#and the best way to change that is to understand WHY they’re doing it

[tropetember]

[Image description. Image reads “Tropetember Prompt List (Hard Mode)”, in the background, a picture of a mug placed on an open book in front of a blanket invokes a cozy feel. End id. Thanks to @supericelight​ for the image description!]

Enemies to Lovers - Character A once dated Character B’s best friend. It did NOT end well, and as a good best friend, B has hated A’s guts ever since. They never actually met A, though, and their best friend deleted all the photos the night of the breakup. None of this, of course, has anything to do with the very quiet, very traumatised, very cute neighbour who just moved in next door to B.

Mafia - Character A runs a protection racket and meets Character B, who owns a bookshop. However will Character B meet their dues?

Sickfic - Character A has a migraine. Character B drops them in an ice bath. Why would they do this? Is this attempted murder?

Retail AU - Essential Healing is a small crystal and magick shop. Character A (who does not believe in any of this) is made to work at the shop after being caught stealing.

SocMed AU - Characters A and B have been collaborating going on two years now. A’s been keeping their feelings in check, knowing B is a very private person who isn’t looking for anyone. A drunk video posted on A’s main account might change the status quo, however.

High School - Character A hates Character B. Character A hates their perfect teeth, their luscious, gorgeous hair and striking eyes. Clearly, their focus on B is borne of hatred. Right? Right?

Historical AU - Characters A and B had an affair 16 years ago. From that inter-class relationship, a child was born out of wedlock. Knowing A was unlikely to get married, A’s family took the child in and raised them like the legitimate product of a marriage that happened overseas. Now, A & B meet again at their child’s coming-of-age ceremony.

Amnesia - Character A and Character B are rivals/enemies. Character A receives a head injury and loses their memory. Does B help them, or do they take advantage?

5/3+1 - Five/three times they lose the closest person in their life, and one time they don’t.

Truth Serum - Characters A & B have escaped the Bad Guys™, but Character B has succumbed to the Truth Serum© that they were dosed with. B hasn’t been honest a day in their life, and is really reluctant to start now.

Competitor Businesses - Characters A & B own side-by-side restaurants with very similar cuisines - although each restaurant has a very different twist on the food. Naturally, an epic rivalry ensues.

Huddling For Warmth - Characters A & B are caught in a blizzard. Character A is a lizard (metaphorically or literally). How will Character B keep them warm?

Domestic - Character A teaches Character B (who has been known to burn water) how to bake cookies.

Language Barriers - Character A crash-lands into a foreign land. A group of strangers picks them up and saves them from their slowly disintegrating ship. Now A has to figure out a way to get out of here while not understanding a single word they’re being spoken to. Great.

Matchmaking - Character A is the city’s best chaperone, always making sure young people find the best match. Character B is their latest client. It’s a shame for A’s unblemished record that B seems more interested in their own pursuits than finding a partner after all.

Childhood friends - Character A has a childhood illness known as the Love Rash where every time they get a crush a rash suspiciously shaped like small hearts appears on their person. Character B is oblivious to this and thinks A could never like them back.

Break Up/Make Up - Characters A and B were in a relationship a few years ago. Out of the blue, A broke up with B. Now A’s back with a very logical explanation that doesn’t mend B’s broken heart. 

Body Swap AU - Characters A and B have fought with and against each other for years. Now, in the middle of a battle, they find themselves in each other’s bodies. Can they adapt to the other’s fighting style fast and long enough to survive, or will this spell their inevitable end?

Apocalypse AU - 15 years after the Harmony, with society in shambles and everyone scrapping by to survive, traditionally trained doctors are a dying breed. Our protagonist is the last one left in the area.

Space Opera - Character B is a Space Noble, Character A is a Courtesan. B’s parents hire A to teach them how to behave properly now that they’re of courting age. They didn’t expect B to fall in love.

De-Aging - A group of friends are hit by some kind of De-Aging ray that makes them go back to the age they were when their whole world first fell apart. What can have made Character A turn into a newborn baby of all ages, and who does Character B need to hurt to fix it?

Everybody Dies / Fix-it - After a gruesome war, Character A is the last one standing of their crew. They will do anything to get them back. A makes a deal that has them waking up in the middle of their friends, 10 years earlier. 

Wingfic - A character’s wings were forcibly clipped as a child. Write a scene that explores the ways this mutilation affects their life as an adult.

Accidental Baby Acquisition - The main character is on the run from the authorities, and encounters an abandoned baby in a trash can. Do they leave the child, or take it and run?

Mutual Pining - Characters A and B are stuck in a spaceship for two more years than the expected 2-month voyage. They spend these two years bickering and pranking each other. Once they finally manage to return home, they lose contact with each other like they’ve been wishing they could do for years. So why does it feel like there’s something big missing from their lives?

Accidental Marriage - Character A wanders into a beautiful festival and ends up on a stage. The next thing they know, they’re married to Character B - and yes. It’s legal.

Emotional Constipation - Character A is absolutely certain they’re not gay. It’s a pity Character B (who is the same gender as A) is so attractive.

Holidays & Celebrations - Character A celebrates Diwali. Character B helps them light their diyas.

Hunger Games AU - Set after the fall of the Capitol in Mockingjay, write a slice of life AU where the characters, who are residents of Panem, learn how to move forward into a new era.

FREE SPACE

Character A has to come up with 30 prompts for an unspecified fandom event. Character B ‘helps’.

Character A doesn’t believe that humans exist. Character B (a human) finds them under a tulip.

Dragon A has lost their human familiar. Dragon B has coincidentally just gained a human familiar that wandered into their den. 

Link to Tropetember Welcome Post

Link to Original Prompt List

Link to Rules & FAQ

[soleilwoo]

hi! i came from the “tbz when they’re jealous”.

what about tbz reaction when you are jealous

tbz reaction when you are jealous

[☀︎] — sangyeon. he immediately takes your feelings into consideration and would try and fix the situation in order to make sure you’re comfortable with him. he honestly prefers a healthy and sincere relationship where communication is the key, so being like this makes him do whatever he can to cut your jealous behavior.

[☀︎] — jacob. there’s a chance a he would mistake your jealousy for distrust or even being clingy, but he would come around and sympathize with you. if you react negatively he will not put up with it. he is loyal though, and would put you at ease, making sure that you were only happy and smiling.

[☀︎] — younghoon. he wouldn’t hesitate to understand, because trust, he does. lmao. honestly, he would probably feel a sense of pride and warmth to know that you care about him so much. your happiness is everything to him, and he’ll do whatever it takes to erase your bad feelings.

[☀︎] — hyunjae. it will only make him want to tease you. he finds your little jealous and grumpy face so cute that he can’t help but laugh because of it. he’d poke your pouty cheeks and prod the tip of your nose or playfully nuzzle into your neck and try to make you smile even more.

[☀︎] — juyeon. first of all, he has no idea you’re jealous. he wouldn’t necessarily understand, initially believing that there is nothing to be jealous about, therefore it shouldn’t be something you were feeling at all. it would almost seem like he was dismissing your feelings. after recognizing how truly bothered you were, he promises to be more considerate and work towards making sure you wouldn’t feel jealous anymore.

[☀︎] — kevin. he will get annoyed and assure you once that there’s nothing to be jealous about. not because he doesn’t care, he does. but for him, jealousy is the same as not trusting, so if you don’t trust him, why are you in this relationship? but for all that, he’ll still comfort you and pepper your neck and cheeks in affectionate kisses whilst humming simple “i love you’s” into your skin.

[☀︎] — new (chanhee). he would never expect for you to tell him you were jealous at all. it was something that never crossed his mind, so when it actually did happen he was a bit lost about what to do. he’ll try to console you the best way he knew how to and reassures you until you felt better towards the entire situation.

[☀︎] — q (changmin). he’d laugh initially but would cuddle up to you and try everything in his power to change your rather sour mood. he’d wrap himself around you while stroking your hair and kissing your forehead a few times. however, if jealousy was a frequent thing in your relationship with him, he would grow tired and perhaps drained from trying hard to prevent it.

[☀︎] — juhaknyeon. he would try his hardest to understand, but it would be an overall uncomfortable situation for him. of course, he would work his hardest to make sure you knew there was nothing to be jealous about, but it’s just a position he would never want to be apart of. if he experienced jealousy himself in the relationship, he would comfort you based off of his own experience.

[☀︎] — sunwoo. he would also be amused by your jealousy. seeing you all riled up would be quite the ego booster for him, a sly smirk making the corners of his lips curl. he’d pull your leg and see how long you’d react but would definitely withdraw once he saw your tolerance level declining and pull you into his arms, hugging you from behind to apologize.

[☀︎] — eric. honestly he loves that you get jealous so that he could have an excuse, if not more excuses, to cling to you, kiss you, and ramble for a long time about how much he loves you. really he’ll just make you the center of his affections. like you’ll never get jealous again, and he makes sure of that.

[curiosity-killed]

It’s always a little ironic when ~leftists online claim all conservative voters are stupid and then clearly could not pass a high school level quiz on the three branches of government

BUT on a more serious note, I do actually think it is dangerous to write off all MAGA/Trump voters as stupid. People vote for a reason. They vote for perceived power, protection, security, freedom—and they may be deceived, they may believe they’re voting for a knight in shining armor when they’re really voting in a thug, but they vote for a reason. White women didn’t vote for Trump because they’re stupid. White women voted for Trump because he represented protection and preservation of a status quo that benefits them in particular ways.

I don’t say this bc I particularly care if you insult conservatives & their shitty little bedfellows but because I think it is a dangerous and willful blindfold to pull over our eyes instead of looking at the reality that Trump wasn’t a one-off. Trump and his cronies appeal to a large swathe of the US population. They aren’t all stupid. They aren’t all just blindly voting for him without thought.

White supremacy is very much alive as an ideology and political force in the US—and the alternative to that (bc we do still live in a 2 party system) isn’t winning enough people over.

[crossbackpoke-check]

Dysprosium, Mary Soon Lee

dysprosium, AN 66, is a silvery-white rare earth metal. its name is derived from the greek dysprositos, meaning “hard to get at”, owing to the difficulty in separating and isolating this rare earth element. dysprosium is used to measure neutron flux, to fuel reactors, and to activate phosphors. terfenol-d is a magnetorestrictive alloy, meaning that it changes shape when a magnetic field is applied, and is used to manufacture underwater acoustic systems.

jason “robo” robertson, dallas stars #21 for @simmyfrobby’s nhl periodic table poems <3

[heejamas]

JUST LIKE HEAVEN ──★ ˙

꒰ ‎﹒ pairing: jay x fem!reader … ﹒ 80s au, childhood friends to lovers, brother's best friend!jay, fluff … ﹒ w/c: 21k synopsis: you never planned to fall for your brother’s best friend, jay. but the summer before college, on 1989, something shifts—between mixtapes, quiet drives, and the kind of closeness that sneaks up on you. and after a few cassette tapes and long drives, the love you never planned for starts happening. ꒰ ‎﹒ warnings: it's pretty much proofread, a few cursing and drinking 💿 % (◠﹏◠ ✿) #nowplaying: just like heaven - the cure \ read part 2 <3

your childhood home is full of memories you don’t think about much. they live in the peeling paint on the porch rails, in the creak of the floors, in the hum of the old fridge on hot afternoons. they stay quiet most of the time, until you’re older, until you come back and realize you’ve changed and the house hasn’t.

that’s when you notice jay.

he’s jungwon’s weird friend from seventh grade, with shaggy hair that falls into his eyes and those old denim jackets everyone seems to have. he drags around this beat-up backpack covered in doodles and faded patches from god knows where. your mom likes him right away, says he’s polite. your dad nods approvingly whenever jay remembers to say "thank you" after dinner. and you think he laughs way too loud whenever jungwon beats him at street fighter on the super nintendo. 

you’re fifteen. they’re thirteen, maybe fourteen. still stuck in that world where afternoons stretch out forever, filled with video games, bike rides around the block, and inside jokes you never bother to understand. you roll your eyes at them most of the time, stepping over tangled controller cords and empty soda cans on your way to do something more important, thinking they’re just kids and you’re already so much older.

jay is just jungwon’s shadow back then. wherever your brother goes, jay follows, always a step behind, a little quieter, a little more careful. it’s easy to ignore them. it’s easy to be busy with your own life, too busy dreaming about the future and flipping through college brochures you don’t even know if you want. they’re just noise in the background, a constant buzz of laughter and slamming doors and the rumble of sneakers on the stairs.

but people don’t stay the same forever.

jay starts getting taller, his voice losing the high, sharp edge it used to have. his hair gets longer, and he starts wearing beat-up converse with little drawings in sharpie on the rubber toes. sometimes you catch glimpses of him when you’re rushing past, and something about him feels different, but you’re not paying close enough attention to figure out what. you’re still too busy worrying about math tests you might fail and love stories that haven’t even started yet.

until one day, you do notice.

it’s a saturday, late september. the air is still warm, but the evenings are starting to cool down, and the house smells like dust and old wood. you come downstairs, half-distracted, looking for your walkman because you promised yourself you’d organize your tapes today. you find them sprawled out on the couch like always, controllers in their hands, eyes locked on the television screen where some new game you don't recognize is flashing bright colors. jungwon shouts something you don't catch. jay laughs, really laughs, head thrown back against the cushions, and you feel it in your chest, sudden and sharp.

he looks different when he laughs like that.

you stand there for a second longer than you mean to, walkman forgotten, and jay glances over at you. just a quick look, but he smiles a little, like he’s happy to see you. like you’re not just jungwon’s sister passing through the room. and for the first time, you smile back.

you don’t know why it catches you off guard. maybe it’s the way his hair falls into his eyes, still messy but different now, like he means it to look that way. maybe it’s the way he’s stretched out on the couch, longer, broader, the sleeves of his hoodie pushed up to his forearms, his whole body lazy and comfortable like he belongs there, like he’s always belonged. maybe it’s just the way he looks up at you when he notices you standing there, not with that clumsy, wide-eyed look little boys get around older girls, but something steadier. familiar. like he knows exactly who you are, and he’s not scared of it.

you freeze for a second, your heart knocking strangely against your ribs. because jay isn’t just jungwon’s weird friend anymore. he’s jay.

the guy who starts hanging around the kitchen more, pulling up a chair while you’re finishing math problems you don’t really understand, pretending not to watch you struggle before quietly trying to help you. the guy who steals fries off your plate like it’s no big deal, like it’s normal, like it’s always been that way. the guy who borrows your worn-out paperbacks without asking, then returns them with the pages bent and little notes scribbled in the margins that he pretends he didn’t write. the guy who teases you just enough to make you roll your eyes, nudging you with his shoulder when you’re being too serious, who always knows when to back off if you’re having a bad day. the guy who learns how you take your coffee without you ever telling him.

it’s not one big moment. it’s all the tiny ones stacked together, like old mixtapes in your drawer, like lazy car rides with the windows rolled down and some song you both half-sing along to playing too loud on the radio. it’s afternoons lying on the living room floor, arguing over which band is better, your arms barely brushing and neither of you moving away. it’s the quiet comfort of someone who’s seen you cry over dumb movies and scream at thriller ones and doesn’t seem to mind any version of you.

sometimes you catch him looking at you like he’s trying to remember the way you laugh, like he’s memorizing it just in case. sometimes you look back.

but life keeps moving, whether you’re ready for it or not. you’re seventeen, almost eighteen, and everything starts feeling too small. the house, the town, even the streets you thought you knew by heart. there are college acceptance letters taped to the fridge door, and graduation gowns thrown into the backseat of your beat-up car, and a kind of heavy goodbye already sitting inside your chest even though you haven’t left yet.

your prom is on a sticky, humid friday night. you decide not to bring a date — you tell everyone it’s because you just want to have fun with your friends, and that’s mostly true. it’s easier that way. just dancing until your legs ache, laughing until your cheeks hurt, taking blurry disposable camera photos you know you’ll look back on someday and miss, even if you don’t feel it yet.

jay is there too, somewhere in the crowd, wearing a suit jacket that doesn’t fit quite right and a tie he keeps loosening like he can’t stand it around his neck. you catch glimpses of him across the gymnasium, in flashes of strobe lights and spilled punch and bad eighties ballads crackling through the speakers. he’s laughing at something jungwon says, head tilted back the way you love, and for a second it’s easy to forget that everything’s about to change. just for a second. 

when his eyes finally find yours, it’s not a big thing. no dramatic pause, no heart-thumping moment where time slows down. just a small, familiar look, a tiny lift of his eyebrows, a barely-there tug at the corner of his mouth, like he’s saying, there you are. like he’s been looking, too.

you catch him later, leaning against the wall, looking at his shoes, looking like he’s thinking too hard about something. you walk over without really deciding to.

"having fun?" you tease, nudging his shoulder with yours.

he glances at you, the corners of his mouth pulling up into that lazy smile you’ve grown too fond of. "define fun," he says.

you laugh, and for a moment, neither of you moves. the music shifts, and the soft buzz of a slow song fades out, replaced by the upbeat strum of a guitar. just like heaven by the cure fills the room, and you feel it immediately—the energy picks up, the rhythm infectious, almost impossible to resist.

show me, show me, show me how you do that trick—the words swirl around you, playful and light, like they’ve always belonged here.

you glance around at the couples shuffling together, trying to get their feet in sync, the way everyone’s pressing close to one another, still unsure, too stiff. and then, you look back at jay.

"wanna dance?" you ask, your words light, but your heart’s racing just a little.

jay hesitates, just for a second. then he shrugs, the corners of his mouth lifting again, like it’s all the answer you need. "sure."

you’re expecting it to be awkward, the too-far-apart distance, the fumbling hands, the inevitable laughter that’ll cover the embarrassment. but it’s not like that at all. jay’s hands find your waist like it’s something he’s done a hundred times before, easy and sure, and you loop your arms loosely around his neck, feeling the warmth of him against the cool gym air. it feels... effortless. like breathing. like it’s always been this way.

his hair falls a little messier than usual over his forehead, stubbornly imperfect, like it’s just meant to be that way. his jawline’s sharper now, the angle of his face different, and his skin is warm under the harsh lights, making everything feel a little softer. there’s a crease between his eyebrows, like he’s thinking about something that’s not quite ready to be said.

you feel it before you even understand it, that pull toward him, low and steady, like a thread pulling you closer. and then he looks down, his eyes meeting yours with the kind of ease that’s new, but not. like it’s exactly what’s supposed to happen. he smiles, small and crooked, and you feel your chest tighten in a way that has nothing to do with the music.

"you’re really leaving, huh," he says quietly after a while.

you nod, your throat tight, the words stuck somewhere between your chest and your mouth. jay’s fingers press a little harder into your sides, like maybe if he holds on tight enough, he can keep you here, even for just a little longer. maybe he doesn’t want to say goodbye either.

the song keeps playing, the lyrics swirling around, “you're just like a dream…” but you don’t really hear it anymore. all you can feel is the way jay’s body moves with yours, how his forehead is just barely brushing yours now, close enough that you can count the little mark on his neck you never noticed before. 

it’s quiet, too quiet, and you wonder if he’s going to say something else, but the words get stuck. so instead, he just pulls you a little closer, his breath warm against your face. "i’m gonna miss you," he says, his voice soft, simple. it’s almost too quiet, like it’s meant just for you, like he’s trying to memorize it.

you blink up at him, the weight of the words sinking in. he’s not smiling now. he’s just looking at you like he’s holding onto the moment, like he wants to keep it in a place that’s safe, tucked away somewhere. "i’ll miss you too," you say, and it’s more honest than you meant it to be. more honest than anything you’ve said in a while.

jay’s hands tighten just a little, like he heard something more in your voice than just the words themselves. and for a second, it feels like the whole room tilts. like there’s something hanging between you, heavier than anything you’ve had to name before. you wonder if he’s going to kiss you. you wonder if you want him to. you wonder if it would change everything, or maybe just fix it.

but then, the song ends, just like that, leaving you with the fading sound of footsteps and chatter, the world rushing back in a little too suddenly. you stand there, still close, the space between you still warm, the feeling lingering like the echo of a song you don’t want to forget. someone bumps into jay’s shoulder, laughing, pulling him a little out of the moment, and just like that, the spell breaks. he steps back, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s embarrassed, like maybe he imagined it too.

"come on," he says, voice a little rough, nodding toward where jungwon is waving from across the room. "he’s probably getting into trouble without me." you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something stupid, like stay or don’t go. instead, you just smile, small and steady, and let him lead the way back into the crowd.

and even when you’re laughing at something stupid jungwon says, even when you’re posing for one last blurry photo with all your friends, even when you’re driving home with your windows down and your hair a mess and the night stretching out around you like something endless—you can still feel it. the weight of jay’s hands on your waist. and the almost of it all.

and then college happens. and it happens fast. faster than you thought it would.

you spend the first few weeks clinging to your roommate like a lifeline, getting lost on campus, pretending you’re not homesick even when you are. you go to every welcome event they offer, eat bad cafeteria food, smile too much, and drink way too much bad coffee. you start telling people where you’re from like it’s a footnote, something small and far away. you write to jungwon sometimes, mostly silly letters with inside jokes and little updates.

you write to jay too, but it’s different. it’s a slow thing, quiet. he sends you a cassette tape he’s made, filled with songs he’s discovered that semester. it feels like a part of him tucked away in the cracks of the music. each song is carefully chosen, a snapshot of his world that he’s willing to share with you. there are some songs you already know—under the milky way by the church, there’s a light that never goes out by the smiths, happy when it rains by the jesus and mary chain—but there are others that feel new, like fall on me by r.e.m., and run 2 by new order. you listen to the tape late at night, lying on your bed in your dorm room, the sound crackling a bit from the old tape player.

the music fills the space around you, and even though you're miles away, it feels like he's right there. you smile at the thought of him picking these songs out for you, the quiet way he’s trying to share himself with you through these notes hidden in melodies. it’s not much, just a tape, but it feels like something important.

you send one back, and you’re careful about it, picking songs that make sense for you, songs that represent the pieces of your world he hasn’t seen. your tape is full of the pop hits that are playing on the radio and the ones you can’t get out of your head. there’s heaven by bryan adams, heaven is a place on earth by belinda carlisle, cherish by madonna. you include hysteria by def leppard because it’s the kind of track that gets stuck in your head for days. right here waiting by richard marx because the lyrics remind you of being away. there’s even out of love by air supply, an old classic from before your time, but you love it anyway, the soft ache in the melody feeling like something you want to keep.

and, of course, you end it with just like heaven by the cure. because it reminds you of him, even if you haven’t figured it out yet.

when you listen to his tape, it’s like hearing him in each song. you start to understand the quiet parts of him a little better, and when you hear his voice on the other side of the tape, talking about how he found a new band, it makes you feel closer to him, even from so far away. but when you listen to your own tape, your music is different from his. and when he comments on it in one of his letters, saying “your songs are... nice. but i like how they’re so different from mine. it’s kind of adorable.” you can't help but laugh, because that’s exactly how it feels. a little piece of you, a little piece of him, strung together by the tapes you send back and forth, each one carrying something new, something personal.

by november, you think you’re finally getting the hang of it. you memorize the shortcuts between buildings. you figure out which vending machines still have good snacks after midnight. you write essays and go to parties and kiss a guy you meet in your creative writing class. one day he asks you to come over, you say yes. you lie on his bed, half-listening to him talk about his favorite bands, and you try to feel something. anything. but when he leans in to kiss you, all you can think about is a different laugh, a different pair of hands. and then you leave before it gets messy. but you tell yourself you’re not running away.

you tell yourself you’re doing great. you’re growing. you’re learning. you’re supposed to feel a little lost. that’s what everyone says, right?

sometimes you find yourself flipping through old photo albums when you can’t sleep. birthday parties in the backyard. summers at the lake. blurry group photos where jay is always a little off to the side, smiling like he’s in on a joke no one else knows. 

you don’t write to him as much after that. you don’t even know what you would say.

then suddenly, it’s december, and you’re coming back home for christmas. home feels smaller somehow. the rooms tighter. the streets more faded, like the whole place is holding its breath. your mom cries when she sees you, wrapping you in a hug that feels like it could last forever. your dad jokes about how you didn’t get any taller, ruffling your hair in that way he always did. jungwon hugs you, a little awkward, like he’s not sure if he should admit that he missed you.

you don’t see jay right away. you wonder if that’s on purpose. it’s funny, you think, how things feel a little different now. everything seems a little more... real. a little more complicated.

then one night, three days after you get back, jungwon says some of the guys are meeting up at the diner, the one that’s been around forever. he says you should come, and even though you don’t really want to—you're tired, you’ve got that homesick feeling lingering in your chest, like you’re not sure where you belong anymore—you let your brother drag you along.

the bell above the door rings when you step inside, a familiar sound that feels comforting and a little strange at the same time. you look around, half-expecting to see everyone as they were before, but the place feels different too. quieter, somehow. then you spot him almost immediately—jay, sitting in one of the booths by the window, his back half-turned toward the door, like he’s been keeping an eye out. the way he looks up when you walk in, it catches you off guard.

your chest tightens, but not in a bad way. it’s more like something you didn’t realize you were carrying finally settles. you hadn’t been sure what it would feel like, seeing him again after all these months—if it would be strange, or awkward, or if the distance between you would be something you could feel, like a wall that you couldn’t cross. but it’s not like that. it’s just him. and somehow, it feels like no time has passed at all.

he’s wearing a black hoodie and jeans, nothing special, but somehow it fits different now. more grown. there’s a faded concert t-shirt underneath — something from the cure or the smiths maybe, you can’t quite tell. the sleeves of his hoodie are pushed up to his elbows, revealing a silver ring on one of his fingers that you don’t remember from before. his hair’s a little longer now, falling into his eyes, messy in that effortless way, like he hasn’t thought about it at all. he looks tired, but good. familiar and new at the same time.

you stand there for a second too long, taking him in, feeling that odd mix of nostalgia and something else you can’t quite place. he catches your eye, and his smile is small but real, like it’s just another friday night, like no time has passed at all. you find yourself smiling back before you even think about it. something eases in your shoulders. you hadn’t realized how tense you were until that moment.

you make your way over to the booth, weaving through the scattered tables. jay shifts slightly to make room for you, his eyes staying on you the whole time. he doesn’t say anything, and it doesn’t feel like he needs to. it’s easy. it’s always been easy with him, even when it wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

when you slide into the seat across from him, your knees brush under the table. neither of you moves away.

the diner’s warm and a little too bright, the light reflecting off the metal and neon in that way only places like this have. outside the windows, you can see the parking lot glowing under the streetlights. you feel a little untethered, like you’re still getting used to being home again, but sitting here, with jay, makes it better somehow.

after a while, the table thins out. people start leaving, slapping each other on the back, promising to meet up again soon. jungwon gets pulled into a conversation near the door, laughing about something you don’t quite catch.

you and jay stay behind, still nursing half-empty drinks, the fries long gone, cold now, and forgotten. jay taps his fingers lightly against the side of his glass, watching the ice melt and clink together, like he’s lost in thought.

"so," he says, glancing up at you, his voice low, "how’s school?"

you shrug. "good," you say. "weird, but good."

"yeah?" he smiles, a little lopsided. "you look good."

you feel your face warm, but you don’t look away. you whisper "you too" and it’s not awkward. it’s not anything big. just two people who used to know each other better, finding their way back in small, steady steps.

he leans back in the booth, stretching his arms out over the seat. "made any weird college friends yet?"

you laugh. "too many. one of my roommates is obsessed with astrology. another one swears she’s gonna start a business selling scrunchies."

jay grins, shaking his head. "sounds like a mess."

"it is," you say, smiling. "but kind of a good one."

he taps the side of his glass again, thoughtful. "must be nice, though. being out there already."

you glance at him. "you’re almost there."

he shrugs. "still feels far sometimes. senior year’s dragging."

"any idea where you wanna go?" you ask.

he runs a hand through his hair. "thinking about it. applied a few places. nothing’s official yet."

"you’ll figure it out," you say, and you mean it.

he smiles, a little softer this time. "hope so."

for a second, you both just sit there, the sounds of the diner filling the space between you — clinking dishes, a coffee machine steaming, a group laughing a few booths over. it’s late enough that everything feels slower, quieter. easier.

"and you?" he asks. "besides making friends with astrology girls. you like it?"

you think about it for a second. "i do. it’s overwhelming sometimes, but... it’s good. i like feeling like i’m figuring myself out a little."

he nods, like he gets it. "guess that’s the point, right?"

"i guess so." you nudge his foot lightly under the table. "and you? besides hating senior year?"

he laughs. "not much to report. football’s over. classes are boring. just trying to get through it."

there’s a part of you that remembers what that felt like, that weird limbo of waiting for everything to change. you realize now how much he’s stuck between two worlds: not quite out of here, not quite moving on yet. "you’ll be fine," you say. "you’re good at landing on your feet."

he raises an eyebrow. "you think so?"

"i know so."

he leans back, looking at you like he’s trying to figure something out. then he smiles. "thanks.", he murmurs. you both fall quiet again, but it’s not heavy. it’s easy, natural, like slipping into a rhythm you didn’t even realize you missed.

christmas break passes fast. you spend most days at home, curled up on the old couch that still sags in the middle, flipping through tv channels that never seem to change. your mom keeps making hot chocolate, your dad keeps pretending not to cry during the holiday movies. jungwon drags you to the mall once or twice, but mostly you just exist. 

it’s snowing by the time christmas morning rolls around. you’re sitting by the window with your coffee, when you hear a knock at the door. you think maybe it’s one of your neighbors, but when you open it, it’s jay. standing on the porch, hands stuffed deep in his jacket pockets, snow dusting his hair.

"merry christmas," he says, a little out of breath, like maybe he ran the last block. he holds out a flat package wrapped in plain brown paper. 

you blink at him for a second, surprised, before stepping aside to let him in. "you didn’t have to."

he shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. "i wanted to."

he kicks his boots off by the door and follows you into the living room, glancing around like he’s checking if he’s interrupting something. but the house is quiet. your parents are upstairs. jungwon’s probably asleep. it’s just you. you sit down on the couch and he drops into the armchair across from you. you turn the package over in your hands, feeling the shape of it, square and thin. your heart tugs a little when you realize what it probably is.

"can i open it now?" you ask.

jay nods, looking suddenly nervous. "yeah. i mean — yeah."

you tear the paper carefully. inside is a brand new LP, look sharp! by roxette. the cover is glossy under your fingertips, all reds and blacks and bright letters. your throat tightens a little. "you said you liked them," jay says quickly. "i mean, i wasn’t sure if you had it already, but..."

you shake your head, smiling. "i don’t. i love it." he relaxes, leaning back in the chair like a weight’s been lifted off him. "wait," you say, setting the record carefully on the table. "i have something for you too."

you get up, digging around under the tree until you find the small box you tucked there last night. it’s wrapped in plain red paper, the corners a little uneven. you hand it to him before you can overthink it. jay looks at you, eyebrows raised, before tearing the paper carefully. inside, there’s a folded black t-shirt. you painted it yourself a few nights ago, hunched over your desk with fabric markers and too many crumpled up test versions. it’s simple, the bon jovi logo in white and red across the front, a little uneven if you look too close, but still clear. still yours.

he unfolds it slowly, running his fingers over the design like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch it. "no way," he says, grinning. "you made this?"

"obviously," you mutter, trying not to sound nervous. "it’s not perfect."

jay shakes his head immediately. "it’s awesome," he says. and you know he means it. he holds it up to his chest for a second, like he’s trying to picture it on, and then he just laughs, soft and real. "this is... seriously. this is the best thing anyone’s ever given me."

you duck your head, feeling your face heat up.

"i’ll wear it to school and make everyone jealous," he adds, winking.

"you better," you say, smiling into your coffee cup.

you spend the rest of the afternoon flipping through your parents' old vinyl collection, showing jay the records you used to love when you were little. you put on wham! way too loud just to annoy him. he groans dramatically but doesn’t move from his spot on the floor, and you catch him mouthing the words when he thinks you’re not looking.

outside, the snow keeps falling. inside, everything feels a little easier. like maybe being home isn’t so bad after all.

and then new year’s eve feels bigger this year. everyone keeps talking about it — the end of a decade, a fresh start, whatever that’s supposed to mean. you don’t know if you feel different yet, but there’s something in the air. maybe it’s just the cold. 

you end up at heeseung’s house with jungwon and a bunch of their friends. it’s packed by the time you get there, kids from all over town squeezed into the living room and kitchen, voices loud, music even louder. someone’s blasting "i wanna dance with somebody" by whitney houston from an old stereo. the bass rattles the windows, mixing with the sound of people laughing and shouting over each other. there’s a big homemade banner taped crooked over the fireplace that says goodbye '80s!

you recognize most of the faces. everyone’s older now, a little different, but not enough that it feels like you’re strangers. and jay finds you not long after you get there. he bumps your shoulder lightly with his when he passes, no words, just a look that makes your chest feel a little too tight for a second.

around eleven-thirty, you slip outside to breathe. the porch light is on, but the backyard is dark, covered in a thin layer of snow that crunches under your boots. the cold bites at your fingers through your jacket sleeves. you tuck your hands into your pockets, watching your breath fog up in the air. a few minutes later, the door creaks behind you. 

"figured you’d be out here," jay says, stepping onto the porch. he pulls the door shut behind him with a soft click.

you glance over your shoulder at him. "couldn’t breathe in there," you say. your voice is small in the cold.

he huffs out a laugh and leans against the railing next to you, close but not touching. his jacket is too thin for how cold it is. you want to scold him, but you don’t.

the music inside is muffled now, but you catch bits of it. "like a prayer" is playing and madonna’s voice strong and sure under all the noise. you both stare out at the yard for a while, not saying much. the snow glows faintly under the streetlights, and somewhere down the block you can hear fireworks popping early.

"weird, huh," jay says eventually. "end of the '80s."

you nod. "feels fake."

he laughs under his breath. "yeah."

you shift a little closer to him without meaning to. your arms brush lightly, and you don’t move away. neither does he. the clock inside starts ticking down. someone yells two minutes! and the whole house cheers. you don’t move.

you think about a lot of things all at once. how he’s jungwon’s best friend, how you’re supposed to be leaving again in a few days, how nothing about this is simple. you wonder if he’s thinking the same things. 

jay glances at you out of the corner of his eye. he looks nervous, but not scared. just unsure. you wonder what would happen if you leaned in just a little more. you wonder what it would feel like, kissing him here, under the freezing sky, with the decade slipping away behind you.

you feel the weight of it sitting between you, heavy and sweet. and for a second, you know he feels it too. he shifts closer and you look up at him. he’s looking at you. and you both stay like that. thinking about it. wanting it. but not moving. and then someone starts counting down inside. the voices rise, loud and clumsy. 10, 9, 8…

jay’s hand brushes yours on the railing. your fingers twitch. you almost reach for him. almost. 7, 6, 5…

you hear someone pop a bottle of champagne. laughter spills out through the walls. 4, 3, 2…

you blink up at him again, heart hammering in your chest. happy new year!

the cheers explode from inside. noisemakers screech.  jay smiles at you. small. a little sad. you smile back, even though your throat feels tight. he lifts his hand like he’s about to say something, like he’s about to do something, but then he just ruffles your hair gently, messing it up the way he used to when you were younger.

"happy new year," he says, voice rough with cold and something else you can’t name.

"happy new year," you whisper back.

he lets his hand fall to his side, standing there awkwardly for a second like he doesn’t know what to do now. you stay there with him anyway, shivering a little, watching your breath curl up into the new year, feeling the almost of it all settle quietly between you.

after a second, jay shifts closer. he slips his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side like it’s the most natural thing in the world. like he’s done it a thousand times before. you go easily, leaning into him, feeling the steady weight of him against the cold. he’s warm. real. he rests his chin lightly on the top of your head. you close your eyes for a second, breathing him in. 

"i’m gonna miss you when you leave again," he says, quiet enough that you almost don’t catch it. your heart stumbles a little.

you tilt your head just enough to look up at him. "i’m gonna miss you too," you say, and it’s the easiest truth you’ve ever told.

jay squeezes your shoulder gently, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you before you go. and you stay like that for a while, neither of you saying anything else, the cold forgotten, the noise from inside fading into the background. just the two of you, holding onto something you’re not ready to let go of yet.

and the first week of the 90s  slips away faster than you want it to. you spend most of it packing, pretending you're not already thinking about how different everything is going to feel when you leave again.

the night before you go, you’re sitting on your bed, trying to squeeze one last pair of jeans into your overstuffed duffel bag, when jungwon knocks on your door. he sticks his head in without waiting for you to answer. "hey," he says, tossing a small brown paper bag onto your bed. "jay told me to give you that."

you blink, dropping the jeans. "what is it?"

jungwon shrugs. "dunno. just said not to let you forget it." then he’s gone, disappearing down the hall like he’s late for something.

you stare at the bag for a second before picking it up. it’s folded over at the top, taped shut with a ripped piece of scotch tape. your hands are weirdly shaky when you open it. inside, there’s a beaded bracelet, tiny colorful beads strung together on a thin elastic cord. simple. clumsy. perfect. in the middle, white lettered beads spell out a word: stay.

you swallow hard, pressing your thumb over the little plastic letters. tucked under the bracelet is a note. folded up small. you unfold it carefully, smoothing it out on your knee. his handwriting is messy, a little tilted to the side.

figured you could use something to take with you.

not saying you have to. just... thought maybe it’d help.

stay safe. stay happy. stay you.

— jay

you read it twice. three times. then you tie the bracelet around your wrist, the little beads pressing into your skin. it’s light, almost weightless. but it feels like something solid you can hold onto. you don’t take it off, not even when you fall asleep that night.

the next few months pass in snapshots. you get lost on campus again. you spend late nights in the library, half-asleep over textbooks you barely understand. you go to a few bad parties. you leave early from most of them. you find a new favorite coffee shop tucked into a side street no one else seems to know about. you start a playlist called songs for when it’s too quiet and fill it with songs he would’ve hated and songs he would’ve loved.

you write to jay sometimes. he writes back sometimes.

the letters aren’t anything big. he tells you about his senior year, about helping jungwon fix up his beat-up bike, about late nights driving aimlessly around town just because there’s nothing better to do. you tell him about your professors, about getting a B+ on a paper you thought you failed, about the guy who tried to hit on you in line at the dining hall and how you pretended not to hear him.

sometimes weeks pass without a letter. sometimes it’s just a tape in the mail, no note, just a playlist scribbled in sharpie on the cover. sometimes it’s a postcard with two lines written on it and a dumb joke he probably stole from someone else. you keep all of them.

and the bracelet stays on your wrist through everything. lectures. essays. early morning walks across campus when the frost still clings to the grass. some nights, when it’s too late to call home and you miss everything more than you can say, you twist the little beads between your fingers until you fall asleep.

you don’t go back home for spring break after all. something comes up — a group project that runs long, a roommate who needs support, a week that fills up faster than you expect it to. you think about going back more than once, but every time you almost book the trip, something pulls you away again.

you write to jay sometimes. he still writes back. less often now. but when he does, you can feel the way he’s still there. still him.

in one letter, he tells you about a movie night in jungwon’s basement, where the vhs got stuck halfway through and they just ended up making popcorn and talking about dumb dreams. in another, he tells you he’s thinking about cutting his hair, but can’t decide. you tell him not to, that he wouldn’t look right without it falling in his eyes. he writes back: i’ll take that as a no then.

finals come faster than you think they will. the campus is loud, you stay up late cramming for exams, your dorm a mess of open books and laundry you keep forgetting to fold. 

you wear the bracelet every day. you don’t tell anyone where it came from.

when the last test is over, you walk across the quad, your last essay still warm from the printer in your bag. someone’s playing music from their window — here comes the sun, probably as a joke. you look up at the sky and think: i made it. you don’t cry. but something inside you softens.

a few days later, you’re packing up your dorm when a letter shows up in your mailbox. the envelope is light blue, a little smudged. your name’s written in black pen, all lowercase, like always. you know it’s from him before you even touch it. you sit on the floor to read it.

hey! i got in.

it’s not close.  didn’t think i’d actually get it, but i did. i’m happy. or i think i am. i should be. i just don’t know when i’ll be back. maybe not for a while. i’m trying not to think too hard about that part. anyway, jungwon and i graduate next week. mom’s making me take dumb photos in the backyard. hope you’re doing okay. you’re probably already done with your finals by the time you get this.

write if you want.

— jay

you read it twice. then fold it slowly and tuck it into your bag with the rest of your stuff. you sit there for a while, just staring at the wall, the air conditioner humming in the background like it's trying to say something you don’t want to hear. he got in. he’s leaving.

you should be happy for him. and you are. but your chest still aches a little. 

your train gets in a few days later. the platform’s hot, crowded. your backpack sticks to your shoulders and your legs are sore from sitting too long. you don’t care.

your mom cries again when she sees you. your dad makes the same joke about how you still haven’t grown. jungwon picks you up in his old car, which somehow still runs. he talks nonstop on the drive home, half excited, half nervous. you listen, smiling. 

you sit on your bed, staring at the ceiling. the bracelet on your wrist feels heavier now. or maybe just more real.

two days before graduation, you meet jay at the park.

you told him you would, back when you first got home, when the plans were still loose and everything felt far away. but now you’re standing by the old swings, blinking against the sunlight, waiting for him to show up, and it feels like something more than just a plan. the sky’s clear, the kind of summer blue that only shows up when school’s over and everything smells like cut grass and sunscreen. your sandals kick at the edge of the mulch. the trees rustle softly above you.

you spot him before he sees you — coming up the path from the far side of the park, hands shoved in the pockets of his shorts, t-shirt a little wrinkled, hair pushed back like he tried to make it look like he didn’t care. he’s taller than you remember. maybe not actually taller, but something about him feels bigger now. steadier.

when he finally looks up and sees you, something shifts. he speeds up, half-jogging the last few steps, and then he’s there, right in front of you. there’s a beat where you both just look at each other, not smiling yet, not talking, just looking. and then you drop your bag on the grass and step into him. he hugs you like he means it. strong, quick, all in. his arms wrap around your waist and lift you clean off the ground for a second, your toes dangling, your heart thudding in your chest. you let out a small breathless laugh, and when he sets you down again, he doesn’t let go right away.

“you’re really here,” he says quietly.

“told you i’d come,” you say, your cheek still pressed against his shoulder for a second longer before you finally step back.

you both sit under the big tree near the edge of the field, the one that’s always had a carved heart on the trunk from someone else’s story. it’s a little cooler in the shade, and you pull your knees up to your chest as jay leans back on his elbows beside you.

it’s quiet for a bit. just the sound of birds and a distant dog barking and the soft thump of a basketball somewhere on the other side of the park.

“feels kind of strange,” he says after a while, his voice low like he’s not sure if he wants you to hear it or not.

you glance over. “what does?”

he shrugs, eyes still on the sky. “this. seeing you again. after all this time.”

you nod, because you get it. it’s quiet in a different way than it used to be. a little uncertain, but not uncomfortable. “yeah,” you say. “i’ve been thinking about this since i got back.”

he turns his head slightly toward you. “yeah?”

“yeah,” you repeat. “i missed you.”

his mouth pulls into a small smile, almost shy. “i missed you too.”

you both fall quiet again. the sounds of the park fill in the space, wind through the trees, kids yelling somewhere near the basketball court, a dog barking in the distance. “so,” you say after a minute, “you’re really going.”

he nods. “yeah.”

“it’s far.”

he glances at you, then looks away again, squinting at the sky. “i know.”

“how do you feel about it?”

he exhales slowly, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “i don’t know. excited, i guess. and nervous. i keep thinking i should feel more ready than i do.”

you take a breath, letting your shoulders relax a little. “i’m happy for you.”

he looks at you again, really looks. “yeah?”

you smile. “yeah. it’s a big deal. and you deserve it.”  he doesn’t say anything right away. just nods, like maybe he’s letting himself believe it now that you’ve said it. “you’re gonna be okay,” you tell him. “even if it’s scary at first.”

he stretches his legs out in front of him and leans back on his palms. “you think?”

“i know.”

he’s quiet for a moment. then, softly, “i don’t know when i’ll be back.”

you nod. “that’s okay.”

he turns to you again. “you’ll write?”

you smile, eyes on the grass between you. “of course. you?”

“of course,” he echoes.

the wind picks up slightly, brushing the hair from your face. someone nearby is playing music from a portable radio — i’ll be over you by toto — low and scratchy. you close your eyes for a second, letting the sound wrap around you, letting the moment stay just a little longer.

you don’t talk about the fall, or what this will mean later. you just sit side by side in the summer light, the space between you quiet and full.

the graduation happens two days later. you sit between your parents, legs sticking to the metal seats. someone behind you keeps whistling every time a name is called, loud and sharp, like they don’t know how much it echoes. jungwon walks across the stage flushed and proud, his posture too straight, the kind of serious he only gets when he’s trying to act older. he doesn’t look at the crowd, just accepts his diploma and moves on, but you still catch your dad elbowing your mom like he’s proud too.

jay comes up a few names later. he steps onto the stage like he’s not thinking about it, like he just wants to get it over with. his gown is wrinkled, his shoes are scuffed, and his tassel hangs crooked over one eye. he doesn’t smile or wave. he doesn’t try to make a moment out of it. but just before he crosses to the other side, he lifts his head and glances up toward the stands. it’s brief, so quick you might’ve missed it if you weren’t already watching him. you don’t know how you’re so sure, but you know that look was for you.

after the ceremony, everything feels loud and fast. people are shouting names and hugging in clusters, parents crying in the open without shame. there are flowers, flash photos, and folding chairs being dragged across the grass. you weave through the mess until you find jungwon, still in his gown, arms full of random cards and half-squished flowers. he grins when he sees you, pulling you into a hug so tight you almost drop your camera bag. 

“you better be proud of me,” he says, like it’s a joke, but there’s something real in his voice. you laugh, and your eyes sting more than you expected.

you find jay later, after most people have already moved on to someone’s backyard for a low-key celebration. he’s standing off to the side, just past the fence, holding a soda can in one hand and tapping it lightly against his knee. when he sees you, he doesn’t wave or call you over. he just waits. and when you walk up, he says, “hey.” 

you say it back. simple. there’s a pause where neither of you seems to know what to say next. you tell him, “congrats,” and he shrugs like it doesn’t matter, like the whole thing wasn’t a big deal. 

“wasn’t that hard,” he says, but he’s smiling anyway, and the way he looks at you makes you think maybe it did mean something after all.

you can feel the weight of what’s not being said. about time, and change, and how nothing ever stays the same for long. the sun’s starting to dip behind the trees now, casting everything in that golden light that makes it all feel more nostalgic than it should. you shift your weight from one foot to the other and look down at the bracelet still snug around your wrist, the little white beads faded from wear.

summer days stretching long and hot, the kind that make time feel slower but heavier too. you're back in that rhythm you almost forgot, the one where the afternoons melt into each other and the nights smell like barbecues and cut grass.

you spend your days with the same people you always did. jungwon drives you and a few others out to the lake more than once, his car stuffed with towels and snacks and a boombox that only works if someone’s holding the antenna at the right angle. you sit on the hood of the car with your feet up, sunglasses sliding down your nose, half-listening to everyone talk over each other. the new madonna single plays somewhere in the background — “hanky panky”, the one everyone's pretending not to like but can’t stop singing. someone brought a water gun, and at some point everyone ends up soaked, even jay, who laughs harder than you’ve seen him laugh in months.

some evenings, the group heads to the movie theater in town. you all pile into the back rows, whispering during the trailers, throwing popcorn at each other. “ghost” is the big one that summer, and you sit next to jay the night you all go see it, his arm brushing yours on the armrest. when the scene with the pottery wheel comes on, someone in front of you groans loudly and says, “no one’s that romantic,” and jay leans closer, whispering, “maybe they just haven’t met the right person.” it makes your heart stumble in a way you pretend not to notice.

other days are quieter. sometimes it’s just you and jay, wandering through the video store with no real plan. the new total recall cover stares at you from the wall, and you both end up picking movies you probably won’t even watch. old horror tapes and weird indie comedies he swears are “actually kind of genius.” you walk out with two rentals and a pack of licorice, arguing about which one has the worst tagline.

you stop at the diner after, like you always do, ordering milkshakes and sitting in the same booth by the window. the waitress knows your order now, calls you “kids” even though you’re both technically grown. jay draws shapes into the condensation on his glass and talks about packing, about how he’s trying not to overthink it, how everything feels real now. you listen. you nod. you want to tell him you’ll miss him, but you don’t.

some nights, he picks you up just after dinner, without a plan. you drive around with the windows down, hair blowing into your face, music too loud — “vision of love” by mariah carey plays on the radio at least twice a week. he taps the steering wheel, humming along. sometimes you drive past the high school. sometimes you don’t go anywhere at all, just park by the edge of the woods or the empty baseball field, talking about nothing and everything until the sky turns dark and the stars start to show up one by one.

there’s a meteor shower in late july. your whole group gathers at the old soccer field with blankets and snacks and bug spray that doesn’t work. you lie next to jay, shoulders touching, and he keeps pointing out stars like he knows what he’s talking about. someone swears they saw a ufo (probably jake). someone else throws a marshmallow at them (probably sunoo). you laugh so hard you nearly cry, and when jay leans close to say something, you forget what it was because you’re too aware of how close his face is to yours.

one afternoon, in early august, you’re sitting on the back porch of his house, drinking warm lemonade and flipping through an old rolling stone magazine. there’s a photo of sinead o’connor on the cover, and a piece about how her song “nothing compares 2 u” is topping the charts. jay’s sprawled out beside you, messing with a cassette that keeps getting eaten by his walkman. the air is thick with summer, and the cicadas haven’t stopped buzzing since noon.

“i don’t think i’ve ever had a summer like this,” he says, eyes on the sky.

“what do you mean?”

he shrugs. “it just feels different. like i’m trying to remember everything while it’s still happening.”

you look at him for a second, then out at the yard. “you will,” you say. “you’re gonna remember all of it.”

he turns his head toward you, half-smiling. “even the part where i burned my arm trying to light the grill?”

“especially that part.”

you both laugh, and then you fall into silence again. a good one. the kind you don’t need to fill.

it doesn’t feel like time is running out — not yet. but sometimes you catch him looking at you like he’s trying to memorize something. and sometimes you look back.

the days keep slipping past. people start talking about back-to-school sales. the leaves don’t change yet, but the nights feel cooler. here, the biggest news is that the fair’s coming to town next weekend. someone says they’re bringing a new ride this year. someone else bets it’ll break down halfway through. you’re not sure if you care, but you still make plans to go.

because it’s still summer. and you’re still here. and so is he.

the plan comes together fast. sunghoon brings it up during a late-night drive, saying something about his family’s place by the lake. just for the weekend. just to get away before everything changes. at first, it’s a maybe. and then it’s real.

by the time friday comes around, the cars are packed with duffel bags and cheap snacks, someone brings a boom box with a whole stack of mixtapes, and sunghoon is shouting about everyone bringing their own towels “unless you want to smell like boat mildew.”

you ride up in jungwon’s car, squeezed in the backseat with jay, your knees knocking every time he shifts. about halfway through the drive, he pulls out his walkman and slides one side of his headphones off, holding it out toward you without saying anything. you take it, slipping the foam-covered speaker over one ear, the cable stretched loosely between you. you both lean against your windows, the same song playing quietly into opposite sides — “come back to me” by janet jackson, soft and slow, the kind of track that feels like warm air and something just out of reach.

the house is bigger than you expected. the trees wrap around the place in all directions, tall and green and full, and the only sound is water hitting the shore and the crunch of gravel under tires. everyone spills out of the cars at once, bags hitting the ground, someone already yelling about who gets which room. inside, it’s cozy. 

you end up sharing a room with sunoo and chaewon. heeseung takes the couch, claiming it's "closest to the snacks," and riki somehow ends up sleeping in a sleeping bag under the kitchen table on purpose. jay and jungwon share the room across the hall. the walls are thin. you hear them laughing through them the first night.

the weekend unfolds in pieces. saturday morning starts with cereal out of paper bowls and someone burning toast. everyone’s in various states of disarray, hair a mess, hoodies thrown over pajamas, socks half-on. you and jay sit on the floor near the sliding doors, plates balanced on your knees, talking about nothing while the rest of the group bickers over who left the milk out.

in the afternoon, you all head down to the lake. the water’s cold at first, but not enough to stop anyone. you jump in together, shouting and laughing, the sun sharp above you. someone finds an old inflatable tube and takes turns getting pushed around on it. jay helps you climb onto it, steadying you with both hands, his fingers wrapping around your wrists. “you got it?” he asks, and you nod, even though your heart’s racing from more than just the water.

later, while everyone else plays volleyball or naps in the sun, you and jay wander off down the shoreline. it’s quieter there, rocks under your feet and the water brushing up against the edge in soft waves. you talk about stupid things — a song he can’t get out of his head, your favorite cereal as a kid, how sunghoon’s feet are suspiciously loud when he walks. every once in a while your hands bump. he doesn’t move away. neither do you.

in the evenings, the group crowds around the living room. movies play on a tiny tv with crackly sound. the only lights come from the strings of fairy lights someone hung across the windows and the dim glow of the kitchen behind you. you sit next to jay, sometimes close enough that your knees touch, sometimes leaning just far enough that your shoulders brush. it’s subtle, but steady. like a rhythm you’ve both learned without realizing.

sunday morning is slow. the kind of slow that makes you want to freeze time. breakfast is quiet, everyone a little softer, a little sleepier. you find jay on the back deck with a mug of something warm, his feet up on the railing, staring out at the lake like it’s telling him something.

you sit next to him without saying anything. he hands you the mug without looking, and you take a sip. it’s too sweet, but good. the kind of good that only comes from something someone else made for you.

“wish we had another day,” he says eventually.

you nod, pulling your knees to your chest. “me too.”

he doesn’t look at you when he says, “this summer went fast.”

you don’t say anything, just rest your head lightly against his shoulder. he shifts just enough to let it stay there. no one says it out loud, but you all feel it, that this is the last time you’ll all be like this. the last time before dorm rooms and new cities and long-distance calls and whatever comes next.

that night, someone builds a fire in the pit out back. everyone sits around it in a loose circle, smoke curling into the night sky, music playing low from the boom box. the stars are clear, the lake still, the air cool enough that you need a hoodie. 

you and jay share one. he shrugs it off halfway through the night and drapes it around your shoulders, hands brushing your arms as he does. you want to say thank you. you want to say more. but you just sit there, leaning into him, the firelight catching the edges of his face, the warmth of his body pressed steady against yours.

no one brings up that you’re all leaving soon. but you feel it in every laugh, every shared look, every time someone lingers just a little longer before walking away.

everyone’s scattered, jake’s trying to restart the fire pit, jungwon and riki are elbow-deep in a card game that’s been going on for an hour, sunghoon’s in the kitchen burning something that’s supposed to be popcorn. there’s laughter echoing through the house, a mixtape playing low from the boom box left near the sliding door. a soft track from phil collins fills the space — “do you remember” — not loud, not even really noticed, just there.

you find jay standing at the edge of the deck, looking out at the water. his hoodie sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, and his hands rest in his pockets like he’s trying to stay grounded.

“hey,” you say quietly, walking over.

he turns, a half-smile on his face. “hey.”

you stop beside him. “want to get out of here for a minute?”

he doesn’t ask where. just nods. “yeah.”

you don’t go far, just follow a little path that wraps around the trees, leading to a small clearing with a tilted wooden bench and an open patch of sky above. it’s quieter here. the music, the voices, the laughter. all of it fades behind you.

you both sit on the ground instead of the bench, the grass cool beneath you. the stars are already out, scattered and steady, blinking softly like they’ve been waiting for someone to look up. for a while, neither of you says anything.

then jay leans back on his palms and says, “you think anyone really knows how many stars are up there?”

you snort. “don’t tell me you’re gonna start counting.”

he grins. “nah. just thinking about how small everything feels when you look up.”

“yeah,” you say. “but kind of in a good way.”

he glances at you. “you’re good at that.”

“at what?”

“saying stuff that makes things feel okay.”

you shrug. “you make it easy.”

he doesn’t respond right away, just looks at you for a second longer than usual. then he lies back in the grass, arms behind his head, eyes on the sky. you follow, lying beside him, shoulders just close enough to touch. you’re quiet again. you can feel your heart beating a little faster now, not from nerves exactly, but from the weight of the moment. it’s not heavy. it’s just full.

“can i tell you something?” he asks after a long stretch of silence, his voice quieter now, like the night asked him to soften.

you nod without thinking, even though he’s not looking at you. “of course.”

he shifts beside you, fingers brushing the grass, then stills again. “i think… part of me was scared to come on this trip.”

you turn your head, surprised. “why?”

jay exhales through his nose, not a laugh but not quite a sigh. “because i knew it’d feel like this.”

you blink, unsure what he means, your chest already tightening. “like what?”

he pauses. “like the end of something. and the start of something else. and i don’t really know what to do with this either.”

you sit up slightly, propping yourself on one hand to look at him more clearly. he doesn’t flinch from your gaze. the moonlight hits the side of his face, soft and silver, catching in the curve of his jaw, the bridge of his nose. “what’s the this you’re talking about?” you ask, even though you think you already know.

he turns toward you too, mirroring your posture, his eyes searching yours in the dark. “you.”

your breath catches before you can stop it. it’s not the word itself — it’s how he says it. quiet. careful. like he’s been holding it in for a while and finally let it slip out.

you open your mouth to respond, but the words tangle. there’s nothing neat to say. just this feeling that’s been building, moment by moment, all summer.

you don’t realize how close you are until he reaches for your hand, gently, like a question. your fingers meet his halfway, sliding together slowly. his palm is warm against yours, steady. and you think: this is it. this is what you’ve been circling around for weeks, maybe longer.

neither of you says anything. even though your heart is beating so loud you’re sure he can hear it, everything else around you is still. the trees, the sky, the hush of the lake behind the trees.

you shift closer, knees brushing, his breath close enough that you can feel it on your skin. he doesn’t move, just watches you, and there’s something in his eyes that makes you feel like you’ve never been more seen. his voice is barely above a whisper. “i’ve wanted to do this for a while.”

you don’t ask what. you already know. so you nod, slow and certain. “me too.”

you lean in at the same time, hesitant at first, like the moment might slip if you move too quickly. your nose brushes his, then his forehead leans gently against yours, and you both pause there, breathing the same air, eyes falling shut.

when you kiss, it’s not rushed. it doesn’t try to prove anything.

his lips meet yours like he’s taking his time, like he wants to make sure you feel it. not just the kiss, but everything behind it — every late night drive, every quiet look, every almost-touch. it’s warm, patient. his hand moves to your cheek, thumb brushing just under your eye. you kiss him back, slowly, like you’re learning how to do it together. your fingers curl slightly in his shirt. the kiss deepens just a little, enough to make your stomach flip, but still soft, still careful.

when you part, your faces stay close, noses touching, his forehead pressing gently into yours. your eyes open slowly, and so do his.

he smiles, not wide, not nervous. just real. “okay,” he says, like it’s the only word he can manage.

you let out a soft laugh, your breath still shaky. “okay.”

he leans in again, like he can't help it — or maybe like he doesn't want to. his mouth finds yours a second time, a little slower now, but more certain. like the first kiss answered a question, and this one is what comes after.

your hand moves to his neck, fingers brushing the edge of his hairline. he exhales softly into the kiss, like he's been holding his breath for too long. you tilt your head, just enough, and everything around you slips away. it’s just him. just this. you kiss him again and again, soft but needing it more now. and in the space between those kisses, your thoughts start to scatter.

you think about how you’re going back to college in two weeks. how this summer doesn’t get to last forever. how he’s your brother’s best friend, who would probably lose his mind if he knew about this, who’s trusted jay with more than anyone else.

you think about the way jay looked in that hoodie on the porch earlier, the way he reaches for your hand like it’s instinct, the way he always glances at you like he’s making sure you’re still with him. you think about the distance coming, the time zones, the unfamiliar dorms and roommates and classes, and how everything is about to split open into something new. and how scary that is.

but none of it feels bigger than this. 

none of it feels more important than the way he’s kissing you right now, like he means it. like he’s been meaning it for a while. like this moment belongs to you, not the future. 

you press a little closer, your hand gripping the front of his shirt, like holding onto him might freeze time. like maybe, if you stay right here, none of the hard parts will catch up yet. you kiss him like it’s the only thing that matters, because right now, it is.

and somewhere in the quiet, you can feel it from him too. not in words. not in anything he says. but in the way his fingers stay gently on your jaw, the way his breath stumbles a little every time your lips meet. in how his hand settles at the small of your back, pulling you in like he’s afraid of letting go too soon.

this isn’t just a summer crush. not for you. not for him.

and for once, you don’t try to name it. you don’t try to figure out what comes next. you just kiss him again. and he kisses you back.

the morning after feels quieter.

you wake up to the sound of zippers and muffled voices, the rustle of plastic bags and someone shuffling through the fridge. the sun is already pouring in through the windows, soft and golden, catching dust in the air like snow. the couch cushions are out of place, blankets half-folded, someone’s shoes by the door, another person brushing their teeth in a hurry. 

you sit up slowly, blinking the sleep from your eyes, your hoodie still smelling like smoke and lake water. there’s that brief moment, the one before your brain fully wakes up, where you forget what day it is, what comes next. but then it settles in, slowly and all at once: the trip is over. it’s time to go.

jay is already awake, crouched by his backpack in the hallway, rolling up a pair of socks like it matters. his hair is a mess. he’s wearing a t-shirt you’ve seen a hundred times and socks that don’t match. he glances up when he sees you, gives you a tired half-smile. not wide. just soft.

you both don’t say much. maybe there’s nothing to say yet. maybe saying anything would make it feel too real.

the car ride home is crowded. jungwon’s driving, sunoo’s in the passenger seat. the backseat is a puzzle of bags and limbs and too much heat, and you and jay are tucked into the middle of it, pressed together by necessity. you settle in, the windows cracked just enough to let in the air. you let your head rest against jay’s shoulder slowly, trying to make it seem casual, like it’s just more comfortable that way. he doesn’t move, just shifts a little so you can fit there better. his arm brushes yours, and he taps his thumb against his knee in a steady rhythm. you close your eyes, but you don’t sleep.

you’re holding back tears and you don’t even know why exactly — maybe it’s the quiet, or the closeness, or the feeling that something is slipping away. you press your face a little more into the fabric of his sleeve, pretending the sun through the window is what’s making your eyes sting. 

you think about how in two weeks you’ll be gone again. how everything’s about to stretch out — cities, time zones, semesters. you think about how this summer felt like something rare. like it shouldn’t have happened, and yet it did. and now it’s ending, and you don’t know what comes next. you don’t know when comes next.

you feel his hand rest lightly on your knee under the bags. you don’t open your eyes. you just let yourself pretend, for a few more miles, that none of it’s changing yet.

when the car pulls up in front of jay’s house, it’s abrupt, too sudden, like the day skipped ahead without permission. jungwon puts it in park and leans his head back dramatically. “finally,” he mutters. sunoo groans, stretching his arms above his head. jay moves first, shifting beside you, gathering his stuff slowly. he doesn’t say anything right away. you sit up, already feeling the cold where his body isn’t next to yours anymore.

he opens the door and climbs out, throwing his bag over his shoulder. then he turns back toward you, standing there for a second longer than necessary, like maybe he thought this would be easier. you climb out after him.

jungwon is fiddling with the radio, sunoo is yelling something about needing to pee, and the world keeps moving behind you, but jay is still. he looks at you like he’s trying to find the right thing to say and coming up empty.

he shifts his bag on his shoulder, then takes a small step closer. “so...” he starts, then trails off.

you nod. “yeah.”

he hesitates. then reaches out and pulls you in.

the hug is tight. longer than expected. his arms wrap around your back, his chin rests lightly on your shoulder. you let your eyes close. your hands grip the back of his shirt, holding on like maybe that will stop the clock.

you feel him breathe in. then out. slow and steady. like he doesn’t want to let go either. when he pulls back, he still doesn’t let go of your hand.

“let’s see each other before… we leave,” he says. his voice is quiet.

you nod, squeezing his fingers. “yeah.”

he lets go first. you step back toward the car. jay doesn’t turn until you’re almost inside. you catch one last glance of him through the open window as jungwon pulls away, hands in his pockets, hair in his eyes, standing in front of his house like he doesn’t know what to do with himself now after all that happened.

you lean your head against the window and close your eyes. you feel the bracelet on your wrist.

and you decided to visit jay that week. the sun was already dipping low when you got off your bike. the sky had turned that soft orange-pink, the kind that makes everything feel like it’s slowing down. the basement door was around the side of the house, half-hidden behind some overgrown bushes. you pushed through them, found the handle, and pulled it open. the air was cooler as you stepped down the narrow wooden stairs, careful with each step. you’d never been down here before. not once.

his room looked exactly like him. the walls were dark wood, lined with posters — the cure, bon jovi, AC/DC, the smiths — and a few polaroids tacked up with tape. his bed was unmade, blankets rumpled and half-falling off the side. one guitar case was open on the floor, the others hung neatly on the wall, each one looking like it had a story. there were cassette tapes in uneven stacks on the desk, a walkman with tangled headphones beside them, and clothes half-folded in the open suitcase on the bed.

jay was kneeling beside it, fitting a hoodie into a tight corner of the bag. he glanced over his shoulder when he heard you, his smile soft. “hey,” he said.

“hey,” you answered, stepping further in, letting the door click shut behind you.

you stood for a second, just taking it in. this space you’d never seen, that felt like it had always been waiting. you leaned your shoulder against the wall, arms crossed, watching him. “so this is where you disappear to,” you said.

he chuckled, still folding something. “yep. it’s basically a cave.”

“it’s nice,” you said quietly. “feels like you.”

he looked up at that, met your eyes for a second, then nodded once, like that meant something to him.

you didn’t really help with the packing. mostly just watched him move around, picking things up, setting them down, deciding what made the cut and what didn’t. there was something peaceful about it. the quiet rhythm of his hands, the soft music playing low from the tape deck, the occasional creak of the floor above.

“you nervous?” you asked, after a while.

he paused, then sat back. “a little,” he admitted. “i mean… yeah. i’ve never really been away from here. not like this.”

you nodded slowly. “i remember that feeling. the first time i left.”

“did it get easier?” he asked, eyes still on the bag.

“not right away,” you said. “but yeah. eventually.”

he looked up at you again, studying you like he was trying to memorize something. “you’re gonna be far,” he said. “but i’m gonna be farther.”

you tried to smile, but it felt like it caught somewhere in your chest. “i know.”

he stood, dusted his hands on his jeans, and walked over to the wall. reached up, gently took down the acoustic guitar. he turned it over in his hands like it was something fragile, something important. then he sat down on the floor and looked at you.

“can i play something for you?”

you nodded, not trusting your voice for a second.

his fingers found the strings like they always knew the way. he adjusted the strap, then looked down, brows pulled slightly together in focus. and then he started playing, slow, familiar. the first few notes hit you like a wave. “just like heaven”. you don’t say anything. you don’t have to. it was always your song — even if neither of you ever said it out loud. the one you danced to at prom. the one you kept slipping into his mixtapes, over and over again, like a quiet kind of truth.

you felt your throat tighten, your eyes sting. but you didn’t look away. he played through the intro like he’d done it a thousand times, and maybe he had, but now it sounded different. quieter. like it was just for you. the room felt smaller somehow, or maybe just closer. his voice was low, a little unsure at first, but steady.

"show me, show me, show me how you do that trick..."

his eyes flicked to yours for a second, then back down to the strings. he didn’t overdo it. didn’t try to be impressive. just played it like it meant something. like the song could hold everything neither of you had said out loud yet. you sat down slowly on the floor, right by his side, looking at him while he played.

when the last note faded, he didn’t say anything right away. neither did you. then he looked at you again, and this time he smiled, small, but full of something bigger. “that song always reminds me of you,” he said. 

your voice was quiet. “i think i’ll hear it and think of this.”

he nodded once. “good.”

you leaned in, fingers brushing lightly against his knee. he put the guitar aside and leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours for a second. the moment was soft. still. like the whole world had paused long enough to let you both catch your breath.

“i don’t want to go yet,” he whispered.

“i know,” you said. “i don’t want you to go either.”

but he was going. and you were too. and the time in between would stretch and pull and test everything you weren’t ready to name yet.

he kissed you then, slow, familiar, like it was a promise. not a goodbye.

and you kissed him back like maybe it could be both.

still, he was leaving. and you were too.

and on the day jungwon and jay left for college, the house felt too quiet. even before the sun had climbed all the way up, the morning was thick with that strange stillness that only came with goodbyes. doors opened and shut softly. drawers clicked closed. voices stayed low, like everyone was trying not to disturb something.

you helped jungwon with his last-minute packing, folding the same hoodie twice because you didn’t know what else to do with your hands. he kept making dumb jokes like he wasn’t about to leave for months, like it wasn’t the first time either of you would be on your own in a real way. your parents hovered nearby, taking turns checking his bags, giving the kind of advice that sounds rehearsed, like they’d been practicing it in their heads for days.

jay showed up a little before nine. he knocked once and let himself in, like always. he looked tired, like he hadn’t slept much, like maybe this was harder for him than he wanted to admit. jungwon lit up when he saw him, and for a second, it was just like any other morning. jay helped carry bags to the car, made fun of how jungwon packed, teased him about almost forgetting his bag of underwear. they bickered all the way down the front steps.

your mom cried when jungwon hugged her. your dad clapped him on the back, too hard, and told him to call every sunday. when it was your turn, he didn’t say anything. just pulled you into a hug and held on for a long time. you didn’t say anything either. there wasn’t much to say. you were proud. you were scared. he was still your little brother, even if he was taller than you now.

jay was the last one to say goodbye. jungwon looked at him like he wasn’t sure what to do, like they hadn’t talked about this part. jay didn’t make a joke this time. he just stepped forward and hugged him. tight. both arms. like it meant something. and maybe it did.

when the car pulled out of the driveway, you watched until it turned the corner and disappeared. your mom went back inside. your dad followed. jay stayed. he stood a few steps from the porch, his car parked at the curb.

you didn’t say anything. just walked over and stood beside him, close enough that your arms brushed. neither of you looked at the other.

“so,” he said eventually, voice low. “that’s it, huh?”

you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “yeah.” a pause. the cicadas were screaming in the trees. somewhere down the block, a sprinkler turned on. “you leaving today?” you asked.

he nodded. “wanted to catch jungwon before I did.” he paused. “and you.”

the words were simple, but something about them made your chest ache. “i go tomorrow,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

jay looked over at you then. his eyes were soft in the morning light, tired around the edges like he hadn’t slept much. maybe you hadn’t either. he smiled a little, almost sad. “come here.”

you followed him to the sidewalk, where his car sat humming faintly, engine already warm. he opened the passenger door and leaned in for a second before straightening up again, something small in his hand. a package, square and neat, wrapped in old newspaper and tied with a thin piece of string.

“what’s this?” you asked.

“something for you,” he said. “for when it feels too quiet. or too loud. or just… anything.” he offered it to you gently. “there’s a letter inside. don’t open it until i’m gone.”

you looked down at the package, then up at him. “you didn’t have to—”

“i wanted to.” 

you didn’t know what to say. the knot in your chest twisted tighter. jay shifted, one hand in his pocket. “i was gonna write this part down too,” he said. “but figured maybe i should just say it.”

your heart picked up. he was looking at you again. steady this time.

“i like you,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “i’ve liked you for a while. and i didn’t want to leave without telling you.” your breath caught. “i know it doesn’t change anything,” he added. “i’m going far. it’s not like we can just call each other all the time, or drive over. i don’t even know when i’ll be back. but i needed you to know, anyway.”

you stepped forward before you could think. “jay…”

“you don’t have to say anything,” he said quickly, almost nervous now. “i’m not asking for anything. i just—this summer meant something to me. and i hope it did to you too.”

it did. more than you could say. you reached up, one hand brushing against his jaw. “can i kiss you goodbye?”

he smiled, soft and small, and nodded once.

the kiss wasn’t rushed. it didn’t feel like a goodbye, even though it was. it felt like everything that had built up over that summer — the lake trip, the music, the stars, the slow shift from maybe to yes. he held your face gently, fingers curling behind your neck. you kissed him like you wanted to memorize it.

when you pulled away, you didn’t step back.

his forehead pressed against yours. his breath was warm against your cheek.

“guess i see you around, y/n,” he said, voice rough at the edges, like he’d swallowed something too big and hadn’t quite gotten it down.

you didn’t answer right away. you were still looking at him, like maybe if you stared hard enough, if you memorized every freckle, every line, every soft and quiet thing about him, it wouldn’t hurt as much. but it did. it hurt in that hollow way, like something was being peeled from your chest and packed away in the trunk of his car.

your throat felt tight when you finally spoke. “yeah,” you whispered. “see you.”

but it wasn’t casual, not the way you’d said those words a thousand times before, not tossed over your shoulder after a movie night, not shouted across the lawn when he left after dinner. it was the kind of see you that didn’t have a when. or a where. it was hope and ache tangled into two syllables.

he looked at you for a long moment, like he didn’t want to move either. the sun was hitting the edge of his face, casting shadows beneath his eyes, and your heart ached at how familiar he looked, and how fast he was becoming a memory.

you didn’t mean to cry. the first tear slipped out before you could stop it, trailing down your cheek, catching in the corner of your mouth. then another. you didn’t make a sound. just stood there, holding that little newspaper-wrapped box like it might keep you steady.

jay stepped forward. gently. carefully. he brushed the tear away with his thumb, his hand cupping your jaw so lightly it almost didn’t feel real. “hey,” he said, barely audible. “don’t cry.”

you tried to laugh, but it came out broken. “i’m trying.”

he shook his head, and you could see the effort it took him to keep his own eyes dry. “i wish i didn’t have to go today.”

you nodded. “i wish you didn’t either.”

he sighed, and it felt like something was collapsing inside both of you. “i’m gonna try to write. as much as i can. i know it’s slow and dumb and it’ll probably take a week just to get to you, but—”

“i’d like that,” you said quickly. 

he smiled at that. “and… if i can figure it out, maybe i could visit. maybe after midterms or something. if i save up.”

“you don’t have to promise,” you said, though your heart leapt anyway.

“i want to,” he said. “i don’t know what this is, but it matters to me. you matter to me.”

your eyes welled again, and this time he didn’t stop the tears. just let them come. held your hand like it was something precious. something he didn’t want to let go of.

“i should go,” he said eventually, so quiet it barely touched the air.

you nodded, but didn’t let go. not yet.

he leaned in, kissed your forehead, then your lips, soft, lingering. the kind of kiss that stayed with you long after it was over. when he pulled back, he touched your cheek one last time, then forced himself to step away.

you watched him open the door. slide into the driver’s seat. the car engine rumbled to life, low and steady.

he looked at you once more before pulling away. just a glance. but it held everything.

you stood there until the car disappeared down the block, the silence rushing in to fill the space he left behind. the cicadas were still buzzing. the heat was rising off the pavement. life kept going. you looked down at the package in your hands, the string digging a little deeper into your palm now. you didn’t open it. not yet.

you just stood there. and missed him already.

that night, you barely slept. the house was too quiet. your room looked too neat. jay’s gift stayed on your desk, untouched, waiting. you’d packed around it. like it was fragile. like it needed its own space. the next morning, the train station smelled like old coffee and newspaper ink.

now, the package sat on your lap as the train pulled away from the platform, and your parents grew smaller and smaller through the window until they disappeared entirely.

you didn’t cry. not then. you waited until the train curved around the hill, the town falling behind you, and then, when there was no one left to wave to, no one watching, you untied the string.

the newspaper fell away with a soft rustle. inside, a cassette tape, carefully labeled in his handwriting: for when you miss home. and beneath it, a folded piece of paper. creased, a little smudged, like he’d been holding onto it too long before giving it to you.

you opened the letter slowly.

“y/n,

i’ve never been great with words unless i’m joking around, and even then i’m kind of an idiot. but i didn’t want to leave without trying.

this summer meant something to me. you meant something to me.

i think it still doesn’t feel real. that i’m sitting on my bedroom floor right now writing this with the window open and knowing it’s the last time i’ll do this with you just down the block.

i’m not expecting anything. not really. i just didn’t want you to think any of this was a fluke. or just summer heat or timing or nostalgia or whatever. it wasn’t. i’ve liked you for a long time. i just didn’t know how to say it until now.

if this letter gets to you before the homesickness does, good. if not, then maybe it’ll at least feel like someone’s there with you for a minute.

i made the tape in my room last week. i kept thinking about that drive to the lake, how we listened to music and didn’t talk for miles. some songs that sound like how i feel when i’m with you.

i’ll write if you want me to. and maybe i’ll find a way to visit. but if not, if all this ever is is a good memory, thank you for being it.

i’ll miss you more than i can say.

— jay”

you fold the letter back up slowly, pressing the paper flat with your fingers like it might hold its shape better that way. your chest aches in that quiet, heavy way that doesn’t rise all at once, just settles there. low. constant. you hold the cassette in your hand, thumb brushing over the label. 

you rewind it. click. the tape whirs gently, and you close your eyes for a second while it rewinds, your forehead resting against the cool glass of the train window.

when the tape starts again, it opens with “pictures of you” by the cure, every word bleeding into the next like he meant for it to feel like memory. you press your headphones closer, the foam scratchy against your ears, the sound just loud enough to drown out the rest of the train.

the sky outside your window shifts while the songs pass. pink bleeding into orange, then purple, then black. you don’t notice when the train stops at smaller stations. you don’t move when other passengers get up, switch seats, pull out books. you just stay there, with the music, the letter in your bag, and the weight in your chest.

the semester starts quietly. new faces, cold hallways, shared bathrooms that never seem clean. your roommate plays ace of base too loud and always leaves her towel on your chair. you stay busy, mostly. classes, the library, the quiet corners of campus where no one talks. 

the first letter comes ten days in. his handwriting is still a little messy, like he wrote it fast, like he couldn't wait. he tells you about getting lost on his first day, about his roommate who only eats instant noodles, about how he thought of you when he saw a lake behind one of the buildings. the last line says:

i miss you like it’s a sport. i’m training for the olympics.

you laugh out loud. you write him back that night. you tell him about your weird professor, about the vending machine that only gives dr pepper, about how the cafeteria chicken always tastes like cardboard. you say:

i miss you too. i think about that night in the lake more than i probably should.

and it begins. letters back and forth, every week, sometimes more. his envelopes start showing up with little doodles in the corners. he draws your name in bubble letters, sticks tiny pressed flowers inside, once even includes a guitar pick “just in case you forget my favorite color is green.”

you tape some of the letters to your wall. you sleep with one under your pillow. when the days feel long, you reread them like prayers.

he writes about the cold, about the way the wind whistles through the cracks in his dorm window. you write about late nights in the common room, your hands always cold, your heart always a little heavy. sometimes the letters are funny, sometimes soft. sometimes they sound like promises neither of you can quite say out loud.

as november creeps in, the air gets sharper. the letters get longer.

sometimes i look for you in the crowd, even though i know you’re not here. i don’t know what that means. i just miss you, a lot.

then, one wednesday afternoon, the dorm phone rings. you almost don’t answer. but something in your chest pulls you toward it.

“hello?”

static hums, and then his voice, distant and slightly warped by the old payphone line:

“hey. it’s me.”

you freeze. the dorm fades away. someone laughs down the hall, but it’s muffled now. “jay?”

he exhales like he’s been holding his breath. “yeah. god, your voice. i missed it. you sound exactly like i remembered, but—warmer somehow.”

you sit down on the floor with your back against the wall, knees pulled up. “you’re calling from the payphone?”

“outside the student union. my fingers are turning blue, probably. but it was worth it.”

you smile into the receiver, thumb resting against the cord like it’s his hand. “you’re crazy.”

“for you, yeah. a little.” there’s a pause, comfortable and quiet. just the sound of the wind through the line, a car passing in the background, your heartbeat in your ears. “i wish i was there,” he says.

“i wish you were too.”

“i’ve been thinking about christmas,” he adds, voice a little smaller now. “about home. and... i don’t think i can make it.”

your stomach drops. “what do you mean?”

“money’s tight. really tight. i thought i could pick up extra shifts at the dining hall, but they already filled the schedule. i asked my mom if she could help, but she’s barely getting by. i’ve been doing the math over and over—bus, train, anything. i can’t swing it. not this year.”

you lean your head back against the wall, eyes stinging. “i was counting down the days to see you.”

he sighs, like he’s trying to keep something in. “i hate that this is what growing up means. working two shifts and still not getting to be where your heart wants to be.” you’re quiet for a moment, and then he adds, “i wish i could call you every day, i wish i had a cordless phone and no long distance fees and a million quarters in my pocket.”

you laugh, even though it breaks a little at the end. “i wish you were here right now.”

“you think if we both wish it hard enough, we’ll end up on the same train platform by accident?”

“sounds like a movie.”

“sounds like us,” he says. “if we were a little luckier.” the wind through the line is sharper now. he shivers audibly. “i should go before i lose feeling in my toes.”

“can you call again?”

“i’ll save up quarters. skip lunch if i have to.”

“don’t skip lunch.”

“okay, i’ll just skip half of lunch,” he says. “i miss you.”

“i miss you more.”

“that’s not possible.”

“prove it.”

he laughs again, soft and tired and full of something like love. “someday soon. not this christmas, maybe. but someday. i promise.”

you press the phone tighter to your ear like that might make it last longer. “okay. i’ll wait.”

“don’t wait too still. keep living. i want stories when we talk again.”

“you’ll get stories. all of them. i’ll write you tonight.”

“i’ll be waiting.”

the line crackles. you imagine him standing there, snow on his shoulders, one hand buried in his coat, the other holding the receiver like a lifeline.

“bye, jay.”

“bye, love.”

the line goes dead.

you sit there for a while, the dial tone humming in your ear, and then finally, finally, you hang up.

and then christmas comes like it always does. you take the long train ride back home with your walkman pressed to your ears and your bag heavy. the town looks smaller than you remember. maybe it always does since your first semester away. the streets feel frozen in time, lit by weak streetlights and lined with familiar shops. it’s strange—everything is the same, and nothing is.

but this year, you’re not the main event. jungwon comes back two days after you. it’s his first time home since he started college. your mom can barely keep it together when he walks in the door with his overstuffed duffel bag and a sleepy smile. she hugs him so tightly he winces. your dad ruffles his hair, your aunt comes by with a casserole. it’s like the prodigal son has returned, and honestly, you don’t mind. it’s good to see him. it’s good to see them see him.

he looks older. not just taller, though he is. not just the haircut, or the faint stubble he clearly hasn’t decided what to do with yet. it’s in the way he carries himself. looser. more sure. the kind of ease that comes from living somewhere new and surviving it.

you end up on the roof a few nights later, like old times. he finds the ladder first. calls to you from outside your window like you’re kids again. the stars are faint but steady. the air sharp in your lungs. you bring blankets and two mugs of whatever was warm in the kitchen.

you sit side by side, legs stretched out, silence easy between you.

“so?” you ask eventually, nudging him. “how’s it really been?”

he doesn’t answer right away. then: “it’s good. really good, actually.”

you glance over. “yeah?”

“yeah. the campus is beautiful. i got lucky with my dorm, too—my roommate’s cool. not, like, best-friend cool, but we get along. classes are hard, but... in a fun way? it’s weird, i kind of like the pressure.”

“nerd.”

he nudges you back. “i joined this music club,” he says. “nothing serious, just people who like playing stuff together. i’ve been writing again. and there’s this group that goes out on thursdays to open mic nights... i don’t always go, but when i do, it feels... i don’t know. freeing.”

you smile. “i’m glad, wonnie.”

“me too,” he says, and his voice is soft. “i missed this, though. missed home.”

“you seemed so... settled.”

“i think i am,” he says. “but it doesn’t mean i don’t think about this place. about you guys.”

the quiet stretches between you again. you sip your drink. the wind moves through the trees. then, after a pause, he speaks again—gentle, careful. “can i ask you something?”

you look over. he’s not looking at you. “yeah?”

“you and jay.”

you freeze a little. “what about us?”

“i don’t know. it’s just... you never really said anything. and neither did he. but i’m not dumb.” his voice is soft, not accusing. just curious. 

you stare at your hands, fingers curled in the edge of the blanket. “it wasn’t supposed to be a thing,” you say eventually. “it just kind of... happened. after that summer. we kept writing. and then we kept feeling things. and now it’s this... half-real, half-imagined thing that lives between semesters.”

“but it’s real to you?”

“yeah,” you whisper. “it is.”

he doesn’t say anything right away. then: “he never told me.”

“i think he didn’t know how.”

“or maybe he didn’t want to make it more complicated.”

“maybe.” you look over at him. he’s watching the sky. “are you mad?”

he shakes his head. “no. just surprised. and... maybe a little jealous?”

you blink. “of jay?”

“i'm your brother after all.” he chuckled, you followed along after a while.

“he couldn’t come home this christmas.”

“i figured. he didn’t answer when i asked.”

you glance at jungwon. “you guys often write each other?”

“yeah,” he says. “not super often. but he sends me these long letters when he can.”

you smile at the image. “does he ever talk about me?”

he hesitates for a moment, then nods. “not directly. not like, in big declarations or whatever. but you’re always there. in between the lines. like... he’ll say something about music he’s been listening to, and it’s a song you used to love. or mention some movie and how ‘y/n would’ve hated it.’ that kind of thing.”

you feel something tighten behind your ribs. “so he never said anything?”

“no,” jungwon says, quiet. “but i could tell. i mean, i’m not dumb. i knew something was going on. i just didn’t know what, exactly.” he leans back on his hands, looks up at the stars. “but then i started thinking,” jungwon goes on. “if he was gonna care about someone like that, i’m glad it’s you.”

your eyes sting a little. you smile at that. “do you miss him?”

“of course,” he says, then looks at you. “but i think you do more.” you don’t say anything. he doesn't press. after a while, the wind picks up. your fingers are cold, your mugs are empty. jungwon glances sideways at you. “we should go in before mom wakes up and accuses us of catching pneumonia.”

you snort. “she’s probably already awake.”

“probably.”

he gets up first, offers you a hand. you take it. when you both climb back in through the window, the house is still quiet. warm. familiar. but something in your chest feels a little different. like the ache is still there, but softer. held.

the holidays pass in the quiet rhythm of home. 

you help wrap gifts at the kitchen table with leftover paper from last year—half of them with the name “jungwon” in curly, looping letters. he's the center of the season this time. it’s his first time back since starting college, and your parents cling to him like they’re making up for lost time. your mom tears up over his favorite soup. your dad takes pictures with the chunky kodak camera he barely remembers how to use.

you don’t mind. not really. it's good to see him like this—full of stories, confident in ways he wasn’t before. he talks about dorm parties, about sleeping through 8 a.m. lectures, about running into a professor at a bar once and pretending not to notice. he even joined a rec basketball team. you listen, smiling, even when your chest aches a little with the difference.

new year’s eve arrives with less celebration than usual. your parents are asleep by eleven. jungwon watches back to the future part iii on VHS in the living room. you sit with him on the floor, both of you wrapped in old quilts, sipping ginger ale from mismatched mugs. when midnight hits, you both yell “happy new year” more out of obligation than excitement. there are no fireworks, just distant shouts from a few blocks away. 

you think of jay. wonder if he’s somewhere with people, or alone. wonder if he thought of calling. wonder if he stopped himself.

you go back to campus in early january.

the train is colder this time. more grey. you keep your headphones in and stare at the frost on the window. roxy music, the cure… the soundtrack of trying not to feel too much.

when you get back to your dorm, your roommate’s side is already full of unpacked clothes and christmas candy. your side is neater, more sparse. you pin up a few new photos. unpack slowly. tuck your homesickness into corners and drawers.

classes start again. second year feels heavier than the first. the professors are stricter, less patient. you drink more coffee. underline more passages. your handwriting gets messier.

jay’s letters still come, but they’re different now. shorter. the envelopes are still addressed with care, your name underlined twice like always. in one letter, he writes about a band he’s joined—some guys in his dorm who needed a rhythm guitarist. he says they play mostly pixies and stone roses covers, sometimes in the campus bar, sometimes in someone’s garage. he says it’s loud and messy and it makes him feel like he can breathe again.

he doesn’t mention missing christmas. he doesn’t say anything about not calling. he signs off with a song lyric, like he always does. this time: “heaven knows i’m miserable now.” you smile anyway.

as the months pass, the letters come slower. once a week becomes twice a month. then sometimes just one, slipped into your mailbox late and slightly rain-stained. but they’re still his. still full of little details—what he’s reading, the weird dreams he had, the girl in his english class who always talks about astrology.

february comes. then march. and suddenly the snow is melting again. your hair is longer. you’ve started carrying a walkman everywhere. your favorite café replaced the jukebox with a cheap stereo that mostly plays madonna and paul simon. the world is moving forward, spinning fast, pulling you along with it.

but some days, when the sun hits just right, and you hear a guitar riff through a half-open dorm window, you think of him. of that fall. of letters. of train rides. of the silence that still holds you both, gently. and you wait. because you know—somewhere—he’s waiting, too.

it’s a saturday afternoon in april, and spring has finally, finally started to show its face.

you’re sitting beneath the cherry tree near the east edge of campus, the one that blooms a little earlier than the others, the one that looks like it’s holding secrets in every petal. sunlight slips through the branches in soft waves, dancing across the open pages of your book. there’s a coffee cup balanced carefully in the grass beside you, the sleeve still warm.

you’ve been there for over an hour. the world feels far away. it’s the kind of quiet that’s not empty, but full of wind in the leaves, of the occasional rustle of a student passing behind you, of the soft, steady hum of a saturday moving forward without urgency.

you turn a page, and then someone sits down beside you. you don’t look up right away. the book’s getting good again. but then you notice the shift in weight. the familiar way your skin prickles. the scent of something: clean laundry, faint cologne, and something you haven’t smelled in months but recognize instantly.

you turn. and it’s him. jay.

he’s right there, in front of you. close enough to touch. you don’t think. you don’t even say anything. you just launch yourself at him.

your book flies into the grass. your coffee nearly spills. your arms wrap around him tight, your face buried in his neck before your brain can even catch up. he laughs, breathless, a little startled but not pulling away. his arms close around you, firm and warm and shaking just a little.

“holy shit,” you whisper, your voice muffled in his hoodie. “holy shit, you’re here.”

“yeah,” he says, holding you tighter. “i’m here.”

you pull back just enough to look at him, still holding his shoulders like you’re making sure he’s real. his hair’s longer, shaggier than you remember. his face is a little thinner. his eyes are tired but bright. “how—what—” you start, then blink hard. “how did you know i’d be here?”

he smiles, soft, almost shy. “one of your letters,” he says. “you mentioned this tree. said you always came here saturday afternoons to read. so... i did the math.”

your heart does something strange in your chest. like falling and flying at the same time. “you remembered that?”

“of course i remembered that.”

you turn toward him fully, knees folding underneath you. “what—” your voice cracks, so you try again. “what are you doing here?”

he tilts his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “i wanted to surprise you.”

your mouth opens and closes once. “you did.”

he laughs gently, rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah. i figured.”

you take him in more slowly now, in full color. the soft mess of his hair, pushed back like he’s run his fingers through it a dozen times today. the curve of his mouth, familiar and brand new all at once. the hoodie you’ve seen in polaroids, now in front of you. the pin on his strap — the smiths, still. his shoelaces are untied.

“so you just... showed up?” you ask.

“not just.” he glances down at the grass. “i’ve had this planned for a few weeks. it’s spring break at my school.”

you blink. “you’re spending your break here?”

“yeah.”

“with me?”

he lifts a shoulder, casual in the way he never really is when it comes to you. “yeah. if you want me to be.”

your heart stumbles. “why didn’t you go home?”

“my parents came to visit me last month. brought homemade food, checked if i was sleeping enough. we did the whole thing.” he pauses. “so this time... i wanted to come see you. you were the priority.”

your throat goes tight. painfully tight. you stare at him. “that’s—”

“cheesy?”

“kind of.”

he grins. “but true.”

you blink fast, trying to keep your voice from wobbling. “i can’t believe you’re here.”

he nudges you with his shoulder, gently, and for a moment, everything around you seems to fade. the campus sounds, the other students walking by, the breeze rustling through the cherry blossoms, they all blur into the background. it’s just the two of you, sitting here in a moment that feels impossibly perfect.

“well. i am,” he says again, this time his voice lower, quieter. he’s watching you now, really watching you, like he’s trying to memorize the way you look in this light, the way you sound when you speak so softly, the way your eyes flicker with something unspoken. your heart thuds in your chest, and you swallow. the world feels like it’s holding its breath too, waiting for something. waiting for us, you think, and before you can stop it, the words spill out in a whisper:

“i’ve missed you so much.”

he looks at you for a moment, something in his eyes shifting. then, without warning, he’s leaning in, closing the space between you. his hand, warm and gentle, finds its way to your cheek, and your breath hitches at the contact. his touch is familiar and new, like coming home but also like discovering something thrilling and unknown all at once.

you don’t even realize you’ve closed your eyes until you feel him so close, his breath mingling with yours, his lips almost brushing your skin. you can feel the thrum of your pulse in your throat, the way the air feels thick between you, charged with everything unspoken, everything you’ve been holding on to for so long. 

his lips, when they finally meet yours, are soft and hesitant at first, like he’s testing the waters, unsure if you’ll pull away or if you’ll let him stay. and when you don’t—when you lean into him, your hands trembling as they rest against his chest, your lips responding with a quiet urgency—it’s like something clicks into place, something that had been waiting all along, just beneath the surface. his kiss deepens, letting you both catch up to the months that have slipped by, all the letters and all the silences. his fingers tangle gently in your hair, tugging you closer, and you lose yourself in the feeling of him—his warmth, his presence, his everything. it’s like coming home, but it’s also like a brand new beginning.

when you finally pull back, breathless and flushed, you don’t open your eyes right away. you stay there, just for a moment, feeling the soft brush of his nose against yours, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest. there’s a peacefulness to it now, something that wasn’t there before, something that feels right in the way the world has fallen away.

for a few minutes, neither of you says anything. the silence between you is comfortable, filled with everything that’s unsaid but understood. and then, just when you think you can’t feel any more overwhelmed by the weight of it all, he pulls back a little, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw.

“you’re... real,” he murmurs, as if it’s just occurred to him. “this whole thing... you’re really here.”

you smile, a little breathless, still floating in the aftershock of the kiss. “i could say the same about you.”

he shakes his head softly, his eyes full of wonder. “no. i mean... i really missed you. i’ve been... so stupid not to just come here sooner.”

“it’s okay,” you say, gently. “you’re here now. that’s all that matters.”

he smiles, a little sheepish, and you can’t help but lean in for another kiss, slow this time, just a soft press of lips as if to say everything you haven’t yet. he kisses you back just as gently, and for a moment, you feel like you’ve finally found the place where you both belong, tucked away under the cherry blossoms, where time feels endless and the rest of the world doesn’t matter.

that week unfolds like a secret you get to keep.

spring break in 1991 feels like borrowed light—just warm enough for jackets to hang open, just cool enough for coffee to still feel necessary. the campus empties a little more each day, the sidewalks quieter, the dorms thinner with sound, and you and jay exist inside it like the only ones left.

you meet him every morning at the little café just off campus. he always gets the same thing: black coffee, extra strong, and a cinnamon roll if they haven’t sold out by ten. you try something new each day, let him steal bites, press your knees together under the table when no one’s looking. he watches you talk with his chin propped on his palm, like you’re something out of a song he’s only now learning the words to.

you walk everywhere. to the used bookstore with the creaky wood floors and the cat that sleeps in the poetry section. to the park with the duck pond, where you both pretend not to care that your hands brush more than once. to the laundromat even, where you sit on top of the machines with a bag of shared chips, watching the clothes tumble, talking about nothing and everything.

one afternoon, you take him to the record store a few blocks away. the bell above the door jingles when you enter. he goes quiet in that way he does when he’s really happy, thumbing through crates like he’s handling treasure. you wander into the second-hand tapes, until you feel his hand slip into yours.

“you’re wearing it,” he says.

you look down. the braided thread bracelet he made you is snug around your wrist, a little frayed from time.

“of course,” you say, like it’s obvious.

he smiles, and it’s soft in a way you almost never see. “i didn’t think you still would.”

you roll your eyes. “you underestimate me.”

“no,” he says. “i think i just miss a lot of you.”

you find a dusty smiths vinyl in the back corner. he insists on buying it, even though you argue it’s too expensive for a college student who already works two jobs. he tells you you’re worth overpriced music and more.

you listen to it later in your room, the both of you stretched out on your bed, sharing a single pillow. you press your foreheads together and try not to think about how fast the week is going. you trace the freckles on his arms like constellations and wonder how long you’ll get to keep this version of him—warm, present, real.

some nights you stay out late, sitting under the cherry tree, shoulders pressed close in the quiet dark. other nights, you fall asleep in the common room watching movies from the campus video library, wrapped in the same scratchy blanket, popcorn spilled everywhere.

you don’t talk about what you are, not exactly. but he always finds your hand first. he always walks on the side of the sidewalk closest to the street. he kisses your forehead like a promise.

and every day, you feel it more: this thing between you, still unnamed, but steady. something building. something real.

one night, you lie on the floor of your dorm room, your legs tangled, his head resting on your chest. you read aloud from your book until your voice gets soft and slow. when you pause, he murmurs, “don’t stop,” like he’s afraid silence will mean goodbye. you read until you can’t keep your eyes open, and when you wake up the next morning, his hand is still in yours.

the day before he’s supposed to leave, you take him to the park. you take him deeper in, where the trees open into a wide clearing and the lake stretches out like glass, catching pieces of the sky. you brought a blanket in your tote bag, and you spread it over the grass with shaking hands, not from nerves, but from how full your chest feels just having him beside you again.

he whistles low when he sees the view. “you’ve been keeping this place a secret from me?”

you smile, sitting cross-legged on the blanket. “figured i needed to impress you with something.”

he grins as he drops down beside you, close enough that your knees touch. “mission accomplished.”

you both fall quiet, watching the sun glint on the water, the way the wind ripples across it like someone brushing their hand over silk. 

“you remember,” he says, eyes on the lake, “the first time we kissed?”

you look at him. he’s got that look on his face—the one he gets when he’s remembering something that still stings a little. “of course i do.”

he laughs softly, and there’s color rising in his cheeks. “god, i was such a mess that day. i think i was sweating through my shirt.”

“you were,” you say, biting back a grin. “you looked like you were gonna faint.”

“i almost did.”

you lean your head on his shoulder. “you still kissed me, though.”

“yeah,” he says, quieter now. “best decision i ever made.”

for a while, you just sit like that, shoulder to shoulder, listening to the wind in the trees and the distant sounds of kids playing somewhere far off. 

“i wanted to tell you something,” he says eventually, shifting slightly so he can see you better. “about the band.” you straighten a little, curious. “we’re gonna start playing more. not just on campus, but local shows. house parties, bars, that kind of thing. one of the member’s cousin knows a guy who books gigs.”

“jay,” you say, your voice light but sincere, “that’s amazing.”

he shrugs like it’s nothing, but his smile gives him away. “we’re getting paid too. not a ton, but enough to cover meals, gas, maybe even some rent if we play enough.”

“i’m proud of you,” you say, and you mean it. “i always knew you’d do something with that music.”

he turns to you again, his eyes soft. “we’re playing in two weekends. it’s a friday night set, off-campus, but not far. if you came... i’d really like that.”

“i’ll try,” you say. “really. i will.”

“you’d probably hate the crowd,” he says. “everyone’s a little drunk and way too into themselves.”

“i don’t care about the crowd,” you say. “i’d be there for you.”

he smiles again, but this time it fades a little faster, like something heavier is sitting behind it.

“i’ve been thinking,” he says, slower now. “about us.” 

you nod. you’ve been thinking about it too. every day since he got here. every letter, every night you read them under your sheets like prayers. “i don’t want to hold you back,” he says. “i mean it. i don’t ever want you to feel like you have to wait around for me.”

your chest tightens, but you don’t look away. “i never felt like i had to,” you say. “i wanted to.”

he exhales, eyes flicking to the ground. “it’s hard, being far. i hate not knowing when i’ll see you next, if your letters are gonna come this week, if you’re okay.”

“it is hard,” you say. “but not harder than not having you in my life.”

that gets him.

he looks up at you, and his eyes are full, like he’s carrying the weight of something he’s been holding back for too long. but they’re steady too. there’s no hesitation in them. no fear. just the quiet conviction of someone who has finally found the right words and the right moment to say them.

“i love you,” he says.

not softly. not tucked behind nervous laughter or hidden in a passing joke. he says it plainly, like it’s always been true. like it’s not a question or a gamble, but a fact of who he is.

you go still. not because you didn’t want to hear it, but because you did. you’d been dreaming about hearing it. you’d written it in letters you never sent. whispered it to your pillow on nights the silence felt too loud. but now that it’s real, that it’s here between you, it takes your breath away.

your heart is beating too hard. your chest feels tight in the best and worst way. it’s like you’re floating and anchored all at once.

“i love you too,” you say.

the words fall out soft, but certain. no tremble. no second-guessing. it feels like unlocking something that’s been waiting inside you for months. and he smiles. not his usual grin. this one is slower, quieter. full of something tender and wrecked and entirely sincere. he lets out a shaky breath, like hearing it back made something loosen in his chest.

he reaches for your hand, threads his fingers through yours, and holds on like he’s scared you might disappear.

“i didn’t know if i should say it,” he admits, voice low. “i didn’t want to make this harder.”

you shake your head, blinking fast again. “you didn’t.”

he watches you, eyes glinting in the light fading over the lake. “i know we don’t have answers yet. i know we’re not in the same place. but i love you, and i don’t want to pretend i don’t. not anymore.”

you nod, and your throat feels too tight for a second to speak. but then you do. “thank you for saying it.”

he presses his forehead to yours, and you close your eyes. the wind brushes over your cheeks. “i want to do this right,” he whispers. “i want to keep showing up. even when it’s messy. even when we’re apart. i’ll write, i’ll call—whatever it takes. i just want you to know that i’m yours.”

you feel like crying again, but it’s the good kind. the overwhelming, grateful kind. “you already are,” you whisper back.

he kisses you then. slow and certain, like he’s been waiting to show you just how much he meant every word. you kiss him back with everything you have. every letter you never sent. every weekend you spent missing him. and for a little while, it feels like you’re in the exact right place, with the exact right person, and the rest can wait.

because now you know. and now he knows. and for now, that’s everything.

the sky is gray when you wake up. not stormy, just still. the apartment is quiet except for the soft hum of the radiator. you make coffee without asking, and toast because it's simple. neither of you says much while you move around the kitchen. it's not awkward. it's just early, and this kind of morning carries its own language. when you finally sit down across from him, he offers a small smile and reaches for your hand across the table. his thumb brushes over your knuckles like he's grounding himself there. you want to ask him to stay, just one more day, but you know how it works. time doesn't pause just because you want it to.

“thank you,” he says, voice low. “for everything. for this week.”

you nod, not trusting yourself to say much more. “me too.”

you finish breakfast slowly, letting the minutes stretch. when it’s time to go, you both move a little slower than usual. jackets, shoes, keys—everything done with quiet care. on the walk to the train station, the streets are calm. a few shops are just opening. jay looks at all of it like he’s trying to take a piece of the city with him.

at the station, the platform is mostly empty. his train isn’t there yet. he sets his bag down and turns to you, both hands in his pockets, like he’s unsure of what to do with them. you take one of them in yours. “i’ll write,” he says quietly, steady.

you nod, trying not to let it show on your face, how much you want him to keep that promise. “you better,” you say, your voice soft but certain.

he smiles, and this time it reaches his eyes in a way that makes your chest tighten. there’s something steady in him, something quiet and real, like he’s trying to memorize your face without making it obvious. then he steps forward and pulls you into a hug. his arms fold around your back, warm and familiar, and you press your face into the space between his shoulder and his neck. you close your eyes. breathe in. it still smells like his soap and the coffee you shared earlier and something that’s just him.

it isn’t a desperate hug. it’s not rushed or falling apart. it’s slow, like neither of you wants to risk breaking whatever this is. he doesn’t hold you too tightly, and you don’t cling, maybe because you both know that if you do, it might unravel you. instead, you just stand there, holding each other like you’re saying something that can’t be said out loud.

when he finally pulls back, he looks at you for a second longer. his eyes move over your face like he’s trying to remember it exactly—every freckle, every line, every part that makes you, you. then he leans in and kisses your cheek, warm and slow, and you think that might be enough. but then he hesitates, just a beat, and his eyes flick to yours, asking without words. and you answer by closing the distance.

he kisses you, soft and steady. not rushed, not messy, just something quiet and sure. it feels like something you’ve been holding in for too long, and now that it’s here, neither of you pulls away too fast. you hold his jacket in your hands and try not to think about how long it might be before you get to do this again. his hands settle at your waist, his thumbs brushing the hem of your sweater. for a few seconds, the station disappears.

when the kiss breaks, your foreheads stay pressed together. both of you quiet. both of you trying to hold the moment still.

the train pulls into the station with a low sound, wheels scraping gently against the track. you both glance at it, then at each other again. he gives your hand one last squeeze before picking up his bag. the straps are worn, one of the buckles is broken, and you think about how far that bag has already traveled. 

“you should go,” you say, finally, your voice low. he nods, but he doesn’t move yet. just gives you one last look, and it holds more than words could.

“take care of yourself, okay?” he says. you nod. “and write to me. even if i’m slow sometimes.”

“i always do,” you say.

this time, you do say goodbye. both of you.

“bye, jay.”

“bye, love,” he says, just as soft.

jay walks toward the train with slow steps, one hand gripping the strap of his bag, the other shoved in his pocket like he’s not sure what to do with it. you stay where you are, not trusting yourself to move. your fingers are clenched around the edge of your sweater, the morning air crisp and dry around you, the sound of the platform soft and distant.

he doesn’t look back right away. just keeps going until he reaches the open door, and then he pauses, just for a second, and turns. your eyes meet. he doesn’t smile this time, doesn’t say anything, but the look is enough. it holds everything neither of you could say, everything you might’ve said if there were more time.

he steps onto the train. you watch him through the window as he walks down the aisle and finds a seat near the middle. he sets his bag down carefully, then turns to face you again. he presses his hand to the glass, palm open. you do the same. for a second, it feels like you're right there with him.

the train jolts once, then starts to move. slow at first. you walk alongside it for a few steps, matching its pace, not ready to let go. he watches you the whole time. he lifts his hand in a small wave. you don’t wave back, but you hold his gaze until he’s out of sight.

the platform feels too quiet after. the tracks stretch out in front of you, empty now. there’s a chill in the air, but you don’t feel it yet.

you stand there for a while, not really thinking, just feeling the space where he used to be. something in you knows this isn’t like the other goodbyes you’ve had before. it’s heavier. it settles deep.

that was the spring of 1991. and that was the last time you saw jay park in years.

author's note: first of all IM SO SORRY for leaving y’all hanging at the end like that 😭 but if people end up loving this story, i promise i’ll write and post part two. pinky swear.

this fic means a lot to me. i’ve always wanted to write something set in the late 80s / early 90s and finally getting to do it with jay as the main character felt really special. btw this is my first long jay fic ever, so i really hope the jay utteds out there enjoy it 🫶

also, in case it wasn’t obvious, just like heaven by the cure is my favorite song of all time :)

thank you so much for reading!!!! <3

UPDATE: part 2 is out now, read here <3

my masterlist <3

perma enha taglist: @rairaiblog @nqdirr @iyoonjh @jayparked

[yanderenightmare]

Mark Grayson — Invincible Variants

♡ TW: nsfw, yandere, poly yanderes, captive reader, invincible variants in general, you've seen the show

♡ GN reader

You’re dead in every other universe. 

It’s his fault.

He tries to save you, but he’s too late—every single time.

And in every universe, it’s what pushes him to embrace his Viltrumite nature. It’s his canon event. The moment he realizes he can’t trust in the weak constitution of human beings, it costs him too much, so he adopts his father's truth—things that drop dead like flies have the same value, meaning worthless.

So you can imagine the clusterfuck raging on in each of their heads when they find out you’re alive and well in the universe they’ve been told to wreak havoc in.

And you’re as pretty as the day they lost you. And teary-eyed and scared and cute, calling out for your Mark to come and save you. Oh fuck, how their cold hearts all melted at once.

The plan changed then. If this were the only world you were still alive in, then it was the only world they needed to conquer. And with eighteen of them, it wouldn’t be hard.

Or well, so it proved to be a little hard…

But the eight of them that survived killed Angstrom. Then locked your Mark up, thinking he could be convenient to keep.

It didn’t even take a week before Earth surrendered in full.

That wasn’t the hard part. In fact, it’s good that over half of them died—because sharing you between the eight of them is the real challenge. 

It’s not something they’re used to. Fights break out daily. And they don’t care about the damage dealt. It’s like kids stomping on an anthill just for the fun of it, leaving thousands to die every time.

Feeling as though it’s your responsibility, you try your best to please them all. Coming up with schedules—how they can alter daily or even hourly if need be—but it all proves fruitless. All you end up doing is begging them not to fight—on your knees, bowing while sobbing, holding onto the edge of their cape, pleading with them to stay.

They seem to like that. When you lower yourself.

Most of them refer to you as a pet. 

You remember Mark saying his father said he saw his mom the same way. You remember your Mark being disgusted by it. But even those of them who don’t refer to you that way still treat you like one, like something lesser, like something they’re letting live for personal reasons, not because you’re something that deserves to live.

The kinder Marks have a little more decorum about it. The superiority has really gotten to their heads, trying to spare you the understanding of how they truly see you, as if you can’t read between the lines. You don’t know if you dislike them more than the cruel Marks. At least they’re honest about it.

You’re starting to doubt whether your Mark is even still alive…

You’d cried for weeks on end to see him. And when they’d finally complied, they took you to the prison cell where they were holding him. You’d sobbed and kissed him and told him how much you missed him and how terrible everything had been without him, how you weren’t sure how much more you could take. 

He’d played along well enough for a while—you hadn’t been able to tell. But at some point, the way he touched you just didn’t feel right.

He laughed once you understood it. Mocked you. Licked the tears off your cheek with a grin and said it was worth it playing your weak-willed wimp version of them just to see that pretty look on your face. A couple of the others came in after that—they’d all found it just as funny. And then they told you they knew of a way to cure your loneliness—after all, why have your wimpy Invincible, when you can have the elite?

One time, when you were being extra whiny, as they call it, they’d taken you up in the sky and used you to play catch.

Mark had taken you flying before, but he’d never ever dropped you. And so you’d screamed until your voice gave out, and then you’d just closed your eyes and prayed for death.

But that wasn’t the worst part of it, as you found out… No, the worst part was when they’d undressed you and started playing something different with you. In the air, thirty thousand feet above the ground.

They all might look like Mark, but none of them are anything like him—some more than others. Beyond just sadistic, they’re psychotic. No humanity left, just trigger-happy thrill-seeking maniacs. They don’t even fight each other over you—they fight each other for fun. Coming back with mangled legs and broken jaws. Because why not? It’s no matter. They’re healed within the week. They don’t care about the many lives they’ve left in their wake.

But you’d caught a foul cold after their skylarking.

They’re not used to facing consequences—didn’t know who to blame but each other. Didn’t know how to fix it either—all scared you were going to die. They never did it again after that.

That’s not to say your life became any easier.

The dynamics became ever more strange the more months that passed...

At first thy wouldn’t fuck you at the same time, then they would, but without acknowledging the others presence, then it became a competition to see who could fuck you best. 

It’s not like that anymore.

Their narcissism has now evolved into a strange attraction towards each other. And it’s odd as fuck to be caught in the middle off.

They like watching each other fuck you now. Getting off on seeing themselves get off, using you more like a toy than a partner.

Any day now, and you’re sure they’re going to start kissing and touching each other.

Fuck knows what your role will be in all of it when that time comes.

♡ MISCELLANEOUS masterlist

[ao3org]

Regarding Fandom Trees & AMTs

Tag wrangling is, on the whole, a fluid process. It's meant to be, because the way language is used and the way tags are used change over time. We're the first to admit that we don’t always get it right, and that we do sometimes make mistakes despite our best intentions. This is why wrangling decisions are not set in stone and are reevaluated periodically as circumstances change or as new information becomes available. 

In light of the impact that removing the Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms metatag has had, we have put that metatag back in place. 

When it comes to fandom metatags and fandom trees, there is no 'one size fits all' approach that works for all fandoms. Consequently, we have placed a hold on all structural changes to fandom metatags, All Media Types fandoms (commonly called AMTs), and fandom trees while wranglers discuss the need for additional guidelines and adjustments to our approach regarding these tags going forward. 

This hold will remain in place until tag wranglers have had ample time to fully reevaluate our fandom wrangling guidelines with the aim of making it easier for Archive users to find the content they’re looking for and filter out the content they aren’t. This guideline reevaluation process is something we are actively working on, but it will likely take some time to complete. We will update again once these fandom guideline discussions have come to a close.

Thank you for your patience and understanding.

(From time to time, ao3org posts announcements of recent or upcoming wrangling changes on behalf of the Tag Wrangling Committee.)

[elsaclack]

Yeah okay so like I said in the tags of the last post I’m rising from my tumblr grave to say that the ban on TikTok is symptomatic of a MUCH larger and more terrifying problem. Because yes, on its surface it’s silly dances and asmr and cooking videos and whatever, but in truth and at its core, TikTok single-handedly revolutionized the way 170 million Americans communicated with each other AND the rest of the world. Non-Americans love to point out how America-centric Americans are, but fail to realize that we are purposefully raised in an isolated, insulated environment where we are told from basically day 1 that America Is The Best and not to even bother taking a look around because it’s all downhill from outside of here. TikTok has, for MANY Americans, single-handedly destroyed that notion and allowed them (us!!) to broaden our world-view and realize that actually, things are better in other countries, and it did so in a kind, empathetic, and compassionate way.

And yeah most people wake up to the truth of that on their own as they get older, but holy shit!! The VAST majority of the Americans on TikTok are millennials and gen z (and even some older gen alpha)!! People who are becoming disillusioned with “The American Dream” (said with the HEAVIEST sarcasm) while they’re still school-aged or are just entering young-adulthood!! People who are entering - or TRYING to enter - the American workforce who suddenly have an unfiltered window into non-American lives and are wondering why tf we’re struggling and penny-pinching and toeing the line of poverty while our rich elected officials sit around and fight and argue over everything that actually matters to the citizens they supposedly represent and get richer all the while. THAT is why they’re banning the app, and that fact alone should terrify every single American citizen.

Not to mention the precedent it sets for other social media platforms!! You think some nebulous, unproven, and unfounded “threat to national security” will stop with TikTok?? They’ve already censored Adult Material on tumblr, who’s gonna stop them from coming back and doing it again or getting rid of it altogether for the exact same reason? It’s a blatant act of censorship and a direct attack on the American first amendment right to free speech.

NOTHING radicalized me the way tiktok did. I watched people in my life who were STAUNCH Trump supporters in 2016 AND 2020 wake up to the truth and vote blue for the first time in their lives BECAUSE OF TIKTOK, and did so with al the nuanced understanding that even Democrats are severely failing this country, but are at least better than the alternative. That level of awareness and presence in the average US citizen scares American politicians.

The fact that the vast majority of them - including the ones loudly opposing the ban!! - bought stock in Meta BEFORE the ban was legalized/upheld by the Supreme Court?? That Mark Zuckerberg and Elon Musk were legally allowed to lobby congress to ban TikTok when BOTH stood to DIRECTLY financially gain from their biggest competitor being banned in the US and are guilty of unethically gathering data and selling it to MULTIPLE third parties?? The fact that Trump is now teasing that he may or may not intervene to save TikTok when he was the one who talked about banning it in the first place AND ALSO OWNS HIS OWN COMPETING SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORM??

It’s the burning of Alexandria. It’s the loss of a significant chunk of culture. It’s the sharp and sudden loss of contact with the rest of the world for more than half of all American citizens. It’s the loss of $240 BILLION dollars in the GDP when the country is already TRILLIONS of dollars in debt. And on an individualistic level, it’s the loss of millions of small businesses and primary income streams for so many individuals and families who found their primary audience on TikTok. Is the app perfect? HELL no. Are there significant changes needed to make it a safe environment for all users? ABSOLUTELY. But that can also be said of ANY social media platform. TikTok openly fostered connection and communication and creativity and compassion that is completely unique to that platform! It made so many people - myself included!! - feel less alone. I get the feeling I know what the general consensus is about TikTok on this site, but the ban on this app should scare the shit out of everyone.

[aedearly]

✎ㅤ. . .ㅤ𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑫 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑫𝑨𝑹𝑲𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺.

₊˚⊹ ㅤa collection of loose quotes taken from various characters from hades (supergiant games). these quotes are from the first game of the series. writing/roleplaying prompts. from fluff to angst! feel free to edit as you see fit, especially since some are gendered.

❝ i’m leaving. try and stop me. ❞ ❝ that could have gone better. ❞ ❝ why can’t you just stay? ❞ ❝ i wish you could come with me. ❞ ❝ you’re coming with me. ❞ ❝ i have to take you back. ❞ ❝ but for you, i will be making an exception. ❞ ❝ whew… they’re gone. ❞ ❝ now, come on, we got places to be! ❞ ❝ may the fates favour your journey. ❞ ❝ oh you know, i’d rather have my eyes put out, but thanks for offering! ❞ ❝ if only… ❞ ❝ you should be ashamed of yourself, and learn your place. ❞ ❝ ahh, so you are taking pity on me, then? ❞ ❝ i’m sorry that it has to be this way. ❞ ❝ you’re late. ❞ ❝ will i see you soon? ❞ ❝ did you miss me? ❞ ❝ i’m home. ❞ ❝ we’re heading home. ❞ ❝ you… came back? ❞ ❝ i hope i didn’t keep you waiting very long, did i? ❞ ❝ is something wrong? ❞ ❝ i can’t believe this. ❞ ❝ i’m in your debt. ❞ ❝ there’s going to be payback, you know. ❞ ❝ … damn you. ❞ ❝ this is for you. ❞ ❝ do you remember me? my name is—ah, nevermind. ❞ ❝ i’m not who you think i am. ❞ ❝ keep following that heart of yours. ❞ ❝ to hell with this place! ❞ ❝ fear is for the weak. ❞ ❝ oh, look at you, you poor, poor thing, you’re hurt! ❞ ❝ you’re such a sweetheart. ❞ ❝ you brought this on yourself. ❞ ❝ no need to thank me, mate. ❞ ❝ please, i don’t want to do this… ❞ ❝ you don’t have to do this… ❞ ❝ only the best for you. ❞ ❝ i hope you’re right. ❞ ❝ gods grant me strength… ❞ ❝ that is the worst idea i think i’ve ever heard. ❞ ❝ do you understand how little sense that makes? ❞ ❝ look what i found! ❞ ❝ something’s changed about the beating of your heart. ❞ ❝ no wonder they don’t like you. ❞ ❝ wish i could be there to see your face. ❞ ❝ i’ll earn your favour yet. ❞ ❝ how bad could it be? ❞ ❝ hello there, handsome. ❞ ❝ … this is the cheesiest thing i’ve heard from you. ❞ ❝ what has gotten into you? ❞ ❝ blood and darkness! ❞ ❝ lucky for you, i’ve no pride like many others here. ❞ ❝ it’s over. i’m sorry. ❞ ❝ go. away. i won’t repeat myself. ❞ ❝ i knew your heart was true. ❞ ❝ let’s kiss and make up! ❞ ❝ mischief, me? oh please! ❞ ❝ i don’t know how you can stand this kind of thing… ❞ ❝ you tried. that’s what matters. ❞ ❝ a man after my own heart… ❞ ❝ why won’t you give up? ❞ ❝ ever so stubborn, aren’t you? ❞ ❝ life and death, one and the same. ❞ ❝ you’re running from yourself. again. ❞ ❝ what do you want from me? leave me alone. we’ve nothing to discuss anymore. ❞ ❝ i cannot bring myself to stay upset with you forever. ❞ ❝ the truth is i’m a lover, not a fighter. ❞ ❝ i have to see her! ❞ ❝ so how goes wilful disobedience of late? ❞ ❝ you think all these gifts will make things go back to the way they were? ❞ ❝ we’re older now—i’d hope we’re wiser, too. ❞ ❝ i have to go. ❞ ❝ we were having such a good time! ❞ ❝ time is up. ❞ ❝ you’re so reckless. ❞ ❝ thank you for always keeping me on my toes. ❞ ❝ your luck’s run out. ❞ ❝ i don’t know why i bother with you, honestly. ❞ ❝ may i call you my friend? ❞ ❝ i’d like to make a toast, to you! ❞ ❝ no need for special thanks. ❞ ❝ i’ve some memories i’m not quite ready to give up on yet. ❞ ❝ i’ll break your heart. ❞

[anonyme-glace]

Christmas Gift

Spending Christmas break with my dad, which I’ve done tonnés of times before.

Except ever since I’ve gotten older, I can understand more and more why my friends call him a DILF. He’s built, trades man, thick legs and strong body, tall and, I can’t believe I notice this, hung.

Three weeks ago I was with him for the weekend and got to his house earlier than normal, he was showering. I couldn’t help myself, I peeked in, curiosity driving me, and maybe a bit of lust. Foggy shower door, his groans, and his hand down low. I knew what he was doing. I felt my stomach flutter.

His groans were so loud; his deep voice ringing out in the shower, talking to himself.

Fuck that feels so good baby….

Oh my god.

Keep going….

Oh my god he’s dirty talking.

You’re making daddy feel so good…

Oh my god.

…Carly.

Holy shit. What.

…

Hey Carly, sweetie, how’s it going?

I snap my head towards him, coming out of the memory.

It’s going good, dad, thanks for asking. I’m super excited to exchange gifts later, I’ve got the perfect thing for you.

Aw sweetie you didn’t have to get me anything.

I felt his eyes on me.

You’re gift enough.

I know Daddy.

…

I’ve been planning this for weeks. Now that I know he feels the same way about me. I’m gonna be the best little girl for him. I went out lingerie shopping with the girls a few weeks ago, they think I’m trying to impress Jack from fifth period. What the fuck am I doing.

Standing in my doorway, red lace plunge bra, matching panties, handcuffs in hand. He’s sitting on the couch, watching some stupid movie. I call out.

Turn that off, I’m coming out with my gift, close your eyes.

They’re closed sweetie.

I walk out, keeping my steps light, shivering with excitement. I stop in front of him.

Hands out daddy.

He laughs, a husky, sharp, inhale. Okay.

Quickly I place the cuffs on him. His eyes shoot open and I step back. He’s speechless, eyes trialing up and down my body, and I see his pants get a little tighter.

Do you like your gift daddy?

Fuck baby what are you doing? He breathes out and moves to get up. I push him back down and straddle him.

Mhm I heard you in the shower, daddy, you want me.

I don’t know what you heard sweetie, this is wrong, and illegal, and you need to get off of me. I trail my hands down his chest. You need to get off me, honey, you can’t be doing this. I’m your dad.

Daddy I can feel you. I lean into him and whisper, against my cunnie. Let me take care of you, this is your gift.

Not that he put much fight up in the first place, but his resolve loosens, and he leans back. I slide off his lap, knees hitting the floor.

I rub my hands all over him, my face rubbing his crotch. You gonna let me have it daddy? Yes baby, take daddy’s cock out. I reach for his pants but change paths and quickly unlock his hands from the cuffs before resuming.

Fuck daddy, it’s so big. I take it in my hands and begin to lick up and down, taking his balls in my mouth, and using my thumb to play with the tip. Yes baby just like that. Why don’t you take it in your mouth? I suck on the throbbing head, maintaining eye contact with him. I go deep as I can, choking myself on him, until he grabs my hair and takes control.

I can’t believe I raised such a slut. Where did you learn this slut?

I’m so sorry daddy, I’ve been with other boys.

Oh wow, you’re such a whore, you couldn’t even save yourself for me. Well I’ll just have to fill you up until you forget them, won’t I?

Yes please daddy, please give me your cock, I need it.

Good begging, come lay down and spread yourself for me. I do as he says, taking off my panties, laying back, and spreading my legs open for him. He slaps his heavy cock against my cunt before laying it on my stomach.

Look how deep I’m gonna go. Just about hits your belly button baby. I gasp and look down, just as he lines himself up with my pussy.

You’re gonna take it so well baby, all of it, all for me, forever and ever.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Sukuna

[Chapter 12] Reunion

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Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi - Bluesky

You know why he’s doing this. He has wit. He wants you to get your mind off the fact that another woman is pregnant with his child. It’s not a fact that can be easily forgotten, but he played his cards just right. Maybe it’s that, or perhaps it’s the fact that you aren’t all that bothered by the revelation. 

In the beginning you worried about your position, but he reassured you that nothing will happen to you. So now you’re just taking the opportunity to see your family, who you’ve so longed to see. Though you’ll admit, you’re nervous. You wonder how different they’ll see you after they see you in the position you’re in. 

You’re much heavier and rounder than before– Not to gloss over the fact that you carry a monster’s babies. Will they be disgusted by you? Frightened? Or will they understand that you sacrificed yourself for their wellbeing? 

Luckily, the worry doesn’t overshadow the excitement that flows through your body. You ask Hina to help you get ready, attempting to look the best that you can today. But you’re also mindful, refusing to wear any jewelry that shows off just how much wealth is in your possession. 

“Why aren’t they allowed in the palace?” You ask as Hina fixes your clothes. She smooths out any wrinkles visible in the clot, ensuring you look your best for the visit.

“King Sukuna doesn’t like peasants that have nothing to offer in the palace.” Hina answers without hesitation, and you almost laugh. You could’ve guessed as much. “Isn’t it nice, my queen? Being able to travel outside the palace?”

“It is. I’m surprised Sukuna allowed it.” You comment, and she can’t do anything but hum in response. She doesn’t have an explanation for that. “I’m assuming I won’t be alone.”

“You’re never alone, my queen.” She responds, which aren’t the words you want to hear. Regardless, you’re excited to be outside of the palace for a couple of hours– Actually outside the walls, not just strolling through the garden.

“We’ll take gifts, no? To make sure they’re well taken care of.” You suggest, as Hina finishes up.

“Yes. They’re all in the carriage.” She informs you. Sukuna has ensured everything is perfect for today while he… You have no idea what he’s doing. He’s probably figuring out how to take care of her, and you try not to think about it.

You try not to think about it because an ugly feeling seeps into your veins, and you don’t want to feel it. You can’t quite describe it, but it’s close to jealousy. But you wouldn’t call it jealousy. 

“Do you think they’ll view me differently?” You question, your hand going over your bump. You already know the answer. One way or another, they’ll think of you differently. 

“You’re a queen now, of course they do.” She says, which isn’t what you need to hear. But she’s right. “However, if you want me to say no, then I’ll say no.”

“No, you’re right.” You sigh. “Whether I like it or not, I’m someone different now.”

“Are you taking Yuuji with you?” She slightly changes the topic, wanting to cheer you up. The mention of the baby makes you smile, and you end up humming in response. You can’t leave him behind while you’re meeting your family, after all, he’s an essential part of your life now. “I’ll tell the servants to get him ready then.”

Needless to say, Sukuna’s presence is still present even when you’re in the carriage. You’re accompanied by three other servants, one of them being Hina. You wanted to be alone with your family, but it’s obviously impossible. You can’t complain though, this is more than what you could’ve asked for. 

“Can we get out of the carriage before we enter the village? I don’t want to draw attention.” You ask, and Hina laughs. She can’t wrap her head around the fact that you don’t want the people of your village to know of your wealth. 

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” Hina responds, making you sigh. Maybe it’s for the best. Your feet are too swollen to walk and you’re carrying a baby that’s months old. The news of you coming back to the village will soar either way, there’s no point in not trying to draw attention to you. 

“How will you introduce him?” Hina asks, watching as you bounce the baby to keep him calm in the carriage. You smile at the baby who chews on his hands, attempting to soothe the pain in his gums.

“My son.” You answer, hand caressing his chubby cheek. He’s gained a lot of weight in your care, which is relieving to see– You can only hope that your Haru has gained as much weight as Yuuji. 

The rest of the ride is quiet. You feel your heartbeat grow faster, excitement flourishing with the thought that you’re back home. It’s a shame that this is what it took, regardless, you’re happy to be back home.

The carriage comes to a halt, and the door opens. Your eyes fall on the small shack that your family lives in, and your eyes well up with tears. This is it. You’re finally home. 

“I’ll take the baby, my queen.” Hina holds out her arms to take Yuuji from you, and you don’t hesitate before doing so. You need all the balance and support possible before getting out, a task that’s difficult given your current state.

You safely get out, almost having to catch your breath at the simple task. The twins have gotten too heavy, you don’t even want to imagine how hard it’s going to be on you the next couple of weeks. It almost makes you wish for them to come faster… But then you remember the huge responsibility that comes with that, and the pain in your lower back doesn’t seem as bad.

“What’s all the commo–” The door to the house opens, your aunt stopping in her tracks when she sees you. Your eyes well up with tears at the sight of her, and a subtle smile coming to your face. You imagined this emotional moment where you would jump into her arms and hug her until your arms couldn’t hold any more, but you can’t bring yourself to even shuffle your feet. 

She smiles, walking over to you and cupping your face. She holds back the same tears as you do before she engulfs you in a hug. You hear her whisper, “I’m so happy to see you’re okay, my dear.”

“I’ve missed you.” You murmur as you hug her back. And for the longest moment you hold her, just as you imagined; until the cries from Yuuji cut the moment short.

“And who is this?” She asks when she pulls away, eyes falling on Yuuji. You take the baby from Hina’s arms, bouncing him before you tell her,

“My son.” Which she furrows her brows to. Before she can ask any questions you tell her, “He was… Abandoned, and I took him under my care.”

“And your babies. How are you doing?” She questions, hands going to your bump. Now you’re the confused one at her words.

“How do you–” You begin, and she lets out a sigh.

“We’ve gotten some updates from the deity. Before your condition he would often come with goods, but then you became with child and he’d send a servant whenever he could.” She explains, a small detail that Sukuna never mentioned. Something you can’t be mad about.

“How about Haru? Where is he?” You ask, eyes attempting to look inside to find him, but your narrow view provides nothing. 

“Come inside, you can’t be out in the cold like this.” She tells you, even though you have countless layers keeping you warm. You hum in response, following behind her. You worry if everyone will fit inside considering how many servants accompany you.

“Haru! Won’t you come greet your older sister?!” Your aunt shouts as you make your way inside, and you feel your heart race. You pass Yuuji back to Hina, getting ready to hug your little brother.

“Huh?” You hear his confused little voice, the biggest smile coming to your face. Not too long ago that response would’ve taken every last bit of his energy. You walk inside the home, and you watch as your little brother’s eyes widen in amazement.

“Haru.” You smile at him, the tears that have welled up in your eyes managing to spill. The first thing you notice is that his cheeks are chubby again. He’s taller. He’s smiling. He has color again. Life has been brought back to his body. 

He yells your name as he runs over to you, hugging you as tight as he can. His arms can’t hug much considering you’re much rounder. Any other time you’d pick him up and spin him around, but he’s too heavy to pick up right now.

“How are you, Haru? It’s been a while.” You ask him, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. 

“I’m fine!” He answers, pulling away from the hug. His eyes stare at your belly before he looks up at you. He can’t help but comment, “You’re big.”

You chuckle. “I am carrying twins.”

“Twins?” He asks, shocked at your words, and you hum in response. Though the amazement fades as his interest shifts, noticing that he’s not the youngest in the room. He points at the baby that Hina holds and asks, “Who’s that?”

“My son.” You respond, and the amazement takes over again.

“You have a whole baby?” He questions and you laugh before nodding in response. Maybe you’ll explain it to him when he’s a little older, but now you’ll just go with that thought. “And you’re having two more?”

“Yeah, it’s about to be a full house soon.” You answer, and Haru’s eyebrows come together.

“Is that why you don’t come around?” He pouts, and you can’t help but share the same reaction as him. If it were up to you, he’d be by your side always.

“You know the deity explained this to us, Haru.” Your aunt steps in, not wanting the cheerful moment to dull down. “We should be glad that she’s here.”

“Fine.” He huffs and puffs. “Glad you’re here, I guess.”

“Now don’t get an attitude with me.” You attempt to be serious, but you can’t help but have a lighthearted tone. You just got back home, you can’t start scolding him just yet.

He sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry, making you roll your eyes. A laugh follows quickly after, realizing that you’re finally home. You’ll be gone soon, but that doesn’t matter. You’ll make sure that you enjoy every last second in your home.

“If you get an attitude then I won’t give you the gifts I brought with me.” You tell him, and his ears perk up.

“What did you bring?” His tone becomes more cheerful, making you laugh.

“What didn’t I bring?” You respond, and you look back at the servants that have accompanied you. You don’t have to speak, they already know that you want them to bring everything in. 

Haru hugs you again and tells you, “I’m happy you’re back.”

“I’m happy to be back.” Your hand ruffles his hair, feeling a tug in your heartstrings at the sheer reminder that you’ll be gone just as quickly. 

“Why don’t you take a seat, dear? Your feet must be killing you.” Your aunt speaks up, and you laugh. She read your mind. “You look like you’re about to pop any day soon.”

“I’m due in the spring.” You answer, taking up on her offer and taking a seat. 

“Spring is just around the corner.” She points out, and you sigh. That’s the last thing you want to think about. 

“How about you guys? I hope things have been good in my absence.” You change the topic, though you already know the answer. Your aunt told you all you needed to know about their situation. Sukuna has kept them well.

“With the deity coming around, things have been flourishing.” She tells you, and you sheepishly smile. You’re happy knowing that your sacrifice was worth it. Not only is your Haru doing great, but they’re seeing abundance at a rate that your family has never been able to achieve. “And you, my dear? How are things with the deity?”

“They’re… Good.” You say, not wanting to explain the ups and downs of your life with Sukuna. You certainly don’t want to confess the ruckus that your life is in right now.

“What’s the name of your baby?” Haru asks as he sits down beside you. He cuddles up next to you and you welcome him with open arms.

“Hina, please take a seat.” You tell her, noticing that she stands still as she holds the baby. You watch her sit down before you turn your attention to Haru, “His name is Yuuji.”

“Why is he trying to eat his hand?” He then questions as he watches the baby shove his hand in his mouth.

“His little teeth are coming out, and it hurts.” You explain, and Haru furrows his brows.

“Your baby’s weird.” Haru responds, making you giggle. You shouldn’t laugh, but you can’t help it.

You pinch his cheek before pointing out, “You were just like that too. You were a big crier too!”

“Nuh-uh!” He yells, and you squint your eyes.

“What do you mean nuh-uh?! You were a baby, and I was the one taking care of you!” You scold him, and he sticks his tongue out at you. You lightly hit him in the back of his head for his reaction, making him whine in response.

No matter how big the age gap, he’s still your sibling. The arguing won’t stop, no matter how big or small he is– You wonder if that’s how the twins will be with Yuuji. You hope it is.

It hurts when you have to go your separate ways. It takes everything in you to not cry when Haru bursts into tears. You try to reassure him that you’ll see him again soon, though you’re not sure. You’ll make sure you see him again, even if it’s the last thing you do. The thing is that you know it won’t happen until after you give birth to the twins.

The ride back home is quiet. Yuuji sleeps and you try to hold back the tears to not… You can’t even think of the reasoning. Maybe Sukuna is rubbing off on you. You don’t want to look weak in front of Hina. 

The sun has set when you get back to the palace, and while it’s typically quiet during this time, there’s over twenty servants around. You don’t pay attention to it until you reach your room and notice a woman scrubbing the floor. 

“Hina, bathe Yuuji and bring him back to me.” You order, and the woman hums in response before quietly exiting. You stare at the servant that diligently does her task, and you ask, “Where’s Sukuna?”

“My queen!” She yelps before bowing down to you. You almost roll your eyes, but you shouldn’t. You should be used to this treatment by now. “I don’t know where King Sukuna is.”

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“King Sukuna ordered for the palace to be scrubbed down before your arrival.” She answers, and you hum in response. That doesn’t answer a thing, if anything, your curiosity is piqued.

“Right. Carry on then.” You tell her before entering your room. You try not to think too much about it, perhaps he just wants to prepare for the birth of the twins. However, that’s in spring and it’s going to be a while. The palace will be dirty again by the time it happens.

“How was it? Are you happy now?” You’re spooked by him, too lost in your own thoughts to register his heavy footsteps. Oddly enough, Sukuna’s hands hug you from behind, bringing you into his embrace.

“Why are people scrubbing down the palace?” You don’t even bother answering his question. You don’t even have to look at him to know that he’s rolled his eyes at your lack of manners.

“Why must you know? Can’t I have my place clean?” He responds, making you turn around and face him. You furrow your brows, crossing your arms to let him know that you’re displeased by his answer. He finds it cute as he looks down at you– Oh, you really think you’re intimidating like this when you’re simply tiny compared to him.

“What are you hiding?” You ask.

“Just told them to clean up everything so you wouldn’t see a drop of blood.” He ends up saying, and you furrow your brows. There’s a servant in every corner of the palace, so it definitely wasn’t anything pretty.

You should be squeamish by his response, but at this point you’re used to his antics. As horrid as it is to say. You can’t particularly be mad either since… You have a feeling that you know what he was doing.

“Must have been a massacre then.” You comment, and he’s about to nod in agreement, but he won’t. You’re still a soft little thing, even if you’re tougher than when he first met you.

“You haven’t answered my question.” He points out, and you sigh.

“When can I see him again?” You ask, a question that tells him all he needs to know. He knew this would happen which is why he didn’t want to let you go out, but he had to allow it.

“I don’t understand your attachment to that insolent human.” He scoffs a comment that he regrets making the moment he looks down at you and sees tears welling up in your eyes. He sighs before saying, “I guess after the twins are here.”

“They’re my family too.” You end up saying, wrapping your arms around his large figure. It’s an action that takes him by surprise; certainly something that he can’t complain about. He hears a sniffle, and he tries to comfort you to the best of his ability. “I miss them.”

“What? So do you expect me to bring them here?” He tries to joke, a concept foreign to the being. He even lets out a scruffy laugh to get his point across, but you look up at him with teary, yet hopeful eyes. He immediately tells you, “Oh no. Absolutely not.”

[glowettee]

✧˖° the identity shift: start thinking like an A+ student

post 1

💭 before you even touch your notes, before you highlight a single word, before you drown in exam stress. change how you think about yourself.

most people study with the mindset of “i hope i do well” instead of “i am the kind of person who excels.” and that’s the difference. if you want to start acing your exams, your first step isn’t flashcards or practice tests. it’s shifting your identity. because an A+ student doesn’t just work hard, they think, act, and exist differently.

this is the second post to the final exam survival series. the last post, was focused on how to actually enjoy learning and using that to motivate yourself for school. this post will focus on shifting your identify, which can also work great for manifesting and law of attraction/assumption. i will try to give you the best possible tips to help you shift your mindset to already have the A+ mentality. love you guys <3 - mindy

disclaimer: please don't think i expect you to be perfect, i use 'A+ student' as a way to help you when using loa or manifesting. YOU ARE A HUMAN; DO NOT THINK YOU NEED TO MEET STANDARDS TO BE PERFECT! i love you all and wanted to make sure you know i am NOT setting an unrealistic standard. this post is to help you with manifesting good grades and to inspire you. not for toxic motivation or unrealistic standard setting. - mindy

✧˖° ➼ 01. stop identifying as “bad at studying”

you will never outperform the identity you attach to yourself. if you keep telling yourself: ➝ “i suck at this subject.”➝ “i’ve never been good at exams.”➝ “i’m just not a naturally smart person.”

then you’ll stay stuck. why? because your brain is wired to prove yourself right. but when you shift to: ➝ “i am fully capable of mastering this material.”➝ “i am becoming an A+ student.”➝ “i study in a way that works for me.”

your actions start aligning with that belief. the way you approach studying changes. and suddenly? you’re not “bad at it” anymore.

✧ homework: rewrite every negative academic belief you’ve held about yourself into a new, empowering one. read them before every study session.

✧˖° ➼ 02. start acting like an A+ student right now

not when you feel “ready.” not when you’re already good at the subject. right now.

✨ an A+ student doesn’t: • cram the night before and hope for the best • avoid studying because it feels overwhelming • rely on last-minute motivation to get things done

✨ an A+ student does: • plan their study sessions like an actual strategy • break down material into small, digestible pieces • work consistently, even when they don’t “feel like it”

✧ homework: take one small action today that your A+ student self would take. even if it’s just organizing your study space or making a realistic revision schedule.

✧˖° ➼ 03. use strategic learning, not just memorization

most students study to remember. A+ students study to understand. if you keep forcing yourself to memorize facts with no deeper connection, you’re setting yourself up for forgetting everything under pressure.

🖇 better study strategies:• teach the material → pretend you're tutoring someone who knows nothing about it. if you can explain it simply, you truly understand it. • apply what you learn → don’t just read about a formula, actually use it in practice questions. don’t just memorize historical dates, understand their impact. • switch up your methods → your brain loves novelty. use diagrams, study cards, summarization, and active recall instead of just rereading notes.

✧ homework: find one concept you’ve been struggling with and try teaching it to yourself out loud as if you were giving a TED talk.

✧˖° ➼ 04. start believing you deserve high grades

subconsciously, a lot of people don’t actually believe they’re the kind of person who gets top marks. they might think: ❝ i’ve never been a straight-A student, so why start now? ❞ ❝ my past grades weren’t amazing, i probably won’t do much better. ❞

but what if you let yourself believe otherwise? what if you fully accepted that you deserve to succeed just as much as anyone else? because you do. and the moment you believe that, you start acting in ways that make it true.

✧ homework: visualize yourself receiving your dream grade. feel the confidence of knowing you earned it. then ask yourself: what would my future self tell me to start doing right now?

✧˖° ➼ 05. control your environment like a top student

your surroundings play a huge role in your academic identity. A+ students set themselves up for success by designing an environment that makes focus effortless.

🖇 small shifts that make a huge difference: • keep your study space clean & minimal (no distractions) • use a dedicated study playlist to trigger focus mode • have a go-to beverage (tea, coffee, water) to make studying feel like a ritual • wear comfortable but put-together clothes to signal to your brain that it’s time to work • remove your phone from your workspace entirely (or use app blockers)

✧ homework: make one intentional change to your study environment today. observe how it affects your focus.

✧˖° ➼ 06. stop waiting for motivation

A+ students know that motivation is fleeting. they don’t rely on feeling “in the mood” to study. instead, they: ➝ create systems (set study times, routines) ➝ make studying automatic (habit, not a debate) ➝ use momentum (just start. five minutes can turn into an hour)

✧ homework: set a 10-minute timer and study right now. no overthinking, no debating. just start.

✧˖° mindy’s personal tips

💌 your identity is everything. if you don’t believe you’re an A+ student yet, start acting like it anyway. your mindset will catch up. 💌 make studying feel aesthetic. wear cute study outfits, light a candle, make it a whole vibe. enjoyable studying = effective studying. 💌 romanticize the glow-up. your academic transformation is a story. imagine looking back and realizing this was the moment everything changed. 💌 you are not behind. you can reinvent yourself as a top student at any time. even now. even today.

xoxo mindy

[imsosleepyofyourbull]

I firmly believe that Kabru is autistic but masks so hard that he’s convinced himself and (almost) everyone around him that he’s neurotypical.

That man’s special interest is people and how they work, but he just thinks it’s him Being So Good At Socializing — like he doesn’t spend 95% of his time people watching and adjusting his personality in response to the traits he witnesses and obsessing over the intricacies of human interaction while mapping an ever growing relationship chart in his head. For fun. He even admits it in the manga!

Like, look at him!!!

It’s such a shame that — because he’s the narrative foil to Laios and his interest is generally considered more “socially acceptable” in both their world and our own — more people don’t realize this about him. He’s constantly misinterpreted as a horribly manipulative person who only acts the way he does to use the people around him, when that’s explicitly shown to not be the case at all. Kabru is naturally empathetic and is almost always thinking about other people, regardless of whether or not they’re right there with him or a thousand miles away.

I mean, his most defining motivation is his desire to do everything he can to avoid another tragedy like the one at Utaya. Someone who doesn’t care wouldn’t have a goal like that, and they most certainly wouldn’t go about it the way he does. He’s constantly working to help people who can help everyone else and tries so hard to make sure that anyone who seems like a threat is actually someone he needs to worry about before doing anything about it. His supposed aversion to Laios is only because of the ridiculous trolley problem he’s set up in his own head.

Outside of that, he (rather justifiably) hates monsters but is desperate to understand Laios’ love for them and his apparently most selfish goal in getting close to the guy was literally just to become friends with him.

When he’s interacting with the canaries and they imply that they’re going to take him and all of his friends to the West, his first thought is of Rin and how much she’d hate to be stuck in the place that gave her so many bad memories.

He helps Kuro learn Common when Mickbell is asleep and firmly looks forward to the day that the half-foot and Kuro can communicate properly so that their relationship can get properly started without any miscommunication.

And he understands Mithrun with only a handful of weeks AT BEST interacting with him, getting enraged when the elf seems to give up and immediately trying to help him find a new motivation for life.

I’m excited just thinking about the day that Kabru starts unmasking more and more around his friends — both new and old — because if being with my current friend group has taught me anything, it’s that hanging out with anyone so unabashedly themselves is bound to make you more comfortable with yourself too. It’s part of the reason why I like Labru so much! There’s something nice about imagining them hanging out in the throne room or laying in the grass outside and talking for hours on end about their special interests. They might not strictly understand what the other finds so fascinating about monsters or people, but they can grasp that shared feeling of love.

They probably influence each other in really good ways too, with Kabru helping Laios figure out what people are thinking even when it doesn’t make sense or Laios helping Kabru understand that not everyone and everything needs to be analyzed a thousand times over. They both get to learn that there are people like them and people who will love them without them ever having to change a thing about themselves. They deserve to know that they’re fine the way they are.

[tarotwithavi]

Facts about your future spouse

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Masterlist - Extended masterlist - Paid services

How to choose a pile?

Close your eyes and take a deep breath and ask the angels to show you the right pile for you and open your eyes. The first pile that catches your attention is the right pile for you.

Don't forget to like and reblog to show support 🫶🏻

PILE 1

Their mother might be strict or might have german accent. She has a tough way with words.

You might meet them at UNI or an Educational Institute. You can also meen them in foreign land.

Italy or Italian architecture might be significant.

They have really attactive and big hands. It seems that they take good care of their hands.

They might have a butterfly tattoo somewhere on their body. Or butterflies might be significant.

They might have tanned or olive skin.

They might love dogs and can have dogs as pet. Especially white furred dogs.

They might have a uniquely shaped belly botton lol.

Women in their family wear a lot of red or red color might have some significance in their family.

They might have Leo, Capricorn, Gemini or Libra as their sun moon or rising.

They have an oddly specific pet peeve, like people who chew too loud or use too many emojis.

Their handwriting changes depending on their mood, and even they don’t understand why.

PILE 2

Your future spouse has a weirdly specific skill like solving a Rubik’s cube in under a minute or knowing way too much about a niche topic.

They will absolutely roast you for your bad decisions, but in the most loving way possible. A bit sassy and sarcastic.

They always find money in the most random places lol like pockets, couch cushions, even inside books they haven’t opened in years.

They have strong opinions about tea vs. coffee. they may prefer tea over coffee.

They have a really soothing voice, the kind that makes you feel safe, even when they’re ranting about something completely ridiculous.

They are the type of person who adopts strays—animals, plants, and sometimes even chaotic people who just need a little guidance.

They have a love-hate relationship with technology. They might be a genius at fixing things but also somehow manage to break their phone charger every two months.

You’re going to have an inside joke so ridiculous that saying just one word will send you both into uncontrollable laughter.

They have a very specific way of organizing things that only they understand. You’ll think their desk is a mess, but if you move one thing, they’ll notice immediately.

When they’re focused, they zone out completely.

PILE 3

They give the best pep talks, but in a brutally honest way. They won’t sugarcoat things.

They have a weirdly strong intuition. They might casually predict things without realizing it, like saying, "I have a feeling it's going to rain," and suddenly there's a thunderstorm.

If they start a book, show, or game, they have to finish it, even if they hate it. They’ll suffer through it just because they need to know how it ends.

They always get the perfect gift for people. It’s like they have a sixth sense for what will make someone’s heart explode with happiness. (Meanwhile, they’ll say they’re “bad at gifts.” Lies.)

When they’re really focused, they talk to themselves without realizing it.

They’ve gone through something really tough in the past, and because of it, they have become really resilient.

Their sneeze is either ridiculously tiny or absurdly loud. No in-between.

They always hum random songs but never realize they’re doing it.

They take their food way too seriously like personally offended if fries aren’t crispy enough.

They have an unreadable expression that makes it impossible to tell if they’re joking or dead serious.

Tarotwithavi © all rights reserved.

[kxsagi]

Bllk boys w a reader who's always changing hair color or/ and makeup?

“𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧”

a/n: i love sticking to routine so i admire when people go out of their comfort zones and experiment with makeup

ft. isagi yoichi, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, karasu tabito, itoshi sae, itoshi rin, kaiser michael

isagi yoichi

he’s trying to be cool, but lowkey stunned every single time. 

he thought he recognized you until he saw you with silver hair and neon green eyeliner and froze like “wait… who is this?” then you laughed and said “it’s me, silly.” he nodded slowly like he believed it. 

takes way too many pictures of you because he’s still trying to figure out which version of you he likes best. “this one? or the one with the smokey eye?” 

lowkey scared to compliment you because he’s afraid he’ll accidentally praise a past look and you’ll switch it up the next day out of spite. 

once spent an entire morning helping you pick the perfect lipstick shade. ended up with more lipstick on his face than yours. didn’t mind. 

when you went full goth one week and dyed your hair black, he was like a proud dad who’s just happy you’re happy. “you look cool. cool, scary, but cool.” 

shidou ryusei

he’s hype 24/7 and secretly jealous. 

“yo, that hair’s fire!” is his standard greeting now. no matter what color you show up with, he’s hyped and can’t stop staring. 

he lowkey wants to try switching up his look because you’re setting the bar too high. “bet i could pull off jet black too, right?” (you tell him please no but secretly you want to see it.) 

makeup tutorials? he watches them with you, but only to roast the dramatic ones. “why do people put that much highlighter on their face? they’re gonna blind somebody.” 

once convinced you to do matching streaks in your hair and was so proud he showed off to the whole team. he calls it “power couple dye.” 

every time you change your style, he’s the first to scream “that’s my girl!!!” like a proud hype man in the stands. 

nagi seishiro

he tries to be indifferent, but lowkey loves the attention. 

“did you do something with your hair?” he asks casually every time. the answer is always different, but he tries not to look too impressed. 

lowkey fascinated by how you can change your whole vibe with just makeup and hair. “it’s like you’re a different person every week.” 

he’ll offer you one makeup tip, which is basically “don’t get it in my eyes.” 

took a million selfies with you when you did that pastel goth look once. “don’t tell anyone i liked it. you looked like a video game character.” 

teases you about being a “professional chameleon,” but secretly thinks it’s the coolest thing ever. 

mikage reo

he’s elegant, but sometimes bewildered. 

“you’re like an artist.” he says it so seriously every time you show up with a new look, like you just painted a masterpiece. 

not totally sure what all the makeup jargon means, but he tries to learn because he wants to understand your craft. (bonus points if you teach him.) 

when you showed up with fiery red hair and bold eyeliner, he almost dropped his glass of wine. “wow. you’re on fire.” 

he’s a bit protective too. “don’t let anyone dull your colors.” 

once made a small donation to a high-end makeup brand because “it makes you happy.” he thinks that counts as a romantic gesture. 

karasu tabito

he’s amused and a little sarcastic. 

“so, what’s the color this week? purple? green? ‘don’t talk to me’ black?” he asks with mock seriousness. 

“you change your look more often than i change my socks.” (which is pretty often.) 

lowkey admires your confidence. “i wouldn’t have the guts. i’m too lazy.” 

you once dared him to wear lipstick for a day. he did it but immediately wiped it off when no one was looking. 

sometimes pretends not to notice, but he’s secretly memorized every shade you’ve worn and can name your favorite lipstick brand on demand. 

itoshi sae

he’s lowkey impressed, but acts like it’s no big deal. 

“you don’t do anything halfway, huh?” he says, deadpan, watching you change your hair color yet again. 

he appreciates how you own your look and never care what anyone thinks. it’s something he admires, even if he won’t say it outright. 

he’s not the most expressive about makeup, but he notices the little things, like the way you do your eyeliner on a day you’re feeling confident. 

once caught himself staring at you in disbelief because your hair color matched your eyeshadow perfectly. “that’s some next-level coordination.” 

if he ever sees you struggling with a tricky makeup look, he’ll silently get you a mirror or some wipes and then walk away before you can thank him. 

itoshi rin

his eyeliner is fear. yours is fierce. 

rin notices every single change you make. he just refuses to comment on it until you ask. then he hits you with a grumpy “… it looks good,” while blushing like he just confessed his entire soul. 

the first time you came home with icy blue hair and rhinestone liner, he stared for five straight minutes before muttering “you look like a final boss.” (that was actually a compliment.) 

pretends he doesn’t care when you ask “should i go copper next?” but he always votes subtly. “do whatever you want… but the pink was nice.” 

if you wear dramatic lashes and bold lips, he gets weirdly quiet and stares at you from across the room like he’s fighting demons. like sir? why do you look like you're losing a boss fight in your brain??? 

the day you gave him a full “e-boy eyeliner look” for fun, he groaned the whole time, but refused to wipe it off for hours. he even looked in the mirror more than once. 

he's used to living in black and grey, so dating you is like watching someone splash color into his grayscale world, and he’s annoyingly obsessed with every shade you bring. 

kaiser michael

he pretends to be unfazed, but you’re LIVING in his head rent-free with every look. 

“another hair color? what happened to the purple?” “got bored.” “you’re a menace. and it’s hot.” 

loves every single look you try, but especially the bold ones. full lashes, glitter shadow, hair that looks like you walked out of an anime? that’s his kryptonite. he’s down bad. 

literally calls you his “goddess of transformation” and demands a grand entrance every time you walk into the room with a new style. “music! lights! look at her!!” 

if anyone so much as blinks wrong at your look in public, he’ll throw hands. “jealousy is ugly, schatz. unlike your highlighter. which is blinding and perfect.” 

has no idea how makeup works, but he’ll fake confidence. “yeah, the… contour? it’s really…contouring.” 

once tried to dye his own hair to match yours as a joke. it turned out weirdly green and he had a spiral. you still tease him about it. 

when you do a romantic look – soft tones, glossy lips, light blush – he melts. like visibly short-circuits. “ugh. stop being so pretty. this is a threat to my ego.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[anundyingfidelity]

FREE PASS — Sam Winchester

Summary: Two men appear at your office to inspect a body from a lady who died under mysterious conditions. As a forensic, you are not letting strangers inside the morgue, but one of them is going too far to get your permission.

Pairing: Undercover!Sam Winchester x female reader.

Word count: 1.6k.

Warnings: smut, office sex, against the wall sex lol, sexual tension, p in v, unprotected sex, the dirty stuff, Dean being a dick (i love him he's a jerk).

GEN MASTERLIST!

taglist is here!

“I said no.”

“If you could just give a call to our boss he’ll–”

“Sorry, I need proper documentation so you can check that up,” you repeated yourself for the tenth time as you took some piles of documents from your desk to save them into the archive.

Dean, undercover along with Sam for this new case, sighed, trying not to lose it right there. You were so insistent on getting those damn documents signed before they could inspect the dead woman’s body, who got reported as having all her blood drained with no trace. Why wasn’t this working? They’ve done it hundreds of times already, and not even his personal charms were enough to let them get inside.

“So, my partner and I really need to see this. We know there’s another woman that died, same conditions, in less than twenty-four hours after this one was found,” Sam intervened and interrupted Dean’s thoughts.

You looked surprised as to why they knew about the other body as well.

“I don’t recall mentioning the next one they’re bringing in for an autopsy,” you replied, eyes falling on Sam as you crossed your arms on your chest.

Dean observed your gaze attentively falling on his brother, your demeanor seemed to change abruptly every time Sam talked. Even your voice sounded different.

“How do you know that?” you asked, ignoring Dean’s presence.

“We know because we’re authority,” Sam sternly said.

“Well, I am the authority here. So you can either leave or bring the document from your boss.”

“Of course, doctor,” Dean interrupted your stare contest, smiling as best as he could given the irritating feeling you just caused him. “We’re bringing that up soon, thank you for your time.”

With that, both of them left your office.

“Damn, she was annoying,” Dean said, saving up his badge on his jacket.

“Yeah, but I think I have an idea,” Sam agreed as they made their way to the car.

“So what? You’re gonna sleep with her until she agrees?” Dean chuckled, but when he noticed Sam’s eyes illuminating, he stopped grinning. “Oh…”

Sam went back to the morgue late at night. He hoped you were gone to inspect the bodies and get the reports, meanwhile Dean stayed back at the motel room to do some more research.

‘She’s a bitch’ Dean had said before his brother left, you really had hurted the charm in him. Sam found it kind of funny, though. Dean was so used to ladies swooning for him, and there were a couple of times those cheesy lines and non-chalant flirting had worked in tough times like this, but you weren’t buying it. So sneaking in was by far the best option he had.

Before starting the inspection on the bodies and making sure there was no one at the place, Sam made his way to your office to check on the autopsy files. The lights were still on but it was empty. He searched the last files, skimming and scanning information before taking pictures with his phone. He was almost done, saving them up in place when the door opened.

“Agent?”

God, he was so screwed.

Sam finished closing the drawer and turned back to get a look at you, standing at the door frame clearly mad at him.

“I hope you have the document I clearly asked for earlier today.”

“Uhm, this is very-”

“There’s nothing funny going on here, agent Harrison. Is that your real name anyway?” you asked as you approached him, until you were just mere inches away from each other.

He smiled as best as he could, ignoring your last question. Dean was right, you were a bitch. A bold one.

“You don’t understand, doctor. We can’t keep waiting for a piece of paper to make an inspection,” Sam replied as politely as he could.

“Probably, but it is protocol. I ain’t letting that slip away and risk my job just because two assholes are trying to hit on me to get access to the morgue.”

“We’re risking getting more people killed under this same pattern. Tell me, do you even care about them dying? We need to do something now, doctor, before it’s too late,” Sam started to raise his voice, but not to the point where he could sound angry. He was just being authoritative, exactly like you were with both of them before.

You flinched slightly when he raised his voice. He has started to think of the way you would react differently with him than with Dean. You clearly didn’t like his brother, but Sam was another story. Dean had obviously noticed that, and now Sam was seeing it too. Whatever you were feeling right now, could be cut by a sharp knife. Dean’s not so subtle idea was suddenly good, not that he didn’t think you were hot being all bossy and bitchy with them. He decided to give it a try.

Sam pulled you quickly for a desperate kiss. He swallowed a sweet moan of yours against his mouth, and towered you with his broad figure until you stepped back and you hit the cold wall behind you.

“What are you doing?” you asked between breaths when the kiss was over.

“Convincing you.”

He waited for an answer, but he got everything he needed to continue when you began to take off his jacket desperately, as if anyone could catch you inside the office in the middle of the night. Sam attacked your lips again, the kiss growing hot and wet as both explored your bodies, tracing patterns over your clothes you both were desiring to get rid of.

Sam barely could get your blouse unbuttoned and discharged your trousers after his shirt was gone. Your hand stroking his cock under his pants after unbuckling them, his lips sucking on the skin of your neck and long fingers finding your wet slit over your panties. You moaned, feeling one of his digits curling inside your walls, his breath hitching once your palm stroked him faster. You pulled him for a kiss, tangling your free hand on his long, soft hair as he grunted against your mouth. Both tasting each other’s sweet noises and savoring the heat building up in between.

He lifted you, your legs around his waist, feeling his hard cock pressing against your cunt. He just pulled your panties aside, bare chest pressing against your own still covered by your bra. He lined up with your entrance and you gasped, feeling the tip of his cock splitting you. He became so eager, so needy, he didn’t give a shit to undress you properly, he got what he needed between your legs. You looked so hot like this, squirming and moaning as he filled you up completely.

“God, you’re so big- oh, fuck!” you breathed out.

Sam grinned. “So fucking tight… And cockdrunk already.”

He slammed his hips and quickly found the perfect pace to fuck you right through it.

He held you tightly against the wall, your pussy taking him so perfectly he would just cum right there. The quietness of the office dissipated. Moans, grunts and the obscene noises of skin against skin filled the place. Your hand buried on his scalp, pulling his hair just a little, feeling embarrassedly close to your orgasm. You couldn’t help yourself. Ever since the moment they walked in, he caught your attention, and you spent the whole afternoon daydreaming of a good fuck either way.

Sam pounded harshly, hips stuttering and giving harsh thrusts as he felt his climax building up, his cock twitching when your walls began to spasm around his length, fucking you over and over, until he spilled inside you. Soon, you followed and came hard as his finger rubbed your clit slowly. You pulled his hair harshly once you reached heaven, and he nipped your neck, grunting on your skin. You milked him completely until his thrusts were slower, and eventually stopped, still buried balls deep inside your pussy, pulsing and sensitive from the best orgasm you had in a very long time.

You remained there, legs tangled around his waist as you softened on his arms. His hot cum dripped down your thighs, and you wanted nothing more than to stay there forever.

When Sam cooled down from his high, he pulled out and helped you remain on your feet, your legs were still wobbly and he took some pride in your state. You shared an accomplice stare, and you knew you got yourself into some trouble.

“So… you still need my reports and check the bodies, right?”

Sam slammed an envelope on the table with a thud. Dean, looking away from the laptop, noticed a proud smirk on his brother’s face.

“Really? You banged the forensic?” he asked with a teasing voice and laughed. “Wow.”

“What?” Sam said, getting annoyed by his childish behavior.

“I knew she was eye-fucking you since we entered that office. Guess I wasn’t her type,” Dean got on his feet, taking the envelope. “Anyway, that is a pretty reasonable answer as to why she was acting so hostile with me, specifically. Good job, Sammy.”

Dean patted Sam’s shoulder proudly, like a father congratulating his son for winning a high school baseball game, and then walked away to lie on his bed, taking out the copy of the reports.

Sam would’ve liked for Dean to actually ask questions about the case, instead he spent the next hour or so teasing him for fucking his way to get access to a morgue. He took out his phone when a text came, ignoring Dean’s disgusting question of how sex was.

We have a new one. What the hell is going on?

He might have found a new ally on you for this.

Sam Winchester taglist:

@onlyangel-444 @feyresqueen @drasticemotions @stoneyggirl2 @whothefvckami