave of hysteria hit them.

Jake gasped. “Wait. Did you like it?”

“I tolerated it,” Jay corrected.

“No, bro, you liked it,” Sunghoon shot back. “Say it.”

Jay rolled his shoulders, his lips twitching. He wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction. “I’m focusing on the game.”

Heeseung laughed, “No, that girl will fall asleep standing up if you let her.”

Jake wiped fake tears. “I love this timeline. First, you’re buying mystery laptops, now you’re watching childhood rom-coms with her, bruh? What’s next? Matching pajamas?”

Jay froze, “Wait, what?” His hands froze on his keyboard and mouse. 

He hadn’t told anyone about his deeds, the notes nor the laptop. Mainly out of fear of judgment, shame because that meant that some part of him liked you. But also because of the guilt of how he treated you and Jay wasn’t necessarily an affectionate person. 

He just didn’t want to draw attention to himself, nor scare you off. Even though this situation could be considered stalking or maybe something that could make someone uncomfortable.

But if Jay didn’t know anything, he knew Jake. He knew that Jake was as nosy as a Toucan Sam and once he found something to sink his perfectly aligned teeth into, he wasn’t going to stop until he found out what he needed to.

“Don’t play dumb, I know.” He could practically hear the smirk in Jake’s voice.

Jay’s hands started shaking a bit, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” But of course, he tried to play it cool.

Jake snorted, “Yeah okay, and I’m the President.”

“Bro, for real, what are you talking about?” Jay pressed, voice steady but his knee was bouncing so hard under the desk he thought the floor might give out.

There was a pause—long enough for Jay’s anxiety to spike—then Jake spoke, casual, too casual.

“She told us in our group chat—”

Jungwon perked up, “Y’all have a group chat?!” He gaped at the new information, “Add me please!”

Heeseung brushed him off, “Shut up,”

Jungwon smacked his teeth, “I’ll get her soon, trust.”

Jake rolled his eyes, “No you won’t,”

Jay also laughed to himself, “Aren’t you like sixteen?”

Jungwon groaned in exasperation. “I’m two years younger than you guys, chill. Plus, young guys do it the best.”

Sunghoon sighed, “Jake, you were saying.”

Jake leaned in closer, lips to the mic. “Thank you,” he backed away. “Anyway, in the group chat she literally had a breakdown and threatened arson on Decelis because of her broken laptop. Like two days later, she somehow gets a brand new—better laptop with cute ass accessories? Especially when she was telling us how she couldn’t afford to buy a new one.”

The rest of them, sans Jay, hummed in understanding. 

Jay was still refuting all claims, “That doesn’t prove it was me, I didn’t do that shit.”

Jake smacked his teeth, “Bro, we didn’t do it. I damn sure didn’t. Literally I saw her the other day, like a day after she got it and she told me she had to go into her savings to buy a new one. Which I know was a lie.”

Heeseung interjected, “How would you know?”

Sunghoon chimed in, now putting the pieces together. “Because if she had the money she wouldn’t have complained about not being able to afford a new one. Whining about the inconvenience, yeah that makes sense. But she would’ve just replaced it that same or next day.”

Heeseung hummed, “Yeah, that makes sense. She wouldn’t have gone without if she knew she could just get a new one immediately. Her mood was horrible for the entire two days she didn’t have it.”

Jay stayed silent, his throat dry. His friends’ casual deductions were piecing everything together too cleanly, too quickly.

“And not just any laptop, either,” Jake said, practically grinning through the mic. “A fucking Macbook Air with the custom shit, bro. Like, pink keyboard cover, matching case, cute little charms—”

Heeseung cut in, “Wait, charms? Like, keychain charms?”

“No, dumbass,” Jake said, laughing. “Laptop charms. Like a lil’ matching aesthetic.”

Sunghoon whistled. “Yeah, nah. That’s intentional.”

Heeseung agreed, “You don’t accidentally buy that kind of shit unless you’re trying to impress.”

“Or if someone feels guilty…” Jungwon mumbled off-handedly.

Jay’s heart punched against his ribs so hard he almost couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation.

Guilty. That sounded about right.

He flexed his fingers on the mouse, willing his hand to stop shaking. His throat tightened like he’d swallowed a stone.

Heeseung must’ve caught on to the tension because he went, “Damn. It’s that serious?” He wasn’t there for the conversation about what he had said to you during y’alls last session. But Sunghoon had filled him in and needless to say, Jay definitely got another earful from him.

Saying someone should ‘get better at begging’ after talking about economic disparities, wasn’t exactly something that could brag about. And the fact that you were still nice to him after that only added salt to the wound. 

If he didn’t feel bad then something was definitely wrong with him, more so than what was already.

But at this point, his pride was entirely too much to admit that some part of him liked you. Even before this, he thought you were out of his league. Intimidating. And the only way he could combat the budding interest in you was by acting uninterested. 

So he couldn’t stop now. 

The silence on Jay’s end stretched on, suffocating, but he forced out a scoff, light and dismissive. “You guys sound insane.”

Sunghoon snorted, “If we’re insane, it’s because you drove us there with your denial.”

Jake chuckled lowly. “Just admit it, man. It’s not even a bad thing.”

Jay clicked around idly, pretending to load his next weapon loadout, pretending he wasn’t breaking out in a cold sweat. “There’s nothing to admit.”

Heeseung’s voice softened a little, losing some of its usual teasing edge. “You don’t gotta lie to us, bro. You’re allowed to like somebody, you know.”

Jay pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth, swallowing words that felt too heavy to say out loud. Like somebody. That sounded so…simple. Easy.

But it wasn’t. Not for him.

Because liking you came with consequences. With vulnerabilities he wasn’t ready to show. With guilt for every sharp word, every dismissive glance, every time he chose to push you away instead of pulling you closer.

Jungwon piped up again, voice thoughtful. “Honestly, if you did get her the laptop, that’s, like…one of the nicest things I’ve ever seen you do.”

As Jay heard them all politic and conspire around him, anger grew in the pit of his stomach. “I told you I didn’t do it. And I don’t like her like that. You guys spent like twenty minutes badgering me to admit that she’s hot and I told you she was but she’s not my type and I wouldn’t waste money on some peppy, desperate cheerleader.”

The call fell silent and tension grew in the air at Jay’s outburst. Even though they couldn’t see each other, Jake nodded with a defeated sigh. He knew better than to take heed to anything that Jay was saying right now. He was trying more so to convince himself rather than them. So he let it go. 

Though unbeknownst to any of them, you were walking up the stairs to find Jay and were made privy to his words. 

You froze at the top of the stairs.

You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop—you hadn’t even realized you could hear them until it was already too late. Until the words had already ripped through you.

I wouldn’t waste money on some peppy, desperate cheerleader.

Your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag before you even realized you were moving.

Not running—that would’ve looked desperate.

Not crying—that would’ve given him too much.

Just…packing up. Quiet, mechanical. Like you were never there in the first place.

You could still hear them upstairs, muffled and awkward now, but you tuned it all out, your heart pounding in your ears as you shoved your laptop, charger, coloring books, pencils, markers into your tote. Your jacket slipped on and the sweats he gave you now folded neatly on the couch as yours were already on.

You didn’t have a ride, but you didn’t care. You just needed to get away before you embarrassed yourself further.

The door clicked shut behind you, soft and final.

And then you were walking. Down the driveway, past the cars, past the basketball hoop, past the old street lamps humming in the early evening air. You didn’t even check your phone until you were three blocks away, until you were sure nobody was going to come after you.

Even though, deep down, you already knew he wouldn’t.

—

At first, Jay didn’t notice.

The game restarted. His headset buzzed with chatter. He wiped his palms on his own sweats and leaned back in his chair, trying to shove down the ugly feeling clawing up his throat.

“Whatever,” he muttered under his breath.

He figured you were still downstairs, maybe still napping.

And when Heeseung joked, “Damn, she’s still asleep?”

“Not sure, let me check.” He ripped the headset off without a word and jogged down the stairs, two at a time. Then made a right to the living room.

Empty.

The fort was no more, your stuff was gone, the pants he’d lent you folded beautifully on the couch. You even put their chairs used for the fort back to their original place.

It was like you had erased yourself.

Jay’s heart stuttered.

“No way,” he breathed, turning in a slow circle, like maybe he’d missed you somehow. Like maybe you were hiding. “No, no, no, no—”

He rushed to the window, throwing the curtain aside. Nothing. Street empty. No car. No you.

A cold sweat broke out across his back.

He sprinted to the door, ignoring how loud his stomping was and yanked open the front door, stepping out into the street barefoot. His eyes scanned everywhere, frantic.

But you were gone.

Gone.

And all at once, the weight of what he said—what you heard—crashed over him. The ugly words he had thrown out to save face.

To protect himself.

And he realized, sickly, that protecting himself had cost him the one thing he hadn’t even let himself want until now.

You.

—

As he went back into his house, sullen and gloomy as ever—game long forgotten. Jay went to scan the living room one more time, just hoping that you would appear. Maybe you were just pranking him, that’s something you would do.

He plopped down on the couch, looking around and sighed painfully. Covering his eyes with his hands as it took everything in him to not demolish everything in this room. 

But no, he had more self-control than that. 

Jay gathered himself, scanned the room one more time and his eyes fell on your journal. 

Jay’s eyes flicked back to your journal on the coffee table. It sat innocently there, untouched, a silent witness to everything that had just happened. His heart pounded with an unsettling mixture of guilt, curiosity, and frustration.

He had no right to open it. None at all. But as the minutes passed, the pull to understand you more—to fix this somehow—grew unbearable. His fingers twitched, itching for something to give him the answers he couldn’t seem to find on his own.

What had you been writing in there? Was it about him? Was he the villain in your story now? He sure felt like it.

With a heavy sigh, Jay leaned forward, grabbing the journal. His mind screamed at him to stop, to just put it back where it belonged, but his hands had already opened the first page.

The handwriting was neat, beautiful even, but there was an undeniable rawness to it—words that weren't meant for anyone else to read. He couldn’t stop himself. His eyes skimmed the first few lines, and something heavy settled in his chest.

“He told me I should get better at begging.”

Jay froze. His breath hitched. The words were simple, but the weight of them hit him like a punch to the gut. He didn’t even want to recall that day, but it seemed like it was all he could think of these days.

He kept reading, each line pulling him deeper into your mind. Your pain was written in stark black ink—raw, honest.

“I don’t understand why he keeps pushing me away. Every time I think we’re getting somewhere, he pulls back. But it’s like he doesn’t even care. I just don’t get it. Why does he act like I’m not worth his time? Maybe it’s because I’m used to getting attention that I just don’t know how to act when I’m dismissed?”

The words stung. Jay had never thought of himself as someone who could hurt people. But now, reading this, he realized just how much damage he’d caused without even realizing it. He wasn’t the same person he’d thought he was.

“I miss the days when I didn’t care what people thought of me. Now, it’s like every time I see him, I feel like I’m walking on eggshells, hoping he’ll look at me, talk to me, not act like I’m invisible. Am I too much? Or am I not enough?”

Jay shut his eyes for a moment, the weight of your words crushing him. He felt like he was drowning in all the things he’d never noticed, all the things he’d pushed aside in favor of hiding behind his pride.

The journal seemed endless, each entry within the last few weeks about him or about things he’d never even seen. But one thing was clear: you had been hurting for far longer than he’d ever realized. You weren’t the peppy cheerleader he’d always dismissed. You were someone who had quietly endured every time he pushed you away, every time he made you feel like you weren’t worth his attention.

Beneath the shell, you were just a girl that wanted to be validated. 

Beneath the stunning, gorgeous shell of you, there was just a little girl that wasn’t told she was enough. And he hadn’t even cared enough to ask or pay more attention.

He swallowed hard, unable to continue. His fingers were trembling, the journal still open in his hands.

But there was something else, something that caught his eye. A final entry that was left today:

“I’m observing Jay today, and he’s being nice and it’s kinda freaking me out. But he’s being his typical, geeky self and watching some documentary and I’ll say it is interesting. But his home is very beautiful, very him. A part of me feels like I don’t deserve to be here. But I know that he’s been so mean to me for no good reason, but I’ve still tried to be nice. “Being mean doesn’t get you anywhere” daddy always says. So I’ve tried to be respectful, which I think I’ve done a nice job of. As much as this is just one person, I really do want him to like me. Some parts of me want to just say fuck him and that he doesn’t matter. But I also wanna fuck him so it does matter.”

Jay cracks a smile at this, but he decides to keep reading.

“Seriously though, he seems to be a great friend to the other guys. I just wish for one day where he can be good to me.”

Jay felt his breath catch in his throat. This was it. The final blow.

It wasn’t just about the laptop. It was about all the moments he’d let you down, brushed you off, all the ways he’d treated you as disposable. He had been so focused on pushing his feelings down, so convinced that he needed to guard himself, that he’d never noticed how much you were giving just to stay close to him.

And now, as he sat there, holding your journal with the weight of all his mistakes pressing down on him, he realized that he had nothing left to protect. Not anymore.

The journal slipped from his hands, landing softly on the table. Jay ran his hands through his hair, his thoughts spiraling.

Jay sat there, the weight of the journal in his lap. His fingers were still trembling, but now it wasn’t from the act of reading. It was from the shame, the sudden suffocating realization that he had done this to you. That he was the one who had been unkind, who had kept you at arm’s length while you silently endured.

A hollow feeling spread through him, worse than any disappointment or anger he’d ever known. It was the feeling of finally understanding the damage he’d caused, of realizing that he’d been blind to something so painfully obvious. He had dismissed you as just another part of his world to ignore, never once stopping to wonder why you might be so desperate for his attention.

He could still hear your voice in his head. The little things you’d said over the past few weeks, the hints he had brushed off. The way you made the effort to show kindness, even when it wasn’t reciprocated.

“Maybe it’s because I’m used to getting attention that I just don’t know how to act when I’m dismissed?” Those words echoed in his mind, and the guilt twisted harder.

He had always been caught up in his own world, too proud, too distant to even ask you how you were really doing. He was so absorbed in his own insecurities, in his self-imposed walls, that he never bothered to notice yours.

And now...now, it was too late. He had let this slip through his fingers.

The entry about him being “nice” to you hit like a punch to the gut. He could see it—you trying to make the best of a situation where he was cruel. And yet, despite everything, you still wanted him to like you.

He had seen the cracks in you, but had he ever tried to help fill them? No. He had been too wrapped up in his pride, in his need to keep distance.

With a low curse under his breath, Jay ran his hand through his hair again, standing up abruptly. He couldn’t sit here anymore. He needed to do something, anything, to stop this feeling from crushing him entirely.

But what could he do? What could he even say?

The room was too quiet. The silence hung heavy between him and everything he had just discovered. He had been the one pushing you away. He had been the one making you feel invisible.

He looked at the journal one last time. A small part of him wanted to close it, to forget about it, but the rest of him knew that was no longer an option. He couldn’t keep pretending this was someone else’s fault.

The answer was simple, but it felt impossible.

He had to apologize.

—

Jay spent the rest of the night replaying the journal entry in his head. The weight of what he’d read crushed him, but it also woke something up in him—something that had been buried beneath his pride and self-protection. He knew that he needed to change. Not for anyone else, but for you, and for himself.

The next day, he found himself standing outside your 10:30 class. It wasn’t planned. He hadn’t figured out the right words yet. He just...knew he couldn’t stay in the same place anymore. With his heart hammering, he waited for everyone to file out. His mind raced, but luckily he was tall enough to be able to see everyone, then his eyes landed on you and he hurriedly approached you. Stopping in front of you and not caring if he had bumped into other people. 

You let out a grunt at the thud that your shoulder had made with his firm chest. But you had quickly gripped your tablet that was in danger of falling, but luckily your reflexes won. You looked up to see a tall man with glasses and dark hair, oh…him. “Jay, what the fuck?” You rubbed your sensitive shoulder. Doing the sport that you do, you’re no stranger to taking a few tumbles. But his chest might as well have been made of steel.

He held up his hands in panic, “Sorry!” 

The tension in the air was thick, and Jay immediately regretted the way he’d approached you, but there was no turning back now. He could feel the rush of anxiety in his chest, but he forced himself to stand firm, his gaze locking with yours.

“I didn’t mean to...I just…” He trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence. The words he had rehearsed a thousand times in his head felt foreign now, his mouth dry, and his heart hammering.

You eyed him suspiciously, still holding your tablet close. He could see the mixture of confusion and frustration in your expression. You were trying to keep your cool, but it was obvious something was off.

“What do you want?” You asked, your voice firm, and Jay felt a pang of guilt deep in his gut. You didn’t trust him anymore—he’d made sure of that.

Jay exhaled sharply, his hands running through his hair in frustration. He could see the way you were holding yourself, trying to keep your distance. And damn it, he deserved it. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy.

“I—um…” He played with the hem of his form-fitting black long-sleeve. Trying to work up the courage to speak, or even look you in the eye. 

You sighed, “I can’t do this with you right now, I have a class in fifteen minutes and it’s all the way on the south-end of campus. If you’ll excuse me,” You said as you brushed past him.

Jay watched you step away, the gentle sound of your footsteps against the pavement echoing in his ears. His heart clenched. He had expected this—shit, he deserved it—but that didn’t make it any easier. He watched you for a moment, conflicted, as you began to walk toward the next building.

What if this was it? What if you never gave him a chance to fix anything?

The thought hit him like a punch to the chest.

Before he could stop himself, he was moving again, this time with more urgency in his steps. He hated the way his own hesitation had kept him from being the person he needed to be before. He hated how many times he had let you down.

“Wait!” Jay called out, his voice louder than before, his pulse racing in his throat.

You didn’t stop. But there was a slight pause in your stride. He saw it. He wasn’t sure if it was out of curiosity or frustration, but it was there.

He took it as a sign.

Jay quickened his pace until he was beside you again, walking beside you as you left out of the building, still unsure how to breach the gap he’d created between you two. He swallowed, trying to steady his nerves. “Look, I—I’m sorry.” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could even stop them. “I know I’ve been a jerk to you. And I know I’ve made everything worse, but I...I just need you to hear me out.”

You stopped walking, but you looked at him with complete disgust. Jay retracted a bit as he saw the look in your eye. He’d never seen you look at anyone like that ever. Unless it was a smile, laugh, or maybe a playful glare at Jake then anything else seemed like foreign terrain. He could feel the weight of your silence pressing on him, but he didn’t back off.

“I don���t expect you to forgive me. I know you don’t even want to talk to me right now,” Jay continued, feeling the frustration and desperation in his words. “But I read something I shouldn’t have. I said something I shouldn’t have. And I’m not here to make excuses. I just...I need you to know that I’m sorry for all of it. For pushing you away. For acting like you didn’t matter when you did. And I hate that I made you feel invisible.”

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t even move.

“I don’t expect anything from you,” he added quickly, his voice cracking slightly. “But I need to be better, for you...and for me. And I get it if you don’t want to talk. I know I don’t deserve it. But I just couldn’t leave without saying this.”

He reached into his backpack, shuffling through it frantically as if he were afraid you’d walk away mid sentence. Eventually, he pulls out your journal and your eyes widen at the fact that he read your own private thoughts. 

You snatch it from him, even though the damage had already been done. He read it already, but somehow you felt that holding it to your chest would magically erase the words he’d read. 

In any other case Jay would be irritated that someone had snatched something from him. But couldn’t even utter a word, he just stood there—as resigned as he could be. Nonetheless, he gestured to the book. “In case you were wondering…I bought the laptop.”

You already had an inkling, but the fact that you were getting confirmation had made your heart drop to your stomach. A knot forming there and in your throat as you were at a loss for words. You still weren’t able to speak. 

“The invoice is in there if you don’t believe me. And I gave you the math notes too.” 

Your grip on the journal tightened, but the weight of it felt unbearable in your hands. You were still reeling from the fact that he had read your private thoughts, your most personal reflections, and yet here he was—standing in front of you, holding out a piece of your life like some kind of... offering.

A slow wave of disbelief washed over you, and for a moment, you could only stare at the journal in your hands, as if hoping the pages would disappear. Or that the situation would change—just reverse itself.

Jay didn’t move. He stood there, waiting for your reaction, but the silence between you was suffocating. He had just broken something. He had crossed a line he couldn’t uncross, and you knew, deep down, that it wasn’t just about the journal. It was about everything that had led to this moment. All the little things. The moments he pulled away. The things he didn’t say. The things he didn’t care enough to notice.

You couldn’t even look at him. You didn’t want to. You weren’t sure if you could. The tension in the air was thick, like you were standing at the edge of something you weren’t ready to face yet.

The silence dragged on, and Jay shifted his weight uncomfortably. “I—uh, I wasn’t sure how to tell you all of it, but the invoice...it’s in there,” he said quietly, his voice hesitant, almost unsure. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I just wanted to help.”

Your voice came out, raw and nearly obsolete. “Why?”

He groaned as he put his head in his hands, his rings glimmering in the sunlight. “The notes, it—I’ve always liked you. This feeling I couldn’t explain—just…attraction. And one day, I was in the cafe and I overheard you speaking to your mom about you having trouble with math. I had taken the class before so I just thought giving you my notes would help. I felt bad because I couldn’t not do anything. So I just printed them out and attached your email. That’s it.”

Tears started to mist your eyes, clutching your book and tablet closer to your chest. “The laptop?”

Jay was quick to explain, “After our first session, I had hurt you really badly with that ‘begging’ comment. I still haven’t apologized to you for that and I’m sorry but, you came on the chat and you were really upset. I thought it was just my way to give back to you.” He stepped forward, putting a small distance between you. To which you were nailed right to where you stood. You were too shaken to move.

The air between you two was thick with the weight of his words, the confession, the apology—and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to let go of the journal. It felt like the only thing keeping you tethered to something solid in the storm that had suddenly engulfed you.

You couldn’t speak for a long time, your throat tight, your chest aching with the conflicting emotions that swirled inside you. Jay was still standing there, his body tense, eyes searching your face as if he could find a way to undo everything he’d done.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he continued softly, his voice breaking just slightly. “I never meant to cross any lines. I thought I could make it right, but I see now... that maybe all I’ve done is make things worse.”

His words felt like a quiet admission of guilt, and for a moment, you just stood there, unable to reconcile what he was saying with the hurt that still lingered inside you. All those moments, all those interactions—you felt as though they were being rewritten in this very instant. Could you forgive him for everything that had built up to this?

You squeezed your eyes shut, taking a deep breath, and when you opened them again, you finally spoke, your voice shaky but filled with the weight of everything you had been holding back.

“Why didn’t you just...talk to me?” you asked quietly, the pain of the question evident in your tone. “Why did you have to hide behind these...gestures? Why did you think giving me things would fix everything?”

Jay flinched at your words, guilt flashing across his face. “I didn’t know how to talk to you. I thought—I thought I could do something to show you I cared without saying it. I’m not good with words. I’m not good at explaining myself, and I’ve always been good at running from things instead of facing them. But I know now that I’ve been running from this, from you. And I can’t do that anymore.”

You smile bitterly, “So you call me perky and desperate to your friends.”

He shook his head, “No, no, no—”

“Don’t try to deny it, I heard you. You said ‘I wouldn’t waste money on some peppy, desperate cheerleader.’ That came out of your mouth, Jay.” You looked away from him. 

“I’m not trying to deny it. I did say that—I was—” He sighed, closing his eyes to get a hold of himself. “The guys kept bothering me about the laptop and I just wanted them to st—”

You laughed bitterly, this sent something through you. “So a simple ‘I didn’t do it’ would have sufficed. But no, you always have to go for the jugular don’t you?”

“Please, I didn’t—”

You held up your hand, “No, Jay. If you wanted to keep it a secret then that’s fine, it doesn’t make me a fucking difference. But not at my expense.” You slowly back up, “Since you read my fucking journal, I guess there’s no secrets so I don’t have anything to hide anymore. But I’m so done with getting you to like me. I will not be weighed down by this anymore and it’s not even your fault. It’s me, I won’t hold you accountable for my insecurities but I will be damned if I let any man make me feel like I’m not the baddest bitch walking.” You ball your fist that settled on your journal in your hand. “I’ll finish the project with what I have, I’ll leave you alone. You don’t have to worry about me anymore, Jay.” 

The words hit Jay like a punch to the gut. Each one cut deeper than he could have anticipated, and his stomach twisted with regret. He opened his mouth to respond, but every time he tried to speak, his words stuck. There was no defense, no justification that could make this right. He had hurt you, plain and simple.

You were fierce, no denying that. Your words were sharp, but they weren’t meant to tear him apart—no, they were meant to protect yourself. And Jay knew it. He had pushed you to this point.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. But even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t enough. It couldn’t undo what he’d done, couldn’t erase the damage.

But you weren’t waiting for his apologies anymore. You were standing there, eyes fierce, jaw set, making it clear that you were done.

“Goodbye, Jay.” Your voice was steady now, cold even, and the finality in it made Jay’s chest tighten with something heavier than guilt.

You turned away from him, the journal still clutched tightly in your hand, and he stood frozen. He wanted to call after you, to beg you not to leave, but he couldn’t find the strength to move. He knew it was over. And he knew that this time, you were walking away for good.

He watched you go, each step you took like a door closing that he would never be able to open again.

And in the silence that followed, Jay realized that the worst part wasn’t the apology he hadn’t given or the damage he had done. It was the fact that he had made you feel so small, so desperate for his attention, that you had to pull away completely just to hold onto yourself.

It was his fault.

For the first time, he understood what it meant to truly lose someone.

-

part 2

Copyright: © zorange13. 2024. All rights reserved. Do not repost, copy, or distribute without permission.

[azaharinflames]

I’m a screenwriter with little trust in this show at times, but I’m too fully on the BuckTommy train to stop. So here are my thoughts about the scoff. I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for weeks and I don’t think it’s going to get more clear, so stick with me.

I think the way the scoff was delivered was meant to point towards Eddie not being straight. BUT!

If that were true then this would’ve been the clear line of thought for the rest of the scene, then in the next episode you’d see the direct repercussions of this line come up. You’d have seen it come up in Buck’s talk with Maddie. There would be even a small moment with Eddie in Texas. There would need to have been reference to Eddie being not straight at any point from 8x12 to 8x15, and (more importantly) prior to 8x11. Something there has never been in the history of 911. I’d say the closest moment was with Ana, and the panic attack. that turned into a PTSD storyline. And then the talk about dating being performative, which happened two girls (Marisol, Kim) ago. So the only canon anything that leans towards Eddie not being straight is Tommy’s scoff, that had no repercussions when it needed it in order to keep the line of plot. By now, it’s dropped. On TV, you basically need to keep the ball in the air for something like that. Once it falls, picking it up looks ridiculous because you’re banking on an audience to remember one thing from over a month earlier. Buck and Eddie went right back to their normal friendship directly after that moment with Tommy — the line was dropped.

“What about Eddie telling the priest he’s straight?” Same deal. If we saw any sort of reaction telling us otherwise, it could’ve been used to say that Eddie’s lying/repressed/whatever people are saying. But it wasn’t. So it isn’t. Or at least it shouldn’t be. Especially when I think the priest asked if he comes there often, which is a known pickup line. So Eddie’s response is a joking response to it. So this comes down to if Tim’s trying to force the audience into thinking Eddie isn’t, just by these two lines alone, but it’s not enough by far. Would be sloppy and genuinely bad writing. It could be a clear shut down just as easy as proof of anything else — and that’s not good writing. I’d lean towards shut down if I had any frame of reference for the rest of the season, but narratively it’s a shut down due to nothing to back it up.

Back to the kitchen. If someone randomly accused your best friend of not being straight, you would probably have more of a reaction. For Buck, confusion being the main one if he thought Tommy was serious. See the beginning of the scene. But Buck doesn’t question him, he doesn’t think he’s serious. Buck hesitates, reorients himself, to throw out the line about sleeping with someone he has feelings for. He sees Tommy saying that Eddie isn’t straight, not as a reveal about Eddie, but as a slight to Buck for thinking that anyone he’s around he’s going to sleep with. See the backlash from the breakup.

I’ve said it a million times, but the writers build a scene towards a joke or a moment and don’t actually care about anything else. The big hit of the scene was what Buck said about sleeping with people — which Tim said was about Buck 1.0. And probably some ass covering from the biphobia backlash. The point of the scene was that Tommy is worried about how close Buck and Eddie are, that having a guy that close means bad stuff for Tommy — the scene said that’s not true. The point of the scene with Maddie is Buck making it clear he isn’t interested in Eddie. Which either is terrible writing to set up Buddie because it would be shockingly sudden and terrible, or proof that Maddie doesn’t really know Buck all that well.

I can’t tell if the show is leaning towards Buddie, BuckTommy, or a love triangle. Because narratively it’s should be BT, it makes way more narrative sense at this point, but lack of trust says Buddie because of TM wanting shock factor and claiming these were all dropped hints. But if they were dropped anything, they were dropped ploy lines.

This probably made no freaking sense at all, but yeah.

TLDR: If the scoff was supposed to mean gay Eddie then they wrote the entire season wrong. Much more likely the scoff was used solely to get to Buck’s line about not sleeping with everyone. Which was the hit of the scene. The writers play hopscotch in their scenes, as long as they hit what they want to they fill it all in with other stuff. They wanted competition and they wanted the end, the middle stuff didn’t matter, because if it did, we would’ve seen it. Which we didn’t. So Buck and Tommy should be safe and back together soon if the show follows their own narrative, but wtf knows anymore

I’m a firm believer that the scoff was not meant to be anything that indicated Gay Eddie. Even Oliver said in an interview he didn’t think Tommy scoffed because he didn’t think Eddie was straight.

I’ve said it before - Tommy reacts that way because Buck is not answering that question. I’ll use the same example I used back then. If I were to be asked if I wanted pasta a la carbonara for lunch, but my answer was that I am a vegetarian… would I be answering the question? not really, right? Because even when I don’t eat meat, I could want pasta a la carbonara. The only thing stopping me is my dietary preferences.

I think Tommy saw it this way, too. Buck is not telling him he doesn’t have feelings directly; instead, he denies it by using something out of his control. Only later he also confirms he doesn’t have feelings, but it’s not exactly effective in this case. However, 811 makes a clear show of Buck not having any feelings for Eddie whilst having them for Tommy.

And it would’ve been easy to show Buck hesitating in his negative. Or not fully denying it, even. But he denies it multiple times, and makes a point to remind the audience Tommy is the man he has feelings for.

Furthermore, they could’ve done something to keep putting Eddie into their narrative, yet they purposefully didn’t. Even RG said that storyline is completely separated from his.

They are not doing a love triangle. That is something that bobs are now clinging to, but honestly? Tommy mentioning Eddie was a cheap way the show had to narrow his insecurities down and make them easier to work through, not something they did to show there is something brewing there.

Eddie has had his moments in the show, but he’s not queer, and they’ve made that abundantly clear on more than one occasion. And RG has made clear plenty of times he’s not interested in Buddie.

So. I understand being in fandom can be confusing, but this once? Yeah it’s clear the show is not going for Buddie.

But they’ve sent plenty of signs that they’re still rooting for Bucktommy.

[pin-k-ink]

for those of you who wanna know,

i know i’ve been super silent and i’ve been avoiding messages, and honestly, it’s because i’ve been dealing with a lot of shit that i just couldn’t bring myself to talk about

so here’s the deal: earlier this year, around february, my stepdad decided he wanted to move us to another city. he made me, my mom, my little brother, and my stepsister move with him. i had to quit my job because he didn’t want me driving all the way back to my old place every day and promised he’d help me find a job here (that never happened so i’m still stuck with no job, no nothing)

then came ramadan, and i was already stressed as hell. my mom kept working at her old job, getting home at like 5 pm, and i was left to deal with everything for iftar. i thought my stepsister would help me, but she was literally no help at all. she sleeps during the day and stays up all night, and every time i go to cook, she’s knocked out. she wouldn’t even clean the room we shared, and when i was cleaning the other day, i found her used tampons UNDER THE BED!! yeah that happened 🧍‍♀️

i was so fucking mad because i was doing all the cooking and cleaning for five people by myself, and she wouldn’t even wash a dish. i asked my mom to talk to my stepdad and have his daughter at least do something, but she didn’t. and the worst part is that my stepdad justified all of it by saying she’s depressed and doesn’t want to push her too hard because it might trigger her. like, ok, but what about me? i’m literally doing everything, and no one gives a shit. and i’m apparently now allowed to say that to her face because she’s older than me and because of that, i’ve to respect her

then, one night, in the middle of ramadan, my stepdad kicks me, my mom, and my little brother out of the house. just like that, in the middle of the fucking night. mind you, we weren’t even there a month. and of course, i had to leave behind most of my stuff. my clothes, my books, everything. all because i asked my stepsister to help me cook.

so now, my mom and stepdad are divorced (idk if it’s the same in every religion, but once that word is said in our religion, it’s done. no papers, no nothing), and we had nowhere to go. we drove to my aunt’s place in another city, and we’ve been stuck there since. we could barely afford to rent an apartment, and i ended up blowing through all my college savings just to survive. oh, and my stepdad changed the locks on the old house so we couldn’t even get our things back.

so yeah, that’s where i’ve been. still technically homeless, no job, no stability, and trying to figure my life out. i’m dealing with all of this, and it’s hard as fuck to focus on anything else. i haven’t even had the energy to write or do anything for the past couple of months, and that’s why i’ve been silent. i’m really sorry to all of you who’ve been waiting for updates or wondering what happened to me. i didn’t mean to disappear, but everything’s been just too much.

i’ll be back when i can. if i can. but for now, i just need to deal with all this mess. thanks to everyone who’s been patient. i really do appreciate it more than you know <3