#but it’s the writing that goes along with it I care about

[kaiyunsim]

just a boy —

pairing : fuckboy!jay x gn!reader

summary : you meet jay at a party where you reject him after making a move… he likes it when they play hard to get.

warnings : angst, fluff, more angst than fluff tbh, uni au, reader is a freshman, jay is older, featuring heeseung + jake, jisung from nct, and minju from illit

a/n : omg fun to write is actually an understatement. i hope it turned out fun to read :) also for my pookie @writhyv

queueing : just a boy - alaina castillo,

— wc : 6.6 — not proof read —

you don't really care about parties. they're loud, crowded, and always filled with people trying too hard. but minju drags you along anyway, insisting that you need to "experience the university nightlife" at least once.

"come on, it'll be fun," she says, looping her arm through yours. "plus, jisung bailed on me, and i am not third-wheeling jake and his situationship all night."

so now you're here, standing awkwardly in the corner of a frat house, gripping a red solo cup filled with something that smells suspiciously like gasoline. minju is already off somewhere, talking to a girl from her english class, and you're left to watch as people dance, drink, and make questionable decisions.

"you look miserable," a voice says from beside you.

you turn and come face to face with park jongseong, jay, as everyone calls him. you know his name, even if you've never spoken before. he's older, popular, and has a reputation that follows him everywhere he goes.

flirt. player. fuckboy.

minju has warned you about him. "he's hot, yeah, but he's the kind of guy who doesn't do relationships. he flirts, hooks up, and moves on. trust me, i've seen it happen."

but none of that matters, because you have no plans to entertain him.

jay grins at you, leaning against the wall like he owns the place. he's got that easy confidence, the kind that comes with knowing he's attractive and that people want him.

"not a fan of parties?" he asks, tilting his head.

you shrug. "not really."

he chuckles. "then why are you here?"

"minju."

his eyebrows raise slightly. "you know minju?"

"from high school." you say, keeping your answers short.

"interesting," he muses, eyes scanning your face like he's trying to place you somewhere in his memory. he doesn't seem to recognize you, though, which isn't surprising. you've never exactly run in the same circles.

"so," he says, shifting closer. "wanna dance?"

it's not a question, not really. it's the kind of offer people don't usually refuse, not when it comes from him. jay park doesn't get turned down.

but you just blink at him and say, "no, thanks."

his smile falters, just for a second, before he recovers. "really? you sure? i promise i'm a good dancer."

"i'm sure." you say with a fake smile, giving off the vibe that you’re annoyed

he lets out a soft laugh, like he can't believe you're actually rejecting him. his ego must be bruised, but he hides it well, still looking at you with interest.

"alright," he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "then how about a drink? i can get you something better than… whatever that is." he nods at your cup.

"i'm good."

"wow," he murmurs, shaking his head in amusement. "you're really not making this easy for me, huh?"

"should i?"

he grins, running a hand through his dark hair. "most people do."

"well, i'm not most people."

jay studies you for a moment, like he's trying to figure out why you're different. why you're not reacting the way everyone else does. you don't bat your lashes at him, don't giggle or play into his flirting. and for some reason, instead of turning him away, it only seems to intrigue him more.

"i like you," he says suddenly.

you roll your eyes. "you don't even know me."

"not yet," he agrees, "but i’d like to."

there's something almost playful in his voice, but you know better. jay isn’t interested in getting to know people. he's interested in chasing, in winning. and right now, you’re just another game to him.

"keep liking me from a distance," you say, brushing past him.

you don’t look back, but you feel his eyes on you as you walk away.

for the first time in his life, park jongseong has been rejected. and somehow, you think that only makes him more determined.

—

you don't think much about your encounter with jay. to you, it was just another conversation at a party, one you barely wanted to be at in the first place.

but apparently, jay thinks otherwise.

it starts with small things.

you see him at the campus café, where he just so happens to show up right behind you in line.

"oh, hey," he says casually, as if running into you is pure coincidence.

you glance at him, unimpressed. "hey."

"what are you getting?"

you turn back to the menu. "haven't decided."

"let me guess," he hums, tapping a finger against his chin like he's solving some great mystery. "you seem like a caramel macchiato kind of person."

you raise a brow. "what does that even mean?"

jay grins, leaning in slightly. "sweet, but a little bitter if you get on their bad side."

"so basically, you're guessing."

"i call it an educated guess," he says, nodding at the cashier. "get one. my treat."

"no, thanks."

he lets out a dramatic sigh. "you really don't like accepting things from me, huh?"

"nope."

instead of looking discouraged, jay just watches as you place your order, an iced americano, completely different from what he guessed.

he chuckles. "so i was way off."

"yup."

you take your drink and leave without another word. jay doesn’t follow, but you swear you feel his stare on your back as you walk away.

it keeps happening.

and then, one afternoon, you’re sitting under a tree, trying to get through an assignment, when someone drops into the grass beside you.

"you always look so serious," jay muses.

you don’t even glance up. "because i'm trying to focus."

"right, right." he leans back on his hands. "but don't you ever take a break?"

"nope."

"come on," he nudges your knee with his. "five minutes won't kill you."

you sigh, finally looking at him. "do you need something?"

jay flashes you that same easy grin, the one that probably gets him whatever he wants. "just your company."

"i think you’ll survive without it."

he clutches his chest dramatically. "ouch. you wound me."

"you’ll live."

jay just laughs, shaking his head. "you know, you’re making this really difficult."

"making what difficult?"

"getting to know you."

"who said i wanted you to?"

he stares at you for a moment, eyes glinting with something unreadable. then, instead of answering, he stands up and dusts himself off.

"alright," he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. "guess i’ll try again tomorrow."

before you can process his words, he's already walking away.

"okay, what is going on?" minju asks a few days later, sliding into the seat across from you in the dining hall.

"what do you mean?"

she gestures dramatically. "you and jay. he keeps staring at you. he keeps showing up wherever you are."

"it's just a coincidence."

"coincidence my ass," she huffs. "he’s interested."

"interested in what? flirting with someone who doesn’t want to flirt back?"

"exactly!" minju exclaims. "he's never been rejected before! you’re like. like. his first loss."

"not a loss," you correct. "just… not a win."

"same thing in his mind." she leans in, eyes narrowing. "be honest. do you like him?"

you snort. "no."

"not even a little?"

"minju, he flirts with anything that breathes."

"true," she concedes, stabbing a piece of her salad. "but he’s never tried this hard before."

you roll your eyes. "and that’s exactly why i’m not interested. he only wants what he can’t have."

"so you think if you gave in, he’d lose interest?"

"obviously. but it’s not like i want him to be interested in the first place,”

but what you don’t see is jay, sitting at another table with jake and heeseung, watching you from across the room.

"so," heeseung says, "still trying?"

jay sips his drink, not looking away. "yup."

jake shakes his head, laughing. "dude, you're obsessed."

"i'm not obsessed," jay scoffs. "i'm just… interested."

heeseung raises a brow. "in what? winning?"

jay pauses. that should be the answer. that’s how it always is. he flirts, he wins, he moves on. but this time, it feels different.

"i dunno," he mutters, eyes still locked on you. "but i wanna find out."

and just like that, park jongseong makes it his mission to make you fall for him.

whether you want to or not.

—

you’re starting to think the universe has a cruel sense of humor.

there’s no other explanation for why jay park keeps showing up everywhere you go.

first, it’s the café… again. you stop by for your usual iced americano, and there he is, leaning against the counter like he has all the time in the world. when he sees you, his lips curl into a smirk.

"you stalking me now?" he teases.

you blink at him. "this is literally my usual spot."

"yeah?" he muses, stepping aside so you can order. "funny. seems like it’s mine now too."

you ignore him and pay for your drink, but as you turn to leave, he suddenly holds out a muffin. "here."

you frown. "what is this?"

"peace offering," he says. "for annoying you so much."

"i don't want it."

jay tuts, shaking his head. "harsh. you don’t like sweets?"

"i don’t like you."

he laughs, completely unbothered. "that’s not true. you just won’t admit you think i’m funny."

you roll your eyes and walk past him, but not before he calls out, "see you around!"

unfortunately, he’s right.

the second time, it’s the library.

you’re sitting at a table, halfway through an essay, when someone slides into the seat across from you.

you don’t need to look up. "seriously?"

jay rests his chin on his palm, grinning. "seriously."

"do you even study?"

"i do now." he gestures to his laptop, which, sure enough, is open.

you sigh and turn back to your work, ignoring him completely. for the first ten minutes, he’s quiet, and you start to think maybe—just maybe—he’s actually here to study.

but then he leans forward. "you always this focused?"

"yes."

"cute," he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear.

you finally look at him, unimpressed. "why are you here?"

"what, a guy can’t expand his knowledge?"

"you haven’t typed a single word."

jay glances at his screen, where his essay is blank. he shrugs. "i’m thinking."

"about what?"

"about how long it’s gonna take for you to admit you like having me around."

you let out a slow breath, standing up and gathering your things. "good luck with that."

"where you going?"

"somewhere quiet."

jay watches you leave, the smirk never leaving his face.

you think that’s the end of it.

until your professor assigns a group project.

"you’ll be working in pairs," she says. "check the list for your partner."

you scan the names, looking for yours, and freeze.

park jongseong.

"you’ve got to be kidding me," you mutter.

"what?" minju asks, peering over your shoulder. then she snorts. "oh. wow. the universe really has it out for you."

you groan, dropping your head onto the desk.

"who’d you get?"

you glance up to see jisung standing beside you, holding his own paper.

"jay," minju answers for you.

jisung grimaces. "yikes."

"yep."

before you can say anything else, someone taps your shoulder.

"guess we’re partners," jay says, voice far too amused.

you sigh. "don’t remind me.”

—

working with jay is… not as painful as you expected.

you still don’t like him. obviously. but he’s not completely useless.

turns out, he’s actually smart. and organized. he doesn’t slack off or make you do all the work. and—annoyingly—he’s kind of funny.

you realize this when you’re both at the library, bouncing ideas off each other.

"okay, so we could go with this topic," you say, scrolling through the research.

jay hums. "or we could pick something that won’t make me want to throw myself off a building."

you bite back a smile. "dramatic much?"

"you’re underestimating my ability to get bored."

"i think that’s just your problem."

jay gasps, placing a hand over his chest. "ouch. i thought we were bonding."

"we’re working."

"same thing."

you shake your head, but you don’t argue.

slowly, things shift.

you still tell yourself that jay is just playing a game. but sometimes, you catch him looking at you—really looking—and for a moment, it doesn’t feel like one.

like when you’re at the library, and you yawn without thinking.

"tired?" he asks.

"obviously."

without a word, he slides his drink toward you.

you blink. "what—"

"it’s an americano," he says simply.

you hesitate, then take a sip. "it’s sweet."

jay shrugs. "i like sugar."

you give him a look. "so you were way off when you guessed my order last time."

he grins. "guess so."

you shake your head, but you don’t push the drink back.

—

"okay, so he’s not the worst person alive," you admit later.

minju stares at you. "who are you and what have you done with my friend?"

"i’m serious," you say. "he’s… fine. actually kind of helpful."

minju sighs. "that’s how it starts."

"how what starts?"

"you start thinking he’s not that bad. then, before you know it, you’re catching feelings."

"i’m not catching anything."

she gives you a look. "just be careful, okay? he’s only this persistent because you’re the first person to say no."

you nod, but her words stick in your head.

you tell yourself you don’t care.

but then one night, you’re leaving the library, and jay is waiting outside.

"walking alone at this hour?" he muses. "dangerous."

you raise an eyebrow. "and you’re what? my bodyguard?"

jay smirks. "i could be."

"no thanks."

"still," he says, falling into step beside you. "i’ll walk you back."

"you don’t have to."

"i know."

you sigh, but you let him.

the walk is quiet, save for the sound of your footsteps. when you reach your building, you stop.

"this is me," you say.

jay nods. "guess i’ll see you tomorrow."

"guess so."

he hesitates, then lifts a hand, ruffling your hair before you can react.

you blink. "what the—"

he just grins. "goodnight."

then he’s gone, leaving you standing there, heart doing something it definitely shouldn’t be doing.

this is bad.

really bad.

—

the next party is loud, too loud. music shakes the floor, conversations overlap, and the air is thick with the scent of alcohol and sweat. you don’t even know why you’re here.

well. you do.

minju dragged you out, saying you’ve been too cooped up with schoolwork and your stupid group project (which, unfortunately, includes jay park). jisung backed her up, insisting you needed to “socialize like a normal human being.”

so now you’re here, standing in the corner of someone’s crowded apartment, gripping a half-empty cup of soda because you don’t drink, and pretending you’re interested in whatever minju is talking about.

until you see him.

jay.

you tell yourself you shouldn’t be surprised. parties are his thing, after all. loud music, dim lighting, a sea of people who’d fall into his arms without hesitation.

he fits right in.

too well.

you spot him across the room, leaning against the wall, that lazy smirk on his lips. there’s a girl beside him, standing too close, laughing at something he just said. she tilts her head, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. jay doesn’t move away.

he says something else, something that makes her giggle, and then he leans in,,, just a little.

your stomach twists.

it’s stupid. so, so stupid.

this is what he does. this is who he is. he flirts with everyone. you’ve seen it before. you knew this about him before he even knew your name.

but tonight, it bothers you.

you don’t know why, and you don’t want to think about it.

"you okay?" minju asks, nudging your arm.

"yeah," you say too quickly. "just… tired."

she eyes you but doesn’t press. "wanna leave soon?"

you nod. "yeah."

but before you can say anything else, you feel a presence beside you.

"hey," a familiar voice says.

you turn, and there he is.

jay.

his smirk is gone.

"what do you want?" you ask, not in the mood for whatever game he’s playing tonight.

he hesitates, glancing at minju, then back at you. "can we talk?"

"no."

he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "please?"

minju looks between the two of you, then slowly backs away. "i’ll be over there," she says, pointing to jisung.

you cross your arms. "what?"

jay doesn’t answer right away. instead, he exhales, then jerks his head toward the door. "outside?"

you should say no. you should walk away. but there’s something in his eyes, something that makes your chest feel too tight, so you follow him out.

the cool night air is a relief against your heated skin. outside, the noise is muffled, distant, like the party belongs to a different world.

you stop a few steps away from the door, crossing your arms. "well?"

jay shoves his hands into his pockets. "you looked upset."

you scoff. "why do you care?"

"because," he says, stepping closer, "i do."

you laugh, but it’s humorless. "you flirt with someone else, then come running after me? what is this, jay?"

his jaw tightens. "it’s not like that."

"really? because it sure as hell looked like it."

"you think i do this with everyone?" his voice is sharper now, frustration leaking through. "yeah, i flirt, but this,whatever this is, is different, and you know it."

your breath catches.

different.

he said it first.

but that doesn’t change anything.

"do i?" you challenge. "because it looks exactly the same to me."

jay groans, running a hand through his hair. "i didn’t even realize what i was doing."

"that’s not making this better."

"i know!" he snaps. "i just—fuck."

he exhales, tilting his head back like he’s trying to find the right words in the sky. then, softer, he says, "it’s a habit, okay? flirting, keeping things surface-level. that’s just how i’ve always been."

you swallow, suddenly unsure. "then why are you here?"

jay takes another step forward, close enough that you can see the tension in his shoulders, the crease in his brows.

"because i don’t want this to be surface-level," he admits. "not with you."

the words knock the air out of your lungs.

for a moment, neither of you speak.

then you say, "so what? you want me to believe that you’re suddenly different?"

"i don’t know," he admits. "but i know i don’t want to fuck this up."

you stare at him, at the raw honesty in his expression.

this is dangerous territory.

you should walk away.

you don’t.

but then you think about that girl inside, the way he leaned in so easily, the way it took him this long to come after you.

"you say that," you murmur, voice quieter now, "but you still went back to your usual thing the second i wasn’t around."

jay flinches.

"it didn’t mean anything," he says, quickly, desperately. "i wasn’t even thinking about her."

"exactly," you say bitterly. "you weren’t thinking at all."

jay opens his mouth, then closes it.

"you don’t even realize what you’re doing," you continue, voice tight. "you don’t realize how easily you slip into old habits. you say this is different, but are you sure?"

"yes," jay says, without hesitation.

you laugh, but it’s broken. "then why do i feel like i’m just setting myself up to get hurt?"

he doesn’t have an answer for that.

silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating.

jay looks like he wants to say something, to fix this somehow, but what is there to fix? he’s still the same jay park who flirts with everyone, who doesn’t think before he acts, who only realizes too late that he might actually care.

"you’re not ready for this," you whisper.

"i am," he insists, but there’s something fragile in his voice, something that tells you even he isn’t sure if he’s telling the truth.

you shake your head. "i don’t think you are."

jay reaches out, just a little, like he wants to touch you, like he wants you to stay.

but you step back.

his hand drops.

and with that, you turn around and walk away.

jay doesn’t call after you.

he doesn’t chase you this time.

and maybe that tells you everything you need to know.

—

you avoid him.

it’s not hard at first. you’re in different years, different circles. you stop going to the café where you know he likes to hang out between classes, ignore the parties minju tries to drag you to, and duck your head whenever you spot him on campus.

the only problem is that jay notices.

you’re not sure when it happens, but at some point, jay park—fuckboy, campus heartbreaker, the guy who shouldn’t care—is suddenly watching you.

you feel it in the way his eyes linger too long when you pass by in the hallway, in the way his conversations falter when you’re around, in the way his whole demeanor shifts whenever you deliberately turn away.

he doesn’t chase after you.

but he’s not ignoring it, either.

and that’s what makes it worse.

it would be easier if he didn’t care, if he went right back to flirting with someone else like nothing ever happened. but he doesn’t.

and that terrifies you.

so you run faster.

"okay, what is wrong with you?"

jay exhales sharply, gripping the pool cue tighter. "nothing."

"bullshit."

heeseung snatches the stick out of his hands before he can even attempt a shot. jay scowls, reaching for it, but heeseung just leans away.

"bro, you’ve been in the worst mood for, like, a week," jake says, spinning an unmarked beer bottle between his fingers. "just admit it."

jay glares. "admit what?"

heeseung rolls his eyes. "that you’re being a little bitch about this whole thing."

jay scoffs. "about what?"

"oh my god," jake groans. "are you in denial, or just stupid?"

jay clenches his jaw. "neither."

heeseung and jake share a look, and jay hates that they’re silently communicating in that annoying, knowing way that only best friends do.

"listen," heeseung starts, "you don’t do feelings. we get it. but this? whatever’s happening between you and—"

"don’t say their name," jay mutters, looking away.

heeseung smirks. "oh, so you do care?"

jay exhales, tilting his head back against the worn leather of the booth.

fuck.

he doesn’t know what this is.

he just knows that it sucks.

he didn’t think avoiding them would be a big deal. people walk away from him all the time, sometimes before he can even do it first.

but this?

this feels different.

it feels like something is missing. like something is slipping through his fingers and he’s too fucking slow to catch it.

"you don’t even like people," jake points out.

jay sighs. "i like you guys."

"yeah, but we don’t count," heeseung snorts. "we’re basically required to deal with your bullshit."

jay scoffs, shoving his shoulder, but heeseung just grins.

then, quieter, he says, "this is the first time you’ve actually looked miserable over someone."

jay doesn’t answer.

"so what are you gonna do about it?" jake asks.

jay exhales, drumming his fingers against the table.

he doesn’t know.

but he knows he can’t keep pretending this is nothing.

not anymore.

—

you don’t know why you look.

it’s just a normal afternoon. you’re heading toward the library, minju walking beside you, talking about something jisung said earlier.

and then you see him.

jay is standing near the campus courtyard, golden light catching the sharp edges of his jawline. he’s not alone.

there’s a girl with him. she’s standing close—too close. her hand is on his arm, fingers curling lightly around the sleeve of his jacket. she laughs at something he says, head tilting, eyes locked on his.

and jay?

jay just smiles.

it’s the same smile you’ve seen before, the same effortless charm, the same easy confidence that has made him a campus legend. he leans in slightly, talking low, his posture relaxed like he’s done this a thousand times.

because he has.

your chest tightens.

"hey, you okay?" minju asks beside you, nudging your arm.

you snap your gaze away, pulse quickening. you shouldn’t care. you knew what he was like before you even met him. you knew he flirted with anyone he found attractive, that he never had to try, that he never faced rejection.

you knew he was never meant to be serious.

so why does it feel like something inside you is caving in?

"yeah," you mumble. "just remembered something i have to do."

minju frowns, but you don’t give her a chance to question it. before she can say anything, you turn and walk the other way, ignoring the burning feeling in your chest.

you don’t look back.

and jay doesn’t notice you leaving.

yet, jay can tell something’s wrong.

he doesn’t know what it is, but he can feel it.

it’s in the way you won’t look at him, the way you walk past him like he’s just another face in the crowd.

at first, he thinks he’s imagining it. you were never friends to begin with—maybe you were just busy, maybe this is normal.

but the shift is undeniable.

before, you’d at least acknowledge him. you’d give him a polite nod, a passing glance, sometimes even a subtle eyeroll when you caught him flirting.

now?

nothing.

he sees you on campus, and you don’t even flinch.

he walks past your usual café, and you’re not there.

he catches you in the library and for a second. just a second. he swears you meet his gaze.

but then you turn away.

like he’s not even there.

he doesn’t plan to confront you.

but after a week of this, of whatever this is, he finds himself standing outside your dorm, hands shoved in his pockets, frustration bubbling under his skin.

he doesn’t even know why he’s here.

it’s not like you owe him anything.

but still, he knocks.

no answer.

he exhales sharply, rocking back on his heels, debating whether to try again.

then, he hears footsteps.

"what are you doing here?"

jay turns, finding jisung standing a few feet away, arms crossed.

"looking for y/n," jay says. "they’ve been… acting weird."

jisung raises an eyebrow. "and you just noticed?"

jay frowns. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

jisung exhales, shaking his head. "they saw you," he says simply.

jay’s stomach tightens. "...what?"

"the other day. in the courtyard. with that girl."

jay blinks, the memory slotting into place. shit.

"they saw you smiling at her," jisung continues, his voice even but firm. "letting her touch you. looking at her the way they thought—" he stops himself, sighing. "never mind."

jay’s pulse kicks up. "you think they—"

"they think they were stupid for believing you might actually be different with them," jisung cuts in, sharper now. "they think they almost fell for the same bullshit you pull on everyone else."

jay clenches his jaw.

fuck.

he wasn’t thinking. he didn’t even realize.

but now, remembering the moment, the way the girl had laughed, the way she had leaned in, the way he hadn’t pulled away—

he understands.

and it feels like he just lost something important without even knowing he had it.

"if you’re gonna say something, make it worth their time," jisung says. "because right now? they don’t want anything to do with you."

jay doesn’t answer.

because for the first time in his life, he’s the one who got it wrong.

he’s the one who let something real slip through his fingers.

and he has no idea how to fix it.

but he knows one thing—

he has to try.

—

you don’t expect him to be waiting for you.

it’s late. you just finished a study session with minju, and all you want is to go back to your dorm, crawl under the covers, and forget about everything—forget about him.

but as soon as you step into the dimly lit hallway leading to your room, you see him.

jay.

leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, jaw tight, eyes dark with something unreadable.

your heart stutters.

you hesitate, debating whether to turn around, pretend you didn’t see him. but then he looks up—really looks at you—and you know there’s no escape.

"we need to talk," he says, pushing off the wall.

fuck jisung for letting him in.

"i don’t think we do," you mutter, stepping past him, reaching for your door.

but before you can, jay moves, his hand catching your wrist—gently, cautiously, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

"please," he says.

you freeze.

he’s never said please before. at least, not like this. not as desperate as this.

slowly, you turn to face him, sighing. "jay—"

"just let me say this," he cuts in, eyes burning with something raw, something you’ve never seen on him before. desperation.

you press your lips together but nod.

jay exhales, running a hand through his hair. "i—fuck, i don’t know how to do this," he mutters, shaking his head. "i’m not good at this."

"then don’t," you say, voice sharper than you intended. "don’t stand here and feed me some excuse about how you 'don’t do relationships' or 'didn’t mean to hurt me.' i don’t want to hear it."

jay flinches. "that’s not what i was gonna say."

you cross your arms. "then what?"

he swallows hard, eyes flickering to the floor before meeting yours again. "i—i don’t know how to do this, because i’ve never felt like this before."

your breath catches.

"i didn’t even realize what i was doing," jay continues, voice quieter now. "i didn’t think. i’ve never had to. flirting, messing around—it’s just… easy. but you—" he exhales sharply. "you make things different."

you shake your head. "jay—"

"i don’t want anyone else," he interrupts, stepping closer, voice steady. "just you."

your chest tightens.

"and when you get bored?" you ask, voice barely above a whisper. "when someone new comes along?"

jay shakes his head immediately. "i don’t think i could ever get bored of you."

it’s too much.

too much to believe, too much to trust, too much to risk.

"how am i supposed to believe that?" you ask, eyes searching his face. "how am i supposed to believe you won’t wake up one day and decide i was just another name on your list?"

jay exhales, stepping even closer, until there’s barely any space between you. "because no one’s ever made me feel like this before."

your pulse is loud in your ears.

"i don’t know how to do relationships," he admits, voice low, honest. "i don’t know how to be what you deserve. but i want to try. i want to figure it out—with you."

he’s so close now. close enough that you can smell the faint scent of his cologne, close enough that you can see the hesitation in his eyes, the fear of being rejected, of losing you.

you shouldn’t.

you should walk away.

you should protect yourself, guard your heart, not fall for the one person who could break you the easiest.

but then jay reaches up, fingers brushing against your cheek, his touch hesitant, almost trembling.

"please," he murmurs, his voice almost breaking.

jay park—unshakable, confident, the fuckboy—is breaking in front of you.

and against all logic, all reason—you fall.

before you can think, before you can stop yourself, you close the space between you.

his breath catches, just for a second, before his lips press against yours, warm and desperate.

jay kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, like he’s trying to prove every word he just said. his hands cup your face, pulling you closer, holding you like you’re something fragile—something precious.

and when you kiss him back, letting yourself believe—just for this moment—that maybe, just maybe, this could be real, he sighs against your lips, like he’s just found something he’s been searching for all along.

—

your relationship with jay park is different.

you knew it wouldn’t be easy, falling for someone who never had to try, who never had to work for love. but you never expected this.

never expected him to try so hard.

at first, it’s awkward. jay doesn’t know what he’s doing. he’s used to effortless flirting, meaningless hookups, relationships that start and end in the span of a night.

but with you?

he wants to be better. he wants to be different.

so he does things he’s never done before.

he waits for you after class, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, eyes lighting up when he sees you.

"did you eat?" he asks one day, falling into step beside you.

you blink. "uh… yeah?"

jay nods, looking relieved. "okay. cool. just—yeah. cool."

he’s awkward. jay park, campus fuckboy, the smooth talker who never falters, is awkward.

you bite back a smile. "did you eat?"

he hesitates.

you raise an eyebrow. "jay."

he clears his throat. "…no."

you sigh, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him toward the campus café. he lets you, grinning like you just gave him the world.

the first time he reaches for your hand, it’s so casual that you almost miss it.

you’re sitting next to each other, watching a movie in the dorm common room. your hand rests between you, fingers brushing against his.

then, slowly, hesitantly, jay links his pinky with yours.

your heart stutters.

you glance at him, but he’s staring straight at the screen, his jaw tight, his ears slightly red.

you bite your lip.

then, without a word, you let your fingers slip fully into his.

jay stiffens for half a second. then, his grip tightens, and he exhales, shoulders relaxing.

he doesn’t let go for the rest of the movie.

he’s not used to jealousy.

or rather, he’s not used to his own jealousy.

he’s seen people get possessive over him before, watched girls glare when he flirted with someone new, felt the heat of their disappointment when they realized he wasn’t theirs.

but now?

now he understands.

he understands because he’s standing in the middle of campus, watching some guy—some random guy—smile at you like he has a chance.

and jay hates it.

he crosses the distance before he can think, sliding an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his side.

"hey, baby," he murmurs, voice low, casual, possessive.

your eyes widen. "jay?"

"who’s this?" jay asks, looking at the guy.

the guy blinks, glancing between the two of you. "uh, just—just a classmate."

jay smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. "cool. yeah. we gotta go, though."

you barely have time to say goodbye before jay is leading you away, his grip firm but gentle.

once you’re out of earshot, you elbow him. "what was that?"

jay shrugs. "didn’t like the way he was looking at you."

you roll your eyes. "you can’t just—"

he stops walking, turning to face you, eyes serious. "i know i don’t have the right," he admits. "but i don’t like it. i don’t like the idea of someone else thinking they can have you."

your breath catches.

"you’re mine," jay says, voice softer now. "right?"

you stare at him for a moment.

then, finally, you sigh, reaching up to flick his forehead.

"yeah," you mutter. "i’m yours."

jay grins, rubbing his forehead. "damn right."

heeseung and jake pretend to be disgusted.

"you’re whipped," jake says, shaking his head.

"nah, man, this is worse than we thought," heeseung adds. "he’s holding hands in public."

jay glares at them from across the table, but he doesn’t let go of your hand.

"you guys are just mad i have a functional love life," he says.

jake snorts. "yeah, sure. functional."

"bet he calls them ‘baby’ over text," heeseung whispers loudly.

jake gasps. "you think he—"

"shut up," jay groans.

you’re trying not to laugh. "do you?"

jay glares at you, but his ears are red. "i hate you."

you grin. "you love me."

jay rolls his eyes.

but then, under the table, he gives your hand a squeeze.

and you know—

even if he’ll never admit it out loud—

he really does.

—

you constantly look back and don’t know when you started believing him.

maybe it was the first time he held your hand without thinking, his fingers curling around yours so naturally, like he didn’t need to pretend anymore.

or maybe it was when he let you steal his hoodie, even though you were sure he’d never let anyone do that before.

or maybe—just maybe—it was when you saw the way he looked at you.

because it’s different now.

jay park, the guy who used to flirt with anyone just for fun, the guy who never stuck around, only looks at you.

"okay, but seriously," jake says, pointing a fry at jay. "how the hell did this happen?"

you’re sitting in the corner booth of a diner near campus, squeezed between jay and the wall. heeseung and jake are across from you, both staring like you’re some kind of unsolvable mystery.

jay takes a slow sip of his drink. "what do you mean?"

"you!" heeseung gestures wildly. "relationship jay. committed jay. ‘not flirting with every breathing human’ jay."

"it’s called growth," jay deadpans.

"it’s called ‘i fell first, and i fell hard,’" jake teases, smirking.

jay huffs. "whatever, man."

but he doesn’t deny it.

heeseung leans forward, grinning. "okay, but who confessed first?"

jay opens his mouth—

"me, obviously," you interrupt.

jay’s head snaps toward you. "what?"

you shrug. "you’re a coward. took you forever to admit you liked me."

jake laughs. "ohhh, he got you there."

jay glares at you, but you just smile, nudging his foot under the table.

you laugh, “joking, it’s complicated.”

heeseung rests his chin in his palm. "man, i never thought i’d see the day."

"what day?" you ask, amused.

"the day jay park became a simp."

jay groans, burying his face in his hands. "i hate all of you."

you pat his arm. "no, you don’t."

he exhales, tilting his head to look at you. his eyes soften.

"yeah," he murmurs. "i don’t."

—

later that night, after jay walks you back to your dorm, you linger outside the door.

he doesn’t leave right away.

instead, he leans against the wall, hands in his pockets, just looking at you.

you tilt your head. "what?"

jay hesitates, then exhales sharply.

"it’s weird," he mutters. "this whole time, i thought i had everything figured out. i thought i knew what i wanted. but then you came along, and suddenly, nothing made sense anymore."

your chest tightens.

"i didn’t get it at first," jay continues, eyes flickering to the ground. "why i got so annoyed when you ignored me. why i kept looking for you in every room. why i couldn’t flirt with anyone else without feeling like it was wrong."

he finally meets your gaze.

"but now i do."

your fingers tighten around the door handle, heartbeat loud in your ears.

"i don’t want to be the guy i was before," he murmurs. "not with you."

you swallow. "jay—"

"i know i’m not good at this," he cuts in. "i know i’m gonna mess up. i know i don’t deserve you."

his voice drops lower, almost hesitant. almost afraid.

"but i want to try. and i want you to let me."

for a moment, neither of you speak.

then, finally—

you sigh, shaking your head. "god, you’re such an idiot."

jay blinks. "huh?"

you step forward, grabbing the collar of his hoodie and pulling him down until your foreheads touch.

"you’ve had me this whole time," you murmur.

jay’s breath stutters.

then, slowly—hesitantly—his arms wrap around you, holding you against him, warm and real.

"yeah?" he whispers.

you nod. "yeah."

jay exhales a shaky laugh, squeezing you tighter.

"thank god," he mutters. "i don’t think i could’ve handled losing you."

you smile against his shoulder.

neither could you.

[refreshingly-original]

I lied, I need an oblivious witch reader (apprentice?) fic where Lilia is just so fucking smitten for them, and is slightly more touchy than what we see in the show because of it.

Because reader wants to understand, and learn how best to help her, they tend to ask a million questions, and pretty much is glued to her side.

Reader always tells her what happens when she gets visions, and when they’re on the road, reader makes sure she writes it down if she hears them, along with what was happening at the time, and shows them to her because she knows Lilia doesn’t want to talk about them with the others around.

Like everyone in the coven sees how Lilia feels and teases/taunts her for it, but that also goes over readers head, but when they call her names and that, reader always, always jumps to her defence and she just falls even further. Because no one in a very long time has cared enough, or gotten close enough, to defend her against the assholes who think her a batty old broad.

Someone, prolly Jen or Agatha call reader Lilia’s lapdog because they’re always following her around, and reader just, “Well yeah, aside from maybe Alice, she’s the only person here who’s deserving of my effort and time.”

100% everyone thinks, at first, that Lilia doesn’t even know/remember readers name because she just keeps calling them baby, even in the most serious of moments.

I don’t know how she servives, but she does okay.

[jd-loves-fiction]

Hey there! I might have an oddly specific request, but like. I am craving a trope but I am too lazy to write anything myself. Feel free to not accept this :"D

Could you write maybe like a *micro* oneshot about Boothill finding his past lover (from before his planet got nuked), but here's the thing, the lover did an ftm transition, so Boothill may have not realised at first.

And secondly, there is a child. Boothill's, but he had no idea.

The circumstances under what they reconnect is up to you. Wether it's fluff or angst, also.

Thank you in advance, cool writer person!<3

🌑felt that first part😭 ALSO this idea is so good rAAAH I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT IIITT (idk if this sucks but i hope i did this wonderful idea justice my dear, i poured all my love into this ���️)

ALSO ALSO listened to 'Would you fall in love with me again' on loop writing this cuz the vibes are immaculate :)

Warnings: Spoilers for Boothill's backstory, mention of reader pre-transition as 'her' once but by male descriptors everwhere else, I have no experience writing ftm reader's so forgive my ignorance and let me know if I did good if you can 🥺

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 / 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠

The saloon is lively, crowded, not Boothill’s usual scene but fate or whatever sorry god is in charge of his path brought him here. His mission is complete and he’s exhausted – so out drinking he goes, even though he can barely feel the drink’s effects anymore. He supposes it must be the principle of the thing, a sort of tradition that helps him not lose his mind along the way.

Boothill scans the room by instinct, seeing dancing couples fill the entire room up to the corners – some slowly, some so fast it’s as if the universe is about to implode. A flash of a memory stings at the back of his brain, but he ignores it.

“Uhm! Mister!” Chirps a high pitched voice from below, clearly directed at himself. Looking down he spots a chubby-faced little girl, at which he raises a brow. Why a girl her age would ever think to approach him of all people in the saloon, he cannot imagine.

“Can you help me up, please? I wanna ask for some water,” she asks, polite but determined.

“Oh, well of course little lady!” He responds, gently holding her up and placing her onto the stool, once the cloud of nostalgia is gone from before his eyes. She just looks so familiar… The particular shade of brown of her eyes–

“Thank you mister!” The girl says brightly, sitting all cute and proper as Boothill waves the barkeep over, “It’s no trouble. Whatcha doin’ here, anyway? Y’ain’t alone, right?”

“Oh no mister, I’m here with my papa!” She replies cheerfully, pointing to the center of the room where the most people gather. Between swaying bodies he finds who she points at – twirling a giggling old lady is who Boothill suspects is the girl’s ‘papa’.

The cyborg cowboy no longer has a heart, nor a chest really, but it feels as if it stops in that moment. You don't spot him yet, lost as you are in your own little world, twirling around as sweat builds at your hairline.

But to Boothill everyone else fades as the pieces click into place – a grassfield beneath a starry sky, the love of his life before him, his flesh and bone hands around her blushing face… your face… no matter how you’ve changed, it’s you, he’d recognize you anywhere.

He must be seeing ghosts, surely. The girl’s father must just look like you, that’s it, it has to be, you’re dead… you have to be.

But Boothill knows in his soul that it is. You’re right there, dancing without a care in the world, changed and yet the same.

“Mister?” The little girl to him again, grasping at one of his sleeves and he turns. Her eyes, that particular shade of brown… it’s his, from when he was still flesh and blood. His head hurts. He feels drunk and crazy, maybe he should stop drinking after missions.

“There you are! You should’ve told me you wanted to rest,” You lightheartedly tell the girl, panting as you wipe sweat from your brow. From this close he’s sure it’s you, but Boothill still feels a little crazy for his thoughts. “Made a friend–?!”

The moment your eyes meet his, Boothill is finally sure it’s you. And he can tell you remember him too. Both of you seem stuck in time, gazing at each other like you’ve seen a ghost, which maybe you have, all things considered. The both of you should be dead.

Your mouth opens to speak but no words come out and you’re aching for a glass of water of your own. He’s here, alive and…

“You’ve… changed.” Boothill says lamely – so many things he wants to say, things he should’ve said long ago, things he would’ve said if he knew you were alive all this time.

“S-So have you!” Your voice cracks as you gawk at him, “You’re all… metal?”

Boothill chuckles, nerves eased by the familiarity that settles over the two of you – seems you haven't changed where it counts. “Yeah… it’s a long story.”

“Well, all I have is time.” He can tell you’re still upset with him, perhaps you will be for a while– heck! He’s upset with himself! He should’ve gone back for you, checked, double checked, triple checked!

“Just tell me one thing first;” The cyborg asks, watching as the girl sprints off towards who he assumes is a friend of hers, “Is she…” he points at himself.

“... Yeah. Her name’s Julia.” You tell him, sitting where she was, shoulders still tense as you watch him closely. He’s still as handsome as always, more rugged perhaps, more tired and grim, but the sight of his face still makes your heart stutter with affection. 

Boothill sighs heavily at the information, like the air’s been punched from his lungs, slumping over the bar and covering his eyes. You, alone as your planet burned while he went off to punish the ones who did it, was a heartbreaking enough picture to paint, but with a child? His child?

If they hadn't taken his tear ducts, he’d be filling the saloon up to the ceiling with his tears.

“Hey now, you can cry about it later, ok?” You say awkwardly, knowing you might start crying too if he does. 

He does as you ask, finally raising his head to look at you properly. You’re as beautiful as he remembers, of course you are. You could never stop looking so unfairly stunning to him, never.

Squirming in place as his cybernetic lock onto you, you feel the need to fill the empty space between you – as much as you wish to act like nothing had changed, a lot had, “How did you… recognize me?”

He finds it to be an odd question, of course he’d recognize you, yours is the only face he seems when he closes his eyes, haunting the few dreams he does have like a siren’s song beckoning him to linger within the memories of a better life before he became what he is now, “Y’haven’t changed that much.”

You blink at him, suddenly self-conscious, “... haven't I?”

Oh no, you look upset. He should’ve just said what he was thinking instead of whatever that was, “I– I didn't mean it like– I mean, you look great! Fudge I–”

You’re laughing, open and bright and lovely. Laughing at him no doubt, but laughing, “W-what– why do you– Fudge?”

“Ah, well, that’s part of that long story I told ya’bout.” He replies bashfully, because yeah, it would be strange to hear that coming out of his mouth to you.

Catching your breath and wiping the tears from your eyes, you smile fondly at the cowboy, “Sounds to me like we have some catching up to do.”

The farm boy in him wishes still that nothing had changed, that he could wake up from his dream and lay in the field beneath the stars again, hold you against his warm chest like always and have no IPC blood caked under his metaphorical nails, only dirt and sand from a hard day’s work. But the galaxy ranger he is now likes it better this way – change is inevitable and all things considered, this is one of the more fortunate outcomes of your story. 

You’ve both changed, but not where really it counts.

“That we do, sweetheart.”

[afyrian]

☆ coffee orders w/ msby | headcanons

m.list

atsumu miya

- tends to choose coffee on the sweeter side - enjoys creamers and vanilla syrup - gets sugar free to convince his team it’s a ‘healthy’ addition to his breakfast - tried to drink dark black coffee for most of secondary school - thought it made him look cool - ‘one large black coffee… very grown up of me, huh?’ [atsumu] - until one faithful day you suggested he go for something lighter - you served him up black coffee once and every drink he took brought a frown to his face - so, with your recommendation, he goes off the deep end - cold foam, extra vanilla, creamer, everything - in which you had to advise him to tone it down - ‘maybe let’s just start with a little creamer and a little sugar’ [you] - ‘alright, if you think that’s best for me’ [atsumu] - and it ultimately was - now every time he walks into your coffee shop, you make a point to have it ready for him - even if it six in the morning

sakusa kiyoomi

- surprisingly enjoys a little sweetness - even if he doesn’t give off those vibes - usually he prefers a blonde roast with some sweetener - he enters the coffee shop and leaves promptly - never giving time for conversation or exploration - so you quickly start making his order every time he comes in - and he would have his money ready every time - until one morning he comes in and an outlet went up in flames and all the coffee machines couldn’t be used - ‘i’m so sorry, but we’re going to have to close for the day and get stuff fixed… since you’re already here i could grab a pastry for you’ [you] - ‘uh- yeah sure’ [sakusa] - it brought about a new friendship for you - he still ordered the same old thing - but he kept a conversation with you - asked how your morning has gone or if you have any plans - finally you convinced yourself to write your name on his coffee cup - which he messaged just a few minutes after

bokuto kotaro

- doesn’t really drink coffee - he typically enjoys a smoothie - mixed with an assortment of fruits and protein powders - bokuto also likes to get a muffin occasionally, popping by your shop - however, if he’s running late he’ll grab a coffee and muffin from you - typically it’s something small - usually an espresso or americano - ‘no smoothie, so you want an espresso?’ [you] - ‘yes, that would be great! i have a long practice ahead’ [bokuto] - on the mornings he has off or late, he loves to chat with you - really with anyone working or standing in line - he creates a small community everywhere he goes - to the point he recognizes multiple regulars - ‘so, you go to all these practices, what do you do it for?’ [you] - ‘volleyball! i have an extra ticket to this upcoming tournament, why don’t you come’ [bokuto] - and you could never say no to him

hinata shoyo

- loooves coffee - after living in brazil he got hooked on all kinds of coffee - can drink anything from black coffee to nearly pure milk or creamer - as long as it’s not decaf he is happy - usually brews his own coffee - however, since they started doing early mornings for practice he’s started buying out - not caring to clean it after use - purposefully got a cup holder for his bike - enjoys it when you write sweet messages on the cups - usually something along the lines of ‘you got this!’ - he can’t write his own notes so he likes to give you quick comments - ‘this coffee is the best! thanks for recommending it!’ [hinata] - all while running out the door - hinata always has time to chat on the weekends though - sitting at the closest table - eating some pastry taking way too long - what he doesn’t want to tell you is that he’s contemplating asking you out - and chickening out every time

gen. taglist (open): @maybespiderman @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@nekozaki @nnnyxie @kameyyy @cherrysurf

[uceyliyahh]

SNEAKY LINK

Summary: After having a one night stand with each other Kiyana and Jey decided to become sneaky links until she grew attached to him will he be able to feel the same as her?

smut warning; it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I’m improving at the moment.

Jey Uso x Kiyana

word count: 5063

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

But I’ll be writing along the way since this story is in my drafts on Wattpad right now so yuh. 💁🏽‍♀️

TAGS ⬇�� lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️@pinkwithhearts @420days @jstarr86 @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign @clubsoft

@bebesobrielo @skyesthebomb @aikosilo @papireigns-05 @punksyeet @paigereeder @magnificentbouquetmusic @tribalhoochie

@charmed-dreamssss @fearlesschimera @partypoison00 @mselenalovebug @bloodlinesbabe93 @justazzi @xbriexx @luvrsluxe @celesteheartsjey @4milly @luuvprincess @yyaktayak @yana3sworld @raya-hunter01 @lilucey @soccergirlbae

Ø3

"I just want you to be careful sis, I know he's my best friend but if he hurts you I'll end up hurting him,"

"You know I can take care of you better than that Uso over there,"

"Let's go out for dinner sweetheart,"

"The fuck is yo' problem Kiyana?"

KIYANA Today marks a significant moment for me as I prepare to strut down the runway for the fashion show. To say I'm feeling nervous would be an understatement; it's been quite some time since I last walked a runway—around three years, in fact. The anticipation for tonight is building, and I can't help but feel a mix of excitement and anxiety.

I had no photoshoots scheduled today because Nathan insisted I concentrate on my runway performance for tonight's fashion show. So, I spent the day at home, enjoying some healthy snacks while watching TV. Suddenly, my phone buzzed, and I picked it up to find a message from Liv.

IMESSAGE 💬 Liv🌸: heyyyy girly tonight is your night girl how are you feeling? Yana💗: I'm feeling pretty nervous for today you know just gives me the jitters Liv🌸: you got this girl, I heard it was going to be a lot of folks there too so you better work girl Yana💗: thanks girly you're so supportive of me Liv🌸: you're my best friend ofc I'm going to support you in the end girl, so what's tea? Yana💗: about? Liv🌸: you and Jey what's happening? Yana💗: nothing really he's been sending me gifts lately and spoiling me like I'm his girl when he's dealing with someone already ain't that weird? Liv🌸: yeah that's weird he should be spoiling Jaida and not you Yana💗: I mean I don't mind it but it's too much honestly you know? Liv🌸: yeah especially yall aren't a couple only sneaky links Yana💗: idk if he's tryna put me in that category of women but it's not happening Liv🌸: I understand so how are you truly feeling about this? Like be honest with me Yana💗: if I'm being honest with you I might have caught feelings for him but it comes and goes especially when I realize that he's dealing with her all those feelings go away Liv🌸: so basically losing and gaining feelings for him again? Yana I don't want this to ruin your mental you're a sweet girl who deserves someone to love on you not just someone who fucks you whenever they please. Yana💗: I hear you bestie but I'm focused on my career that's important to me and whatever he got goin on is none of my business Liv🌸: period I'm glad this whole situation is not tearing you down and I think Cody knows about it... Yana💗: WHAT? Liv🌸: yeah he asked me about today at work I told him I don't what's happening between you and his best friend so he said he'll swing by to see you Yana💗: damn it...I mean he's my brother older brother at that he has every right to know so I'll just talk to him about it. Liv🌸: alrighty girl lmk how it goes and I'll see you tonight! Love you Yana💗: love you too

I was caught off guard by Cody's awareness of the situation. It's likely he saw the pictures of Jey and me shared with my close friends. I should have removed him from that list to prevent this from happening. I set my phone aside and focused on my meal, patiently waiting for Cody to arrive so we could discuss the unfolding drama between Jey and me.

I haven't received any word from him since his visit a few days back, but honestly, I don't mind at all. He's not my partner, and I certainly wasn't his girlfriend—it's as straightforward as that. While enjoying my meal, I heard a knock at the door. Recognizing it was Cody, I paused my show and made my way to the door.

As I swung the door open, I was greeted by the sight of my big brother, a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a warm smile on his face. He stepped inside, handing me the flowers with a cheerful demeanor, and I placed them gently on the table.

We settled onto opposite ends of the couch, my legs crossed as I patiently awaited his words.

"Hey, my wonderful sister how are you feeling for today?" Cody asked.

I sighed deeply, "if I'm being honest, I feel nervous for tonight brother," I said.

"You'll do great tonight out there sis even mom will be proud of you when she sees you," I gave him a smile knowing that my brother got my back.

"So what's goin on between you and Jey Yana?" I knew he was going to get straight to it I couldn't lie to my brother that's his best friend of course, "We are just messing around with each other," His facial expressions changed into a confusing one.

"Don't beat around the bush with it sis I understand you're a grown woman,"

I shared with him the story of my night at the club with Jey, revealing how I ended up losing my virginity to him in his hotel room. I also mentioned that Jey and I have developed a secret connection, navigating our relationship as sneaky links.

"Sneaky links?" He asked as I nodded my head.

"Yeah, but we get to live our lives separately and have no strings attached," I said.

"I just want you to be careful sis, I know he's my best friend but if he hurts you I'll end up hurting him," I can understand where my brother was coming from he's been protecting me all of his life since we were kids since we didn't have a father in our lives Cody would do anything for me.

"I understand brother I'm very focused on my career right now and not worried about what he has going on with his shawty," Cody gave me a faint smile knowing that I wasn't letting this get to me especially mentally.

I must admit that I had a bit of a crush on him, but as I explained to Liv, my feelings were quite inconsistent. I realized that he likely didn't share the same feelings, especially considering his current situation with Jaida.

I refused to let myself be foolish over something unattainable and not rightfully mine, so I couldn't understand why he was so worked up about it. Cody lingered a bit longer to fill me in on his journey in wrestling and his rise to becoming a champion, and I couldn't be prouder of him.

I've been caught up in my modeling career lately, which has kept me out of the loop with all the wrestling happenings. Thankfully, my brother has been there to fill me in on everything. After a while, I received a message from Jey himself, but I made him wait while I listened to my brother's updates.

My phone buzzed incessantly with his messages, reminiscent of a needy boyfriend craving attention, prompting me to roll my eyes and silence the notifications.

"Is that Jey texting you?" Cody asked.

"Yeah, but I didn't want to be rude since you were talking to me about what's been happening," I said.

"It's all good little sis, just see what he wants," I pulled out my phone seeing messages from him.

Big Papa😩 sent four messages

Big Papa😩: wya mama? Big Papa😩: I miss you today is your big day Big Papa😩: I'll be there after I deal with things with shawty Big Papa😩: You ignoring me?

IMESSAGE 💬 Yana💗: no I wasn't ignoring you sir I was busy talking to my brother Big Papa😩: Aw Aight I was just making sure Yana💗: even if I was it would be for a good reason but I don't have a good reasoning right now Big Papa😩: mhm wya tho? Yana💗: I'm at home eating something healthy and talking to Cody Big Papa😩: why you didn't tell me Cody was your brother? Yana💗: you never asked? 🤨 Big Papa😩: don't get smart little girl Yana💗: whatever nigga what you want actually? Big Papa😩: I'm tryna see you I know you miss me Yana💗: I miss the thought of you 😭 Big Papa😩: you don't be saying that when I be fucking you screaming daddy this and daddy that Yana💗: 🙄 Big Papa😩: that's what I thought now lemme come see you Yana💗: you gon have to wait until Cody leaves Big Papa😩: that's my dawg he already know what's happening between us Yana💗: I mean I already told him our situation..he's very protective over me so be careful just saying Big Papa😩: why? It's not like I'm hurting you or anything we aren't a couple just giving each other what we need.

Ouch well that makes great sense to me.

Yana💗: yeah, ofc even when I'm not in the mood you got someone to help you out with that 😭😭 Big Papa😩: you been talking reckless what's up with that? Yana💗: no reason Big Papa😩: mhm I'm otw Yana💗: k

 I set my phone aside, rolling my eyes as I noticed the worry etched on Cody's face. "Are you okay, Yana?" he asked, his concern evident. I nodded and offered him a reassuring smile.

"Yeah, it seems like Jey is coming over to see me," I said.

"That's good I could speak to him before approaching you," he said.

I anticipated this situation, but I have no complaints. After all, he's my brother, and it's only natural for him to look out for his little sister.

"You wanna watch this show with me while we wait on him?"

"Yeah, let's go ahead and watch it," Cody said as I unpaused the show.

༊*·˚

JEY Kiyana's behavior has changed noticeably since my visit to her house a few days ago. I couldn't quite grasp the reason behind it; I initially thought she was simply prioritizing her career over the complications with me and Jaida.

I understand that she's likely feeling anxious about her fashion show tonight, so I decided not to press her about her unusual behavior and the reckless things she's been saying to me. As I arrived at her house and noticed Cody's car parked beside hers, I turned off my engine and stepped out, making my way to the front door.

I rapped on the door, anticipating either her or Cody to answer. As I waited, I scrolled through my social media, liking various pictures, particularly those from Jaida's profile. It was during this time that I noticed Kiyana had recently updated her story.

yanasworld posted on their story!

I was really taken aback by that tweet she shared in her story. What on earth was she trying to convey? Is there a deeper reason for her behavior, or is she simply indifferent to the situation?

I couldn't believe my eyes as the door swung open, revealing Cody with a bright smile. It looked like he was about to head out, but then he unexpectedly pulled me aside. What could his intentions be?

"What's up Uce," I said.

Cody stated, "I understand the dynamics between you and my sister, but I need to emphasize something important. Don't allow this situation to jeopardize her career; there will be repercussions. She has an incredibly promising future ahead, and I can't stand by while my best friend puts that at risk."

My face twisted in confusion when he said that. "What do you mean by that? I'm not trying to hurt her; I'm just enjoying myself," I argued.

"It's important to be mindful of her feelings. As her brother, I understand how sensitive she can be, always longing for things she can't have. So, please, do me a favor and tread lightly." I completely get where he's coming from; if I had a sister in Kiyana's position, I would want to protect her just the same.

As he approached his car, we embraced warmly before he climbed inside. I turned and walked into the house, noticing Kiyana was nowhere to be found. After shutting the door behind me, I slipped off my shoes and neatly placed them on the shoe rack. Then, I made my way upstairs to her bedroom.

As I opened the door, I found her nestled in bed, curled up tightly under the blankets, seemingly engrossed in her phone. I slipped into the bed beside her, gently wrapping my arms around her waist, which made her flinch at my unexpected touch.

"Jesus, Jey you can't be sneaking up on folks like that boy," I laughed as she spoke, gently flipping her around so that she could look at me directly.

I found myself captivated by every detail of her face, gently resting my hand on her cheek and stroking it softly with my thumb. Her smile, which I cherished deeply, lit up the moment. Yet, a part of me recognized that this was merely playful banter; after all, I had Jaida waiting for me at home.

I pressed my lips gently against hers, and to my surprise, she leaned in, drawing her body closer to mine. As we began to kiss passionately, I realized this was a new experience for me. I had never been this tender with her before, perhaps influenced by the words Cody shared with me before he departed.

As our mouths intertwined, my tongue danced within hers while her fingers glided through my mullet. I reveled in the sensation of my hands roaming over her body, firmly grasping her curves. It was a passionate struggle, our tongues vying for control in a heated exchange.

I dragged her onto my lap, straddling me, and as she ground against me, I planted nothing but moist kisses on her neck, causing her to moan softly in my ear, which made my dick rise in my perspiration.

As our lips lingered in a passionate embrace, a thought suddenly struck me about something she had shared on her story. I gently pulled away from the kiss, my eyes drawn to her beautiful face.

"What's up with this quote you posted on your story mama? Did I do something?" I asked as she shook her head.

Kiyana reassured him, "It's not your fault; I'm just experiencing these feelings at the moment, that's all." Deep down, she was aware that the quote she had shared was aimed at him, but she felt compelled to conceal the truth.

She nodded with a smile, reassuring him, "I just wanted to ensure everything was fine between us. "Yes, we're good, Jey." Though uncertainty lingered in my mind about her words, I hesitated to press her further.

I felt my dick pop up and strike her in the butt as I began to untie the thread around her sweatpants and take them off of her along with her underwear.

Once more, my hands were stroking her face—she is so gorgeous. I haven't even touched her yet, but I could feel her hot pussy oozing for me. She got up and aligned herself with my dick within her entrance, making us both groan loudly as we felt how warm she was inside.

She was jumping up and down on my dick, hanging onto my chest for support so she wouldn't fall, and her eyes were dark and full of need, just like mine.

"Ouuu, fuck. Daddy...your dick is so prefect for me," Kiyana moaned as I gave her left ass cheek a few slaps.

"Yeah? Keep on bouncing on it you'll get a reward from daddy princess," I responded back to her.

 Following our time together, we nestled closely in her bed, relishing the intimacy of the moment we had just shared. She remained silent, gently toying with my hair, creating a serene atmosphere that spoke volumes without words

I found it concerning that she was so quiet; it suggests that something is troubling her, and she may not be ready to discuss it.

"What's on yo' mind mama? you seem quiet," I asked her as she gazed up at me.

I could hear her take a deep breath before she finally spoke, "Jey, I'm really anxious about tonight. What if I mess up out there or something?" It was surprising to hear her express such nerves, especially since she had been performing for years. Why was she feeling this way? 

"Mama I think you'll do great out there don't doubt yourself for a second aight? You're perfect," Her smile lit up the room, casting a spell that captivated me completely. I gently pressed a tender kiss on her temple, savoring the moment, before leaning in for another kiss on her lips.

It quickly escalated into another passionate moment as she embraced me, her arms around my neck while I held her at the hip. She was simply flawless. Just then, I felt my phone vibrating, interrupting our intimate connection.

"Hey, someone's calling you I'll be back I gotta get ready for tonight," she said as she got up from her bed heading towards the bathroom.

I answered the phone, recognizing Jaida's voice, and immediately knew it was her reaching out to me.

OTP Babygirl💋: hiii daddy wya Jey🖤: I'm over here at a friends house chilling what's up? Babygirl💋: what friend? Is it that girl Kiyana? You fucking her? Jey🖤: nah baby I wouldn't do that to you, she's nothing to me compare to you Babygirl💋: good I can't wait to see you I miss that big dick of yours Jey🖤: I miss you too baby I'll see you after I leave from here aight? Babygirl💋: okay daddy see you Jey🖤: aight then baby

CALL ENDED

I could hear the shower running, which led me to believe she was enjoying a long soak. As I got up from her bed and slipped into the clothes I had worn earlier, the sound of music wafted from the bathroom. I couldn't help but chuckle to myself as I grabbed my keys and made my way downstairs, eager to see Jaida before Kiyana's fashion show tonight.

༊*·˚

OMNISCIENT Kiyana was overwhelmed with thoughts, particularly about the conversation she overheard between Jey and Jaida just before she stepped into the shower. The way Jey was playing with her emotions left her feeling unsettled, especially since she was already grappling with her own inner turmoil regarding her feelings for him.

Kiyana dismissed the thought, determined not to let anything divert her attention tonight. As she sat in the makeup chair, she watched the other women preparing for the show, each one radiating excitement and energy. Yet, amidst the bustling atmosphere, she felt a profound sense of loneliness, longing for Nathan to be there with her in this moment.

She was thrilled to learn that Fka Twigs would be opening the show tonight. The thought of her favorite artist taking the stage brought a smile to her face. It was going to be an exciting night filled with famous faces, including her best friend, her brother, and the Uso's.

She felt an overwhelming weight in her mind and heart, grappling with emotions for a man who was ultimately out of reach. Jey's actions stirred a longing within her that she had secretly desired for so long, and now that it was within her grasp, the realization that she couldn't have it was devastating.

"Ladies! This evening is your chance to showcase your talents and open doors to new opportunities, so let your brilliance shine tonight!" Kevin encouraged us, and we all erupted in cheers of excitement.

The initial group of girls, adorned in their outfits, radiated beauty like diamonds just as the show was about to commence. The enchanting sound of Twig's voice filled the air, creating a magical atmosphere. Suddenly, she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder, prompting her to turn around.

Nathan and Patrice stood behind her, holding a bouquet of roses and cards, which made her smile as she embraced them warmly.

"Oh my goodness I thought I wasn't going to see you guys tonight!" Kiyana said.

Nathan exclaimed, "Why on earth would we skip your spectacular night strutting down the runway, looking absolutely breathtaking? Kevin even allowed me to choose your outfits for the evening!" She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in surprise.

"Really? You're kidding?" Nathan shook his head he was being serious about it Kiyana placed the bouquet of roses and cards on her table before getting up from the chair that's when Kevin approached them.

"Kiyana, sweetheart, you'll be right behind Jazmine over there. Just keep your confidence high and shine out there!" Kiyana nodded as Nathan approached her, bringing the beautiful angelic wings for her to wear, perfectly fitting the theme for the evening.

She gazed into the mirror, adjusting her voluminous afro and ensuring her makeup was flawless. After sharing a final embrace with Nathan and Patricia, she stepped behind Jazmine, who greeted her with a cheerful wave.

Kiyana silently prayed, wishing to maintain her composure on the runway and to block out the negative energy swirling around her. As the line dwindled, she found herself inching closer to the stage, peering over Jazmine's head. There, she spotted her brother, her mother, Liv, and the Uso's seated together, captivated by Fka Twigs' enchanting performance.

She was taken aback to find Jey there, especially after spending time with Jaida just before he arrived with his brother. She had assumed he would remain with Jaida, but she chose not to let it affect her.

Jazmine followed the other girl as she returned, leaving Kiyana feeling anxious and isolated. Her nerves seemed to slip away as she caught a glimpse of Jey, who was watching her. However, she quickly averted her eyes, choosing instead to focus on the runway ahead. As she walked confidently, she lost herself in the rhythm of the music, holding hands with Fka and strutting her stuff like a true star.

She paused to flaunt her outfit, blowing a kiss to the audience before retreating backstage to change clothes, preparing to make her return.

She swiftly changed her clothes with Nathan and Patrice’s assistance, slipping into a stunning outfit he had chosen for her, adorned in elegant white and gold.

"You look absolutely stunning Yana," Patrice said.

 "I can't express how grateful I am to see all of you here with me; it completely eased my nerves," she exclaimed, wrapping them in a brief hug before returning to her place behind Jazmine, who praised her outfit.

༊*·˚ As the show concluded, Kiyana slipped into her after-party dress, exhaustion washing over her from the night's events. Just then, she heard someone calling her name. Turning around, she was greeted by the sight of her best friend, her brother, their mother, and the Uso's entering the room.

"Oh my god Yana you looked so good tonight you did your thing out there girl!" Liv exclaimed as she hugged Kiyana.

"Thank you I was nervous you guys, yall don't even know," Kiyana said as she smiled at her mother who was giving her a hug along with her brother.

As she completed her task, she noticed Jey approaching with a bouquet of her favorite flowers. How many roses could one person possibly need? With a smile, she accepted the flowers and wrapped her arms around him in a warm embrace.

"You looked gorgeous tonight, walking out like that," Jey said placing a soft kiss on her cheek.

Gratefulness filled her voice as she expressed her thanks, "I truly appreciate it." Meanwhile, the group opted to grab some drinks while Kiyana engaged in conversation with her new friends, all the while sensing a pair of eyes intently observing her every action.

She suddenly felt a tap on her shoulder, causing her to pause mid-sentence, thinking it was Jey. However, when she turned around, she was taken aback to find a towering man, standing at 6'3", right behind her.

"May I help you?"

"Yes , you can actually," he said getting her hand while placing a soft kiss on it.

The man exuded an undeniable charm, with his strikingly handsome features complemented by his captivating eyes. Their beauty was almost ethereal, resembling sparkling diamonds that seemed to hold a world of wonder within them.

"I couldn't help but to find you looking absolutely stunning tonight down the runway," Kiyana had smiled at him as the girls left her alone with him.

"Thank you, I don't know how many compliments I can take for tonight it's getting me all worked up," she said.

Jey observed the scene unfold, his heart sinking as he watched her smile at another man. The sight of her giggling and flirting with someone else stirred a wave of jealousy within him. He realized he couldn't just stand by; he needed to take action.

He tuned into their discussion, eager to decipher the subtle hints the guy was dropping about Kiyana. Jey watched as he drew Kiyana in by her waist, leaning into whisper something in her ear that Jey could almost hear.

"You know I can treat you better than that Uso over there," Aaron whispered pointing directly at Jey.

Kiyana arched an eyebrow, scrutinizing the man as she challenged his motives. "Oh? Is that so? What exactly do you mean by that?" she inquired, her tone sharp, while he let out a soft chuckle in response.

"Let me take you out to dinner sweetheart," he said.

Kiyana and Jey locked eyes, and he gestured for her to join him, wanting to have a private conversation away from the crowd. She informed the man that she would return shortly and moved toward Jey, who gently took her arm and led her away.

Cody and Jimmy exchanged knowing glances as they observed the scene unfolding before them, fully aware that a pivotal moment was on the verge of occurring between the two.

In a deserted hallway, Kiyana abruptly pulled her arm from Jey's grasp, casting him a bewildered look that suggested he had lost his mind.

"The fuck is yo' problem Kiyana?" Jey questioned her.

"What do you mean What is my problem? I haven't done anything wrong," she said.

"You know what the hell I'm talking about Kiyana you got this fool all up in yo' face while I'm here," Kiyana couldn't understand the source of his sudden attitude; after all, he had merely invited her to dinner.

Suddenly, it dawned on her—Jey was feeling jealous. Jealous that another man was engaging with her, particularly if it wasn’t him or her brother Cody. She stood there, arms crossed, shooting him a piercing glance. "Jey, you can't be serious right now! I believed we agreed to live our lives independently and be with whoever we choose in this arrangement."

"But you know yo' ass been mine since you walk into the club you've been mine Kiyana now this bitch ass boy wanna be all over you and you entertaining the shit," She couldn't believe what she was hearing right now.

"What I do with someone is not your damn business Jey just like how I don't be saying shit when you're with Jaida I mind my fucking business so you should do the same hell he could probably treat me better than you can," He felt a profound pain within, but he masked it well. Approaching her, he gently encircled her throat with his hand, locking his gaze onto hers.

"Don't fucking play with me Kiyana saying shit like that knowing I'll fuck yo' shit up," Her emotions begin to blossom as she observes his possessive and dominant nature, as he asserts his claim over her despite the absence of an official relationship.

She was grappling with her emotions regarding him, struggling against the inner turmoil of her feelings. Yet, she had to face the reality that he was already in a relationship. So, what could possibly explain his confusing behavior?

"Really? Probably have to remind me then, like I said whoever I'm with is none of your business—" Kiyana experienced the intensity of his lips pressing against hers, the kiss passionate and fervent as he lifted her by the thighs, carrying her toward his car, completely oblivious to the party around them.

By the time they arrived at his car, he had opened the door and pushed Kiyana into the back seat before slamming the door shut behind him as he began removing his shredded pants and underwear, revealing his dick.

"Take these fucking panties off and hold yo' legs, I'm finna remind you that you're mine and only fucking mine," Jey said with aggression in his voice that send shivers down her spine.

He slipped her dress over her stomach and slammed himself inside of her, causing her to wail loudly as he began giving her his harsh strokes with his hand wrapped around her throat.

"J-Jey..W-wait...fuck," Kiyana moaned.

"Ain't no fucking wait to late for that, I gotta put you in yo' place and you better not run from me either you hear me?" He grunted.

When she didn't respond to him she earned a slap on her left ass cheek causing her to whine, "Yess I hear you I hear you fuckk," she threw her head back in pleasure while Jey was beating up her gummy walls.

Kiyana realized at that moment that he was determined to hold on to this situation with unwavering resolve.

Sneaky Link

uceyjucey, americannightmarecody, aaron_pierre1, and others liked your post.

yanasworld: After Party 😘 uceyjucey: remember you mines mama 🤫 yanasworld: @ uceyjucey I know I'm yours 🖤 americannightmarecody: @ uceyjucey y'all two good? uceyjucey: @ americannightmarecody yeah we good uce aaron_pierre1: damn you're so gorgeous baby 🙂‍↕️ yanasworld: @ aaron_peirre1  thank you 💗 jonathanfatu: you did great out there Kiyana ❤️ yaonlylivonce: period my best friend ate yall up i loved the fashion show bestie 🥹 yanasworld: @ yaonlylivonce thank you bestie 💗 biancabelairwwe: i saw a clip of you and girrrl you looked gorgeous honey trinity_fatu: looking stunning as ever

Read all Comments.

uceyjucey posted on his close friends!

jonathanfatu replied to your close friends: Uce what I say dawg be careful dawg Kiyana does not like to be in drama biancabelairwwe replied to your close friends: Ooop ����👀 I'm sensing drama??? trinity_fatu replied to your close friends: Jey? What's goin on with you and Kiyana? yaonlylivonce replied to your close friends: sir??? americannightmarecody replied to your close friends; remember what I told you earlier today about my sister romanreigns replied to your close friends: what's happening rn? u ain't fucking with Jaida anymore?

A/n: that dinner is still on the table will Kiyana go to the dinner with Aaron or will her feelings betray her because of Jey? Finna get messy I'll tell you that.

Hope yall enjoy this chapter Lmk in the comments below

STAY UCEY

2.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

wait what if mc accidentally sent sebastian a love letter. like they were trying to write down their feelings and it just got sent by a helpful roommate by mistake

Love Letter | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

I HOPE YOU ENJOY ANON! I really had a great time writing the love letter, UGH that got me right in the heart ;.;

Words: ~3,900

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House, Drama, Fluff, Romance

Sebastian,

Witch Weekly says that writing down your feelings is supposed to help. That if you’re in love with someone you can never have, you should put it all down on parchment, let it spill from your heart like ink onto a page. Then, once it’s written, you can crumple it up, set it on fire, or hide it away where no one will ever find it.

I suppose it’s meant to be cathartic. A way to lighten the burden, to lessen the ache. But I know better.

Because no matter how many words I pour onto this page, no matter how many times I try to convince myself that this will fix something, I already know the truth.

There is no fixing this. There is no untangling my heart from yours.

I will love you until the day I die.

It feels embarrassing to even write that, like I’m some sappy, lovesick fool. But I suppose that’s exactly what I am. And who cares, really? No one is ever going to see this.

No one will ever know how deep this goes but me.

How have you never noticed, Sebastian? You’re supposed to be so sharp, so quick-witted, always a step ahead of everyone else.

But the truth is I’ve loved you since fifth year, since the moment we met.

Since the day you smirked at me like you already knew all my secrets, like you had me all figured out before I’d even said a word. You were infuriating from the start—sharp-tongued, arrogant, always so bloody sure of yourself. You challenged me, teased me, riled me up just to see me snap.

And I never stood a chance.

Somewhere along the way, your laughter became my favorite sound. Your voice became my comfort. Your presence became home.

I know you—in a way I don’t think even you do. I remember everything.

The way you take your tea, strong and almost disgustingly sweet, like you’re trying to cover up the bitterness with reckless abandon.

The way you tilt your head when you’re about to say something infuriatingly smug, that damnable smirk already forming before the words have even left your mouth.

The way your brow furrows when you’re deep in thought, when you think no one’s watching.

The way your hands twitch when you’re holding back, itching to reach for your wand, to fight, to protect.

The way you bite your lip when you’re trying not to laugh.

The way your eyes—Merlin, your eyes—burn with every emotion you try to hide. You think you're so clever, so unreadable, but I see it all. The mischief, the fire, the frustration, the fleeting moments of doubt you’d never admit to. They undo me. Every damn time.

And I’ve tried, Sebastian.

I’ve tried to love someone else.

I’ve been with other boys. I’ve gone on dates and smiled at the right moments, I’ve listened when they talked, I’ve let them hold me. And I wanted to feel something—I tried to feel something.

But none of them were you.

I could no sooner remove you from my heart than I could carve it from my own body.

You are in me. In every breath, in every thought, in every moment I spend wishing things were different.

And I have long since resigned myself to the reality that this is how it will always be.

You are my best friend, and that is more important than my feelings. It has to be. Because if I ever told you—if I ever let this slip—I don’t think I could bear the consequences.

So I stay quiet.

And at night, I stare up at the canopy of my bed and let myself think about all the things I will never have.

I think about you. I think about what it would be like if I were braver. I think about how you’d react if I kissed you.

Would your eyes go half-lidded, hazy with something slow and molten? Would you pull me close, pressing me against you, against something solid and warm? Would you let me run my hands through your hair, feel the softness of it between my fingers?

I wonder how you’d taste. If your mouth would be all heat and urgency, if you’d bite my lower lip just to make me gasp. If you’d whisper my name against my skin like you’ve always known it was meant for your lips.

Would you let me have you?

I think about it at night, when it’s late and the world is quiet and I’m alone with nothing but the ache of wanting you. I press my face into my pillow, close my eyes, and let myself pretend—just for a little while—that you want me, too.

But it doesn’t really matter. Because I’ll never know.

And I know I am eighteen years old, and older people love to say that teenagers don’t know what love is. That we’re naive, foolish, that we think we’ll feel this way forever when really, it’s just a passing fancy.

But of this, of my love for you, I am more certain than I have ever been of anything.

This is not something I will grow out of. This is not something that will fade. This is something I will carry with me for the rest of my life, whether I want to or not.

And I will keep it locked away, because I would rather love you in silence than lose you forever.

So I’ll fold this letter, tuck it away, and pretend it doesn’t exist.

Because you will never know.

—Yours (though you’ll never know it),

You signed your name, sniffing as you pressed your palm against the parchment, as if you could smooth away the trembling emotions trapped in ink.

There. It’s done.

It had felt good, in a way, to let it all out. But just as you predicted, writing it down hadn’t changed anything. Hadn’t lessened the ache or made your heart any lighter. If anything, it felt heavier, the weight of your unspoken love solidified in every word scrawled across the page.

You exhaled, folding the letter carefully—almost reverently—before setting it on your bedside table. You had every intention of tucking it away in your trunk, hidden beneath layers of robes where no one would ever find it.

But exhaustion was already pressing at your bones, and you thought, I’ll do it in the morning.

So you blew out the candle, turned onto your side, and let sleep pull you under.

Sunlight streamed through the windows when you woke with a start, your stomach dropping at the realization that you’d overslept.

“Shit,” you mumbled, throwing the blankets off and scrambling to dress as your roommates bustled around, already halfway through their morning routines.

“You must’ve been exhausted,” one of them teased as you tugged your uniform into place.

You barely heard them, too busy cursing yourself for missing breakfast. By the time you grabbed your bag and rushed out of the dormitory, your mind was already occupied with the day ahead—assignments, Professor Ronen’s latest essay, and the Quidditch scrimmage planned for the afternoon.

You never even glanced at your bedside table.

Never noticed the missing letter.

Nevertheless, your day had passed by like any other.

You’d managed to dodge Sharp’s wrath over a half-finished potion, spent lunch laughing with Ominis over Sebastian’s latest disastrous attempt at sweet-talking Imelda into lending him her broom, and successfully avoided thinking too much about the letter that was supposed to be ash by now.

Everything was fine.

That was, until you walked into the Great Hall for dinner.

At first, everything seemed as it always was—the low hum of conversation, the clatter of cutlery against plates, the floating candles casting their soft golden glow over the long tables. Your stomach grumbled at the scent of roasted chicken and buttered bread, and you barely gave a thought to where you would sit as your gaze instinctively flicked to the Slytherin table.

And there he was.

Sebastian sat in his usual spot, right beside Ominis. You felt the familiar pull of his presence, the way you always did, like some unconscious part of you sought him out before you even realized it.

But then, something shifted.

Sebastian wasn’t eating.

His hands were occupied—not with a goblet or a fork, but with a piece of parchment, one he had just begun to unfold. His brow furrowed slightly as his fingers smoothed out the creases, his dark eyes scanning the words in front of him.

You barely noticed the way your heart slammed against your ribs.

Because you knew that letter.

You knew that parchment.

You knew what he was reading.

Time slowed to a crawl, your breath halting as you stood frozen in the doorway, the warmth of the Great Hall vanishing, replaced by a creeping cold that wrapped around your spine and sank its claws deep into your chest.

Sebastian’s expression went slack.

His lips parted slightly, his brows drawing together in something unreadable as his eyes flicked over the words—your words—the ones you had never intended for anyone, let alone him, to see.

Ominis was speaking beside him, his mouth moving, probably teasing him about something, but Sebastian wasn’t responding. He wasn’t reacting, wasn’t moving. He was just reading.

Your stomach twisted violently, nausea rising in your throat as panic set in.

No, no, no, no, no.

Your breath hitched, your lungs seizing in panic as your mind raced— He hasn’t finished reading it yet. He can’t have. Maybe I can get to him, grab it before he—

But then his eyes lifted. And found yours. Everything inside you froze.

His face was unreadable, his dark gaze burning into yours with something too raw, too intense to decipher. And then—

Sebastian stood to his full height.

The parchment was still in his hands, crumpled slightly in his grip, like his fingers had tightened around it involuntarily. His mouth parted, as if he were about to say something—

And that was when your body made its decision.

Run.

You spun on your heel and bolted.

You heard the scrape of Sebastian’s chair against the stone floor, the sharp inhale of Ominis beside him, the sudden uptick in murmurs as people took notice. But you couldn’t focus on any of it—only the sheer, overwhelming need to get out, to get away, to put as much distance between you and that letter as humanly possible.

Your robes billowed behind you as you pushed past a group of Ravenclaws near the entrance, ignoring their startled protests. You didn’t even know where you were going—only that you had to move.

You barely made it into the corridor when you heard it.

“Oi!”

Sebastian’s voice, sharp and demanding, echoed off the stone walls.

You risked a glance over your shoulder and immediately regretted it.

He was right behind you, his expression set in something fierce—determined. His grip was still tight around the parchment, his knuckles white, and oh, Merlin, he was gaining on you.

You whirled down a side hall, nearly colliding with a suit of armor as you ducked around a corner. The adrenaline was making your limbs feel weightless, your body moving on pure instinct. You knew—knew—that running made you look guiltier, made it clear beyond a doubt that the letter was yours, but Sebastian knew your handwriting.

There was no talking your way out of this.

So you ran.

And he followed.

“Bloody hell, will you stop running?”

No. Absolutely not.

Your heart threatened to claw its way up your throat as you rounded another corner, nearly losing your footing in your panic. You had no plan, no destination—only the singular, desperate urge to get away.

But Hogwarts was only so big.

And Sebastian Sallow was faster than you.

So you did the only thing you could think to do—you ran for the nearest exit.

The heavy wooden doors of the castle loomed ahead, and you threw yourself at them, bursting into the crisp evening air.

The temperature was cooler out here, the autumn wind biting at your skin, but you barely noticed. The sky was deep blue, streaked with the last remnants of sunset, the grounds bathed in the soft glow of torchlight.

And still, you ran.

The wide expanse of the courtyard gave you space—space to sprint, to put real distance between you and the boy who held your heart in his hands, ink-stained and utterly exposed.

But then—

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake—”

A heavy force collided into you from behind, and suddenly, the ground was no longer beneath your feet.

A startled gasp left your lips as the world tilted, and then—

You hit the grass, hard.

The weight of another body pressed down on you, solid and warm, pinning you beneath them.

For a moment, everything stilled.

The only sounds were your own ragged breaths, your pulse roaring in your ears, and the undeniable, shuddering exhale from the boy who had just tackled you to the ground.

Sebastian.

You felt him shift above you, his hands braced on either side of your head, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath.

The letter was still clutched in his fist, crumpled and worn from the chase.

And then—

“Are you absolutely mental?” His voice was breathless, frustrated—wild.

You flinched, panic curling up your spine, your body trembling beneath him.

“Sebastian,” you gasped, trying to squirm away, but he wasn’t having it.

“No.” His tone shook, his grip tightening on the ground beside you. “No, we’re going to talk about this.”

Your heart lurched. No, no, no, this wasn’t happening.

You squeezed your eyes shut, every fiber of your being screaming at you to run again, to somehow undo all of this.

But you were trapped.

Not just by his weight—not just by the way his arms and legs bracketed yours, caging you in—but by the look on his face.

His eyes.

Dark and intense, searching yours like he was trying to find an answer you hadn’t given him yet.

You swallowed, chest rising and falling too quickly, your hands curling into the grass beneath you as you tried to breathe.

Sebastian’s grip on the parchment tightened. “This—” his voice was lower now, unreadable, “—this isn’t a joke, is it?”

You swallowed, trying to force words up your throat. Your lips parted.

“I—” Your voice cracked. “I didn’t—”

“Because if it is,” he continued, his gaze darkening, intensifying, “it’s a cruel one.”

Your breath hitched, your body locking up beneath him.

A cruel joke?

"W-what?" you breathed,

Sebastian's grip on the letter was so tight now that the parchment crinkled loudly between his fingers. His other hand was still braced beside your head, his body caging you in, radiating heat, tension—something dangerous.

"You heard me," he said, his voice rough, barely controlled. "Is this a joke? Some sort of—of—prank?"

The very thought made your stomach twist. How could he—how could he even think—

"Of course not!" The words came out more forcefully than you intended, your panic spiking.

His jaw clenched. "Then why the fuck did you run?"

"Because!" You spluttered, incredulous. "You-you were- how the hell did you even get that?!"

Sebastian let out a sharp laugh, shaking the crumpled parchment between his fingers. “How did I get it? Oh, I don’t know, maybe because it was sent in the mail?!” His gaze burned into yours. “And it had my bloody name on it?!

"But I never sent it! I—" The words caught in your throat, a frantic, garbled mess of emotion and panic. You couldn't even think straight, not with him right there, not with his weight pressing you down, his breath still ragged from chasing you.

Sebastian scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Oh, so it just magically appeared in the post? Someone sent it, and seeing as it’s your handwriting, your words—your fucking confession—I’d say that narrows down the list of suspects."

Your mouth opened and closed, but your brain refused to supply a logical defense.

You had left it out.

And your roommates—oh Merlin, they must have seen it, assumed you had forgotten to send it, and done you the favor of making sure it got delivered.

Your breath shuddered as the weight of it all crashed over you, the full, awful realization that everything was ruined.

Tears burned behind your eyes, hot and humiliating, and before you could stop them, they spilled over, sliding down your temples into the grass beneath you.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, voice thick and uneven. “I—I never meant for you to see it. I was going to burn it, I swear—”

Sebastian’s entire body jerked like you’d just hexed him.

His anger—sharp and scorching only moments ago—immediately cracked, giving way to something horrified, something panicked.

“Oh—fuck,” he breathed, his grip on the parchment loosening as his weight shifted. “Shit, no—don’t—”

And then, in a blur of movement, he was off you, scrambling backward like he’d just been hit with a Stunning Spell.

You sucked in a breath at the sudden loss of warmth, blinking up at him through wet lashes as he kneeled beside you, hands lifting slightly like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know how.

“I’m not mad at you,” he rushed out, voice hoarse, urgent. “I swear, I’m not—I just—fuck, I didn’t mean to—”

You buried your face in your hands, curling in on yourself as the shame closed in.

“No, it’s my fault,” you rasped, words strangled and raw. “I should have just—kept my feelings to myself. I should have never written it down, I don’t know why I—”

"Hey, hey—" His voice was softer now, no longer demanding, no longer frantic. A warm hand hovered near your shoulder, hesitant, but you were already spiraling.

"I—Merlin, why did I even listen to Witch Weekly?" You let out a miserable, watery laugh, rubbing furiously at your face as you tried—and failed—to control the mess of emotion in your chest.

Sebastian made a noise, almost like a pained laugh, but his eyes were still frantic, still burning with something raw and unsteady.

“So... it’s true?” His voice was quieter now, rough, but no less intense. “What you wrote?”

His fingers finally touched your wrist—not enough to pull your hands away, but enough that you felt it. Enough that it sent a ripple of awareness through you.

“Tell me,” he murmured, and you could hear the strain in his voice now.

Slowly, painfully, you lowered your hands from your face.

Sebastian’s gaze burned into you, desperate and unreadable.

Your throat was tight, your breath uneven.

But you couldn’t lie.

So you nodded.

A sharp exhale left him, his hand dropping from your wrist to clench in the grass beside him. His head tilted back slightly, his jaw tight, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair again.

You winced. "I know," you whispered, curling your arms around yourself. "I know. I'm sorry. You can just—just forget about it, okay? I know it's probably weird, and you don't feel the same, and I just—I'll move on, alright? I can—I can pretend this never happened, if that's what you want—"

Sebastian let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh.

And then he lunged for you,

Before you could even react, he was on you again, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into him. The force of it knocked the breath from your lungs, your hands flying up to brace against his chest as he rolled, flipping the both of you over until you were the one on top, sprawled against the solid warmth of his body.

A startled noise left your lips as he crushed you into his chest, his arms locking around you like a vice. His heartbeat pounded beneath your cheek, wild and erratic, his breathing uneven.

"You're such an idiot," he muttered into your hair, his voice rough, still shaking with disbelief.

Your brain was struggling to keep up.

"W-what—?"

"You think I don’t feel the same?" He let out a breathless, almost hysterical laugh, tightening his hold around you. "Merlin, do you even hear yourself?"

Your stomach flipped, something warm and dangerous flooding your veins.

Sebastian's grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened, his hand splaying wide against the small of your back, pressing you even closer to him.

"You’re not moving on," he said fiercely. "You’re mine."

Your breath hitched. "Wh-what?"

Sebastian groaned, his head dropping back against the grass, his fingers flexing against you like he was barely holding himself together. "Fuck, do you even know what you've done to me?"

You swallowed hard, your fingers still curled in his robes, every inch of you hyper-aware of just how close you were.

"I—"

"You've wrecked me," he muttered, almost like an accusation. "I thought—I thought I was losing my mind. You had to know, you had to have noticed—"

"Noticed what?" you whispered, your voice barely there.

Sebastian let out a shaky breath, and then his hands slid up your back, one curling around the base of your skull, the other gripping your waist, firm.

"Noticed how fucking obsessed I am with you."

Your body locked up.

He flipped you again, faster this time, pressing you down into the grass beneath him, his weight heavy over yours. His breath was ragged, his expression wild, his eyes—

His eyes.

Dark, burning, hungry.

"I love you," he murmured, his voice almost pleading, like he needed you to hear it, to understand. "I’ve loved you for so fucking long."

"You—" The words tangled in your throat, your hands fisting in the fabric of his robes. "You don't have to say that just because you—because you feel bad—"

A sharp sound left his throat—something between a laugh and a growl, something raw and frustrated.

"Are you serious right now?" His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers pressing into your skin through the fabric of your robes. "You think I’m saying this out of pity?"

You flinched, shaking your head quickly. "I just—I don’t understand—"

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, dropping his forehead to yours for a fleeting second, like he needed the contact just to ground himself. "You really don’t know, do you?"

Your breath was uneven, your mind spinning. "Know what?"

Sebastian exhaled sharply, and then—

He kissed you.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t hesitant. It was a claim.

His mouth crashed against yours, desperate, consuming, like he’d been starving for this.

A shocked noise slipped from you, but he swallowed it, pressing closer, deeper, one hand sliding into your hair while the other anchored itself at your waist.

Heat flooded through you, overwhelming and intoxicating, sending shivers down your spine.

You had imagined this before—god, you had imagined this in the dark, alone, staring at your canopy and aching for him—but nothing could have prepared you for the way he felt.

The way he took. The way he gave.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he tilted your head back and kissed you again—harder, deeper, like he was trying to ruin you.

Like he needed you as badly as you needed him.

"Still think I'm lying?" he murmured against your lips, his voice a rough, wicked thing.

You shook your head, dazed, your fingers curling into his robes as you pulled him closer, your answer slipping out between gasps.

"N-no."

Sebastian smirked against your mouth, his grip tightening.

"Good," he breathed. "Because I'm never letting you go."

[conditioned-to-obey]

i keep seeing posts that you write about your (i assume) partner. they always simultaneously make me swoon and become very sad. my experiences trying to pursue relationships have been entirely negative. i only hope to have someone describe me in such a loving way. love ur blog xx

You will, dear.

The same heart that which cradles and experiences these emotions of deep love, swooning and connection, also feels the deep chasm of sadness.

Grief that renders my mind worn smooth, where trenches from the past once held war still remain. Hollowed and empty now, but the ground still retains its mustard gas scars and scorced patches of earth grow wild flowers again.

The still pool of my chest keeps an otherness submerged within it currents that can pull me under, or drown me if I am not careful with myself. Beneath calm, there is rarely much clarity. What makes one love in a specific way? What makes one show of love more receptive to us than another? I suppose I cast out into the world the love I so badly yearn for. Hoping and praying for unafflicted reciprocity—and sometimes finding it. Not always. And that's okay.

What I am trying to convey is that deep love is just another side of what can be deep pain. I wouldn't love this hard if all other feelings didn't reach the same depths. It is a spear sharpened at both ends.

I saw a post on here once that went along the lines of "all this grief was once love." And in my case, all this love was once anger, all this love was once grief. It still is, in its rawest form, energy that is transmuted and channeled. It rarely goes away. It's still here, it's just different now. I am different now.

[realbatberntruther]

ok so im on a rush but it goes something like this:

Bernard is an EMT in Gotham at first, wich then escalates to finishing his education to be an actual doctor, mostly done by the recommendation of both Leslie and Alfred because, while they can manage all the batfam injuries, they´re not inmortal, so they need to know someone will take care of everyone when their moment comes.

In this AU Jason and Damian, by some ungodly reason, get along with Bernard; this is mostly based on some fics i´ve read that i like, so we keep that :)

At some point, both Jason and Damian gift Bernard some weapons in case he ever needs one; Jason gives him either a Kimber micro 9 or a Colt 1911, engraved with some patterns in the handle, while Damian gives him a pair of daggers, the leather in the handle the same color as his eyes, with an engravation in the blade on a lenguage Bernard doesn´t understand.

As time passes, Bernard decides to be part of doctors withou borders, both to help where help is needed and as a way to test his knowledge and abilities.

Let´s say that one year and a half passed once he came back to Gotham, and another six month pass until Tim proposes.

Bernard is all over the moon at the prospect of getting married to Tim, and he has´t been this happy in a long time. But as always, this doesn´t last forever.

Just one week before the wedding, Tim dies, supposedly, in a plane crash.

Not only Bernard is devastated, the whole family is, they just lost a son, a brother, a friend, and the crime in Gotham doesn´t stop, so they have to handle all that at once.

Bernard was still assimilating the news when he finds out it wasn´t an accident, it was planned, and oh boy

Bernard, instead of communicating this to the batfamily and, idk, maybe process grief in a healthy way, goes straight up to Shiva, Ra´s, literally anyone who´s willing to train him without asking too much questions, because he has shit to do

in this AU, i had the idea of Ra´s helping Bernard because one of his men betrayed him and helped kill Tim despite his order to NOT, so he agreeds to train him in order to take care of that. (be aware that im not expert in the interpretation of whatever a character would do something or not, but this is what works for the AU, so please bear with me)

After 5 months or so of training and collecting information, Bernard makes his first move

That´s how the batfamily found out that Bernard had left the country, because after the death of Tim they had been so overwhelmed and trying to find a new normality that they didn´t even realize they hadn´t seen Bernard in person for months

Bernard´s first stop is in Japan, mainly for two reasons: he needs someone there to make a katana for him (kill bill inspired), and the first person on his list is also there (also kill bill inspired)

He´s also there to get his suit, but the how is mostly unimportant. His suit his white, reassembling what was supposed to be his wedding suit. It´s, for the most part, similar to the one The Bride wears in Kill Bill, even the shoes.

The fact that Bernard actually succeds in taking out the first one on his list is what puts to alert all the other ones because, yes, for Tim to die the collaboration of twele people where needed

Some facts of Bernard in this AU: he was in a pain cult, so he is no stranger to what it feels like to hurt so much, but after Tim´s death he starts to intentionally hurt himself, not as a punishment, but as a training for what's about to come. The fact that he trained himself to tolerate pain to the point where he doesn´t really feel it is what tells the 12 killers this guy is serious. It only got worse once they realized that oh shit, this is the groom of the guy we killed

The first 4 try and fail to kill him directly, the next ones were more smart about it

I have many, MANY thoughts about how this AU would go, specially considering the amount of people Bernard would need to kill in order to get vengance, but for now this is all i´ve managed to write.

I wanted to make some drawings of Bernard, thinking that, if this was a comic run, it would be cool to have Bernard and the killer in the covers; the more people he kills, the bloodier his suit gets.

If anyone has any ideas, please feel free to add! English is not my first lenguage, so i may have some mistakes, and i apologize for that in advance :]

My Kill Bill Bernard AU has stopped being an AU and at this point is just a whole independent history with an OC based on Bernard and The Bride but idc

[girl4music]

Watching LEGION Season 2. Chapter 9.

Gods this show is so experimental. I love it.

It’s all about the mind and the power it can have once an idea takes ahold of creative and idiosyncratic people. It’s why it so heavily ties into mental health.

I said I wouldn’t do any commentary on my rewatch of this show but it’s just so damn thought-provoking, I can’t help expressing myself on how brilliant it is.

It’s stuff like this that really makes my INTP mind wild. And I’m just soaking all knowledge up like a sponge.

You know it pays well to be mentally predisposed because your preferred currency is information. And it’s always best when that information is open for interpretation and is given very little exposition.

It’s something for me - as the the person I am - to do because I care very little about crazy expensive CGI graphics and all the clever effects and tricks in the book if it’s not giving me anything for my mind to do.

That’s what I care most about with art/entertainment. The mental stimulation and consciousness expansion.

[forgetme-eternally-blissfully]

Choi Han, for a test from a god, is sent to an unknown land with "Cale."

Choi Han, upon arrival, realizes something is strange about this Cale. He's got a similar appearance to his own Cale but the eyes are sharper, with a witty bite to his tongue and a quick sneer always at the ready.

He's clearly confused and distressed about being in a strange place with a strange person but he does his best to not let it show. His hand reaches for a bottle of alcohol that isn't there.

Choi Han thinks that this Cale isn't like his Cale at all.

Choi Han has a hunch that this Cale is the one from before Kim Rok Soo's possession. It makes sense. So he isn't his Cale.

However, though Choi Han wants to become cold to this stranger version of Cale, when he looks into those red-brown eyes and sees fear, he draws back. It's an instinctual feeling that he gets, right as Cale is spitting more vile words to cover up the trembling in his hands, that he doesn't want to see even a terrible Cale be afraid of him.

This doesn't stop them from arguing. Through towns, forests, deserts, they both learn on an intimate level that they would never, ever get along. Cale is too loud, too threatening, and Choi Han can't resist from debating with this strange Cale about morals, of all things. They argue constantly.

Though they argue, Choi Han can't help himself from sometimes mistaking this Cale for his own. He tells himself it's because they look alike.

They're both in the midst of an argument when a noble-like individual approaches them with cloying words, which seek to lure them inside of the noble's home. Choi Han is suspicious, but before he has the chance to decline, Cale steps in front of Choi Han and demands to speak to the noble who wants to see them.

The noble-like individual turns out to be the servant of a more powerful man, something that Cale saw through immediately.

Choi Han is stunned.

How did this, this trashy Cale with no moral upstanding, clock the intentions of a person so quickly and accurately?

He asks him directly. Cale shrugs. Choi Han believes he's mistaken when Cale's eyes flicker with calculating intent. They don't discuss it further.

Little moments like these keep occurring. Cale does something impressive, Choi Han inquires, and Cale downplays it with a sneer or an insult and refuses to speak about it again. It's weird and strange but it's familiar. Extremely so. Not the insulting, and the sneer is too odd to be his own Cale's face, but it's familiar in the sense that they both underestimate themselves. They both refuse to acknowledge what lies under the surface of their visage.

This Cale is a strange individual. He swears and laughs and grins, he's too calm about their situation, and it's difficult to get through to him when he makes up his mind about something. But the strangest thing is that all of these things remind Choi Han of his Cale.

Finally, it all comes down to a final battle. One more fight and both himself and this Cale can go back to where they belong. Choi Han is ready.

Cale receives a power from a book before the battle and it's unlike anything Choi Han has ever seen. But the coughing up of blood makes him have Cale swear to never use it. Cale swears.

Choi Han makes Cale promise to stay on the sideline and not approach. Cale easily agrees.

They get to the last stage, the last time they'll see each other again, and the villain of this world is too powerful. It's as if he weren't meant for them to fight. It's as if he were made so that they struggle.

Choi Han swings his blade to block a blow that he knows he can't block, knows might end him, and he thinks about how he can't possibly die right now and leave this Cale behind... but he's too weak.

He wonders what his Cale would do in this moment, when everything seems hopeless and nothing is working.

Cale steps in front of him and uses his power to its fullest extent.

White light is shining everywhere, blinding Choi Han who keeps his burning eyes open, desperately keeps his eyes on the Cale that's bleeding from his mouth and his nose and his eyes and his skin is starting to crack, crack like he is about to turn into dust and disappear.

Cale turns to look at Choi Han.

"Ah. I was worried it wouldn't be enough to take out the villain." His eyes stained with blood curl up in a smile. A ball of dread sits in Choi Han's stomach. "I'm glad. I'm really, really..." eyes drifting closed, his body begins to shatter further and further. "Happy for you, Choi Han."

This is why they felt familiar.

It's with a cry of grief and anger, anger at himself, that Choi Han reaches out to hold Cale, hold onto even a piece of him.

Cale's eye, the only one left as he is disintegrating, widens.

Choi Han grasps a fragment that's about to vanish from Cale's chest, somewhere next to his heart, and this piece doesn't break, doesn't disappear from Choi Han's hand. It stays solid and firm and real-

And it's all that Choi Han is left with when the gods test ends.

Choi Han wakes up, surrounded by his family, with a red, glass marble in his hand. He holds it to his chest. It hurts.

It hurts.

[eikichi-supremacy]

hey so do you think wtv keiko had to deal with growing up with yusuke could be considered a type of parentification

[drainbangle]

wait omg i’m curious about your unpopular thoughts about temenos writing wise.. i love when people discuss octopath writing it’s really enriching to see what we all have to say about certain story elements. plus you’re like a temenos representative to me. your thoughts about temenos make me go “so true!”

Aw, thank you! It took a while for me to decide on what to write here, since honestly I could go on for… frankly any aspect of this guy, especially in regards to treatment in fanon. But for now, I'll focus on my thoughts regarding how people treat tragedy in Temenos' story— namely, Crick's death— and why I personally dislike it as a writing decision and why I disagree with the idea that it is necessary.

Note: Goes without saying, but this is my personal opinion. If you believe otherwise, then that's all good. I'm not writing this to say that any one person is wrong, just to talk about an issue I have with the game's writing itself.

To start, I'll say that my main reason for disliking Crick's death in SH route is a matter of practicality. Killing him off causes Temenos to lose the main person that he had a fantastic relationship and banter with, and in my opinion, Temenos works best when he's bouncing off another person; not unlike most under the Sherlock-archetype.

Also, genuinely? It works wonders to keep Crick alive, if just because it provides a fantastic avenue to explore Temenos' institutional trauma. Having a character that's lived a different experience but within the same harmful institution opens up ways to explore the scope of its harm. And yes, this is for Crick specifically; not Ort, not the travelers, but Crick.

I think it really adds something that Temenos was raised by the church while Crick converted as a teenager during a really difficult time in his life. These two are good for each other. Crick sure as hell makes it a lot easier to write Temenos in fic.

(If you have a different experience, again, that's cool. I'm glad for you. I, however, will never fail to take the easy way out.)

(This is a lie, I'm over here making up fantasy church law for fic stuff but that's not related to this answer.)

I won't pretend that disliking Crick's death is an unpopular opinion. I mean, "Stormhail Fix-it" is an entire genre of fic on the OT2 Ao3 tag. What I do feel tends to go unaddressed though, is the fact that the idea that Crick's death is canon, therefore it is necessary, therefore it is the best decision; an idea that I wholeheartedly disagree with.

Within the text itself, Crick is killed off in order to give Temenos a personal reason to pursue Kaldena, thus putting him at odds with Kaldena's motivations being driven by her ideology and worldview that, "because humans committed the massacre, it was the gods' mistake to put us here". I also won't pretend that Kaldena's writing here isn't fucking awful, because Crick's death is also a device to make the player want Kaldena defeated even though she is just as much as a victim of the church; and that's to say nothing of her portrayal as an indigenous and dark-skinned woman.

These decisions are ones I disagree with. Killing Crick off was unnecessary to give Temenos reason to pursue the culprit, because Temenos already had someone close to him killed; and that's Pontiff Jörg. He raised Temenos from infancy, but due to the lack of focus on him outside of banter conversations, it's never relevant to his motivations outside of the desire for truth because a crime was committed. 

We also didn't need to kill Crick off to show that the church was a terrible institution, because Roi already went missing in action. The Sacred Guard is the main body of law within Eastern Solistia, it's not unreasonable to think that the reason why Temenos dislikes them is because they clearly didn't do shit to investigate his disappearance.

However, one thing I really don't agree with is the idea that Crick's death is necessary because Temenos' story is a tragedy. And if you asked me why, I'd ask this in turn: why is death the only form of tragedy? Furthermore, why must a tragedy contain only tragic events? That in mind, what gives anything value in a tragedy, then?

Pretend we cannot completely rewrite Temenos' story. Even then, changing Crick's death to a permanent injury, a coma, or whatever is still a tragic event; and that's nothing to say of living with the consequences. Isn't losing your faith a tragedy? Isn't losing something you worked for years to do a tragedy?

Similarly, I'd still argue that it's more valuable to make Stormhail a near-death experience because not only does it show Temenos succeeding in making someone question the church but also the terror that is feeling like you're doomed to repeat tragedy. Even if you really aren't, it's hard to dismiss that feeling; especially when it has to do with being victimized by institutions.

And before someone says, "but bad things happen to good people in real life", I'm not treating these characters as living, breathing people who are subject to things like gravity, hunger, and exhaustion. I'm treating them as choices, and choices made that I disagree with. 

It's why I make different choices. I choose to make Crick have to deal with chronic pain onwards. I choose to make Temenos realize change is still possible. I choose to let them both leave Stormhail alive. Are these better choices? I don't know. But I'll never stop questioning the ones made by the writers regardless; much less stop disagreeing with them.

So, in summary: I dislike Crick's death. I dislike Temenos having to spend the rest of the story without someone he can talk to so easily because Crick's absence weakens a lot of his scenes in Temenos 4. But more than that, I dislike the idea that tragedy is necessary on top of the idea that it is superior. Tragedy's good, I adore the genre; but written in mindful doses and all that.

[leezuhh]

the xenophobia in genshin is crazyyy 😭

[cocklessboy]

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Wondering ♡

♡ Pairings: frat boy!mingi x chubby!fem!librarian!reader

♡ Genre: angst/fluff/smut

♡ Summary: While working your job at the campus library you find that the most popular guy on campus has developed quite the crush on you. Thinking that it's some sort of prank, you dismiss him completely but Mingi has his heart set on making you his and isn't content to give up that easily.

♡ Word Count: 4.5k-ish

♡ Warnings: mingi really develops a thing for chubby girls, reader has body insecurities, body worship, kissing, male masturbation, porn, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, a lil hair pulling, a lil rough sex for a sec, technically cum marking, pet names (baby), but otherwise fluffy

♡ A/N: This is a fic I wrote for a super adorable anon and as always I'm super honored that you even asked me to write this my love. I truly hope that I did your idea some justice and you enjoy it. To all the chubby babes out there who may read this, you're a bad bitch, I swear to you, and if anyone tells you otherwise I'll swing on em. Kay, love you, bye - xoxo

Nothing. Mingi strokes his cock—his palm gliding up and down his length, his thumb circling the rim—and he feels absolutely nothing. Lying in the darkness of his bedroom, the warm glow of light emanating from his phone illuminates the frustration on his face. His gaze lazily dances across the screen where a woman lies naked, a sex toy vibrating between her thighs. She’s in his favorite position, making his favorite noises, but he can’t get off on it.

Giving up, he lets out a groan, throwing his head back on his pillow. It’s been weeks of this. He’s been too horny to function but when the time of action comes he can only get halfway hard and nothing feels the same as it used to. Maybe a different video will help. Bringing his phone in close to his face, he scrolls through the recommended videos. His cock still in his hand, he feels it soften into a sad, floppy thing the further down he scrolls.

Just as he’s about to call it a night, prepared to at last put himself out of his misery, something catches his eye. An image of a naked woman spread across a bed, her plush body fully exposed. She’s bigger than other girls he’s seen naked in porn, even in real life. She’s chubby and soft with shimmering gloss on her lips and stretch marks on her thighs. His breath hitches at the sensation of the blood rushing down his length as he takes her in.

His interest officially piqued, he clicks into the video and watches her in action. He’s hypnotized by the way she bounces and jiggles, every motion of her body too perfect to comprehend. The skin pulls tight around his cock, beads of arousal rolling down the tip as he quickens his movements. His bottom lip catches between his teeth, an attempt at choking back the low groans fighting their way up his throat at the sight of juices moistening the woman’s soft thighs.

Seeing her hits him with a rush of something unfamiliar. Something that has his stomach muscles contracting and his mouth watering. His mind goes wild with thoughts of what it’d be like to touch her, to feel her body trembling against his. What he wouldn’t give right now to grip a belly like that or drag his tongue across the plush of her ass. It’s exhilarating, unlike anything he’s ever felt before. His cock grows so sensitive that he’s twitching with every stroke. 

Any care for if his roommates can hear him flies out of the window as a dizzying heat washes over him, the veins along his length throbbing as a waterfall of white shoots up onto his stomach. His phone drops onto the bed and he lets out a pitiful whimper, his eyes clung shut as he gives in to an orgasm so strong it makes his muscles weak. He’s so high from it that he fears he’ll never come down. Breathless, his skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat, he sits up in bed and flicks the light on to see what a mess he’s made of himself.

His eyes drift back to his phone where a suggestion for a similar video calls him. He takes a deep breath, feeling his cock stiffening again so soon. Mingi picks his phone up, his thumb hovering over the Next button. It’s 3am and in a few hours Yunho will be banging on his door to go to football practice. He should get his shit together, clean himself off, and go to sleep. But that rush was so unexpected, so utterly delicious. He slips back down into bed, hitting the Next button. He needs more.

“Whoa, there’s so many books here” Mingi gasps, staring up at the tall cherry wood shelves of the sprawling library. 

Mingi’s seen this place in pictures before—this marble palace with its sky high shelves and expertly crafted pillars—but in all his years on campus he’s never stepped foot in it. Nothing in this literary maze ever interested him enough to require a visit. His college career has always depended more on athletics and frat politics than it has books.

Most of his professors were more than content to give him a passing grade simply because of who he is. A stroke of luck that ran out the moment a new Women’s Studies professor stepped foot on campus. She’s set out to challenge him, to make him work for his grades if he actually wants them. A true tragedy if he’s ever been faced with one. 

“Duh, it’s full of books. It’s literally a library” Yunho laughs, plopping a small stack of books into Mingi’s arms. “I grabbed everything you need except one. The Vagina Monologues. You’re gonna have to go ask one of the librarians for help.” 

Mingi winces at the thought of the title leaving his lips and falling on a complete stranger’s ears, “Why’d it have to be called that?”

“Oh, stop being a child” Yunho huffs, catching a glimpse of a young woman pushing a cart of books past the aisle. “There! Go ask her!”

Mingi hesitates a moment but Yunho shoves him forward, “Off you go.” 

Stumbling his way down the aisle, Mingi traces the sound of squeaky cart wheels a few rows over, stopping dead in his tracks when his gaze finds the woman pushing it. She wears a flowy, pear colored dress with white lilies printed all over it. It’s long enough not to scandalize the other library staff but short enough to get a glimpse of where her thighs begin to kiss. From behind Mingi can clearly make out her shape in it, the plushness of her figure bringing to mind things he definitely shouldn’t be thinking about in the library. 

Humming along to a song in her head, she turns to place a book on one of the shelves and Mingi’s cheeks begin to burn. She’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. He’s said that about a lot of girls and never meant it but with this one it’s different. She has eyes that twinkle like sunshine dancing on the surface of some gorgeous lake. The curve of her nose is nothing short of perfection and her lips look like they taste of the sweetest sugar. 

“Can I help you with something?” you ask. The way he stares at you makes you feel more like an animal in some zoo than the object of his affection.

Mingi shakes himself out of his daze, lowering the stack of books down to cover the slight rise in his jeans. “Uh…I…yeah…um” he stutters. 

“Uh, I, yeah, um?” you tease, grabbing another book and sliding it onto a nearby shelf, “I don’t think we have that one.” 

“Who are you?” he spits out as if that’s a completely normal question to ask someone when you’re the one who approached them. 

“That’s a really weird question to ask someone, Mingi.”

“Wait, you know me?”

You giggle at the absurdity of such a question, “Of course I know you. Everyone knows you.” 

Mingi thinks about it for a second, the reality of his popularity setting back in. “I guess you’re right. I am pretty popular.”

The grin on his face makes you nauseous. Of course you know him. And of course he doesn’t know who you are. Mingi’s from a whole different world and you’re positive girls like you don’t exist where he comes from. Rolling your eyes, you grab back onto the handle of your cart, “If there’s nothing you need…” 

“Vagina!” he says, leaving you both stunned to the core, “I mean, monologues. Vagina Monologues. It’s, like, a book or whatever. Fuck it, are you busy tonight?” 

A whisper of laughter drifts down the aisle, giving away Yunho’s presence. He’s never seen his best friend crash and burn this hard. Keeping a straight face isn’t an option. Yunho’s laughter may not be meant for you but it feels like it is. The first time a guy like Mingi talks to you and of course it had to be a joke. 

“Second floor, in the Plays section, under E for Ensler” you snap, turning your back before you die of embarrassment right before Mingi’s eyes. 

“Wait, can I at least get your name?” Mingi calls out but you’re already pushing your cart down the aisle, disappearing around the next corner without another word. 

Yunho slaps a hand on Mingi’s shoulder, shaking his head in disappointment, “Who’s your new friend?”

Mingi sighs longingly, his gaze still lingering where you once stood, “I don’t know but I plan to find out.” 

Sometimes when you find yourself working nights at the library you feel like Cinderella. A slave to these old dusty books, forced to clean and organize them until your manicure begins to chip while other girls are out at bars or parties. Only there’s no fairy godmother to come wave her magic wand and turn your pumpkin into a carriage. There’s no glass slipper and certainly no Prince Charming to sweep you off your feet.

Still, you need the extra money so there’s nothing to be done about it. Taking a seat at the front desk you check the time, it’s almost time to close up shop and the last few stragglers are packing up their things to head out. Once they’re gone things should be peaceful. No questions, no interruptions, no one getting on your nerves. 

“Have you been avoiding me?” Mingi asks, popping up in front of your desk. 

“Oh my god!” you gasp, clutching your chest, “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Kill you? How could I ever hurt a girl as pretty as you?” he says in that cocky tone you’ve become accustomed to. 

It’s been weeks since your first run in with Mingi and he’s been relentless ever since. He stops by every shift to ask you some silly question that somehow always turns into yet another attempt at flirting with you. You shoot him down every single time but he never seems offended or discouraged. He just keeps coming back all bright eyed and full of energy like a golden retriever. You’ve gone home every night wondering what his motivations are. Why’s he being so persistent? 

Sometimes for the hell of it you let yourself play with the idea that he might actually be attracted to you. Mingi is drop dead gorgeous after all and, even though you refuse to laugh at any of his stupid jokes, you find him pretty charming. For all his cockiness, he’s sweet in a way that makes you wonder what it might be like to be truly adored by a guy like him. This little fantasy of yours is always disrupted by the vision of Yunho laughing at the two of you. It’s a joke, that’s all, a stupid joke that Mingi’s cruel for not knowing when to give up on. 

“Aren’t you sick of coming here?” you ask, pretending to be busy on the laptop, “There must be something else you can entertain yourself with.”

Mingi smiles down at you, fawning over how your skin glows in the shreds of sunset that peek through the windows. “There is actually. I’m having a party tonight and I want you to come.”

Your eyes shoot open, an involuntary burst of joy hitting you. “A party?” you ask, sounding more excited than you intended to. Catching yourself, you reel back the excitement but it’s too late, Mingi’s already caught it. 

“Yeah, a party” he says, reaching behind the desk to grab a pen and a sticky note. He scribbles down the address and sticks it to your laptop screen. “Tell me you’ll come.”

He sounds so genuine when he says that. It’s almost as if he’s truly desperate to have you around. You look up at his face and feel the butterflies in your stomach go into a frenzy. You’ve heard the way other girls talk about him, the way they swoon over him like he’s this magical thing. You don’t want to be one of them, just another girl pining after Song Mingi but here you are. 

You clear your throat, snatching the blue sticky note from your screen, and putting it aside. “I don’t really know if I wanna spend my Friday night with a bunch of wasted pretty boys.”

“Ooh, so you do think I’m pretty” Mingi blushes, batting his eyelashes. 

You pick up a stapler, threatening to throw it at him, “Leave now and maybe, just maybe I’ll consider coming to your little party.”

Mingi throws his hands up, carefully backing away from the desk, “Fair enough. I’m wearing all black by the way. In case you wanted to, ya know, match or something.”

You wind your arm back, placing it in perfect formation to hit him in the head with the stapler. Mingi gets the message and scurries out of the door, leaning his head back in for a split second to whisper, “See you later, beautiful.” He winks at you and you groan but he’s gone now and there’s no one left to take your anger out on.

As the last few visitors trickle out you find yourself sitting in the silence of the library, that blue sticky note calling your name. You pick it up, swearing you’ll toss it in the trash but you only stare at it, reading the address over and over again. Some stupid frat party with a bunch of stupid boys at some frat house on the edge of campus. Why would you ever waste your time going to something like that? And who does he think he is insinuating that you’d even want to match with him? Anyway, you only have one good black dress and you’re sure it doesn’t even fit anymore. It isn’t even worth trying…is it?

“I’m telling you, this girl’s gorgeous and she’s super smart too. She knows everything about books and stuff, like, you can ask her anything and she just knows” Mingi rambles, grabbing another beer from the fridge. 

“Because it’s her job” Yunho teases, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

Mingi pops the beer open, flicking the metal top into a nearby trash can, “And how did she get that job? Because she’s smart.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve seen him like this over a girl…ever” Jongho says, stealing Mingi’s beer for himself.

“Well I think it’s cute. Mingi’s got a girlfriend” Wooyoung sings, making cute little hearts with his fingers.

“She’d be his girlfriend if she didn’t hate his guts” Yunho mumbles half heartedly. 

Mingi gasps, taking offense to that, “She doesn’t hate me, she just hasn’t fully warmed up to me yet but she will.”

He looks around the kitchen and his friends all eye him skeptically. Mingi didn’t say that with nearly enough confidence for them to believe him and the truth is that he barely believes himself but how does he tell his friends that? He’s the one who girls drool over. He’s never the one doing the drooling. He has a reputation at stake and here he is ruining it for a girl who probably won’t even show up tonight. But he can’t bring himself to give up on you yet. 

That first night after he met you he couldn’t get you out of his head. He kept imagining that face, that body, under him, on top of him, next to him. Just the thought of you made him hard enough that touching himself was mandatory to ease his need for you. And the more he showed up to bug you the more fascinating he came to find you.

Yes, you were snippy but never enough to directly chase him away. You let him stick around long enough for glimmers of your true personality to show. You’d made the terrible mistake of showing him how sweet you could be, how funny of a girl you are, and it only made things worse for both of you. More than having sex with you he wants to kiss you and hold your hand. He wants to tell you how pretty you are and not have you threaten him with a blunt object for it. 

“Not to be that guy but when did you start liking…ya know?” Jongho says, hoping that the others will know what he means without it coming off rude.

“Chubby girls?” Wooyoung asks, making Yunho almost choke on his beer. 

“You can’t just say that” Yunho coughs, grabbing a paper towel to wipe the beer from his lips. 

Mingi’s eyes narrow, the question not quite setting right with him, “What does it matter?” 

“I mean, it…it doesn’t. I swear it doesn’t” Jongho stammers, looking anywhere but at Mingi. 

Wooyoung shrugs, coming to Jongho’s rescue, “In his defense, we’ve never seen you with one. She’s not your usual type.”

“So, what? Just cause she’s not my ‘type’ it has to be weird?” Mingi presses. 

No one says anything, not a solitary word. They only stare at the doorway, their faces drained of any color. In the next room a party rages, in the kitchen an argument is ready to erupt, and there you stand in between the two hearing something you shouldn’t have at a time you shouldn’t have heard it. 

“Hmm, well, thank you for that. I’m so happy everyone knows what I already did” you say, laughing to avoid tears, “Thank you for the invite, Mingi. Really.” 

Something’s said, you’re sure it’s by Mingi, but you can’t hear it. You’ve gone numb to everything. Even the music blaring from the speakers a few feet from you feels like it’s playing from miles away. Desperate to outrun the tears stinging the corners of your eyes, you rush through the crowd of partiers in the living room and make your way outside.

The autumn air blows against your cheeks, cooling your tears as they begin to escape. You wipe them away, doing your best to look normal as you pass people headed into the party, but you can’t seem to stop them from falling. You feel so stupid for ever believing that Mingi’s feelings for you were anything but a joke he could laugh about with his friends. His words ring in your ears as you approach your car, frantically digging through your purse for your keys. Not his type? Well he isn’t yours either. You’ve never been too fond of assholes anyway. 

“Shit” you hiss, the keys in your hand tumbling from your grasp the second you pull them out. You bend down to pick them up but someone snatches them away before you can. You spin around to find Mingi standing there, your keys jingling away as they twirl around his fingers. 

“Give them back” you demand, grabbing for your keys but he holds them up high just out of your reach. 

“You’re crying” he says and you can almost see his heart shatter, “Come back inside.”

“Why? So you and your friends can make fun of me to my face this time?” you ask, still fighting for your keys back but to no avail. 

Mingi frowns, “Make fun of you? We weren’t making fun of you. I’d never let anyone do that to you.” 

“So, what? Just cause she’s not my type it has to be weird?” you mock, feeling childish but justified considering the circumstances. 

“I didn’t mean it like that. I only meant that just because I’ve dated smaller girls that doesn’t mean I can’t like you and I do. I really, really like you” he swears, “I love your body. I think it’s beautiful. Everything about you…I’m just obsessed with and all I wanna do is show you how special you are but you won’t let me and I don’t understand why.”

Folding your arms across your chest, you stand on the sidewalk staring at Mingi like you hate him but it’s not him that you hate. It’s the fact that you believe him. The tears have slowed now but your cheeks are still wet, black streaks of mascara beginning to run down your face. You drop your head, embarrassed by your mini breakdown, and Mingi swoops in, giving you a chest to lay your head on. His long arms wrap around you, locking behind your back to keep you close. It’s your instinct to pull away but his embrace is too comforting and warm to abandon. 

“If you want me to leave you alone forever I promise I will. I’ll let you go and you’ll never have to see me again” he whispers, “But if you stay I promise I’ll be good to you.” 

Your stomach sinks at the thought of never seeing him again. Day after day all you’ve done is tell him to leave you alone but it never occurred to you how much it’d hurt if he actually did. “I don’t want you to leave me alone” you admit, your face emerging from the black abyss of his shirt, “That’s, like, the exact opposite of what I want you to do.”

Mingi cups your face, his thumb stroking the curve of your cheek, “Good because I wasn’t actually gonna leave you alone. How can I when you look like this? You’re even a pretty crier. How’s that possible?”

You’ve always managed not to blush when Mingi’s said things like this—at least not when he’s around—but you don’t stop yourself this time. You don’t even make the tiniest attempt at hiding how utterly giddy you are over his comments. 

“Ooh, is that a smile I see?” he gasps, immediately making you regret it. You motion to hit him in the arm but he grabs you by the wrist, slipping his hand into yours as he leads you back towards the house. “Let’s go upstairs and I’ll clean you up then we can talk more, okay?”

Mingi looks back at you and you could swear that time stands still. This isn’t where you thought you’d be on a Friday night, walking through a frat party hand in hand with one of the most popular guys on campus—with Mingi. He’s guiding you up the stairs, looking at you like you’re the prettiest girl in the world and for the first time, somewhere deep down inside, you’re beginning to feel like it. 

Before you left the house tonight you swore that you wouldn’t become some frat party cliche. Mingi’s hot, there’s no doubt about it, but there was no way you’d wind up bent over some bed with your panties around your ankles.

You were actually right about that. You’re not bent over some bed, you’re laying across it, and your panties aren’t around your ankles, they’re tossed off to the side of the bed, blending in with the pile of black clothing you collectively shed before you found every inch of Mingi’s cock stuffed inside of you. You came up here to talk, that was it, and in your defense you did talk. You were vulnerable with each other, you opened up about your feelings, and the next thing you knew your tongues were so far in each other’s mouths that you could feel it in your throats. 

Mingi’s kiss is sweeter than you imagined. It’s the kind of kiss you could get lost in it. Even now, after he’s been kissing your lips raw for the last half hour, you find yourself wanting more. You’re so wrapped up in him, so completely consumed by the ecstasy of having him inside of you, that you aren’t even focused on the fact that you’re naked. You can’t begin to care if you look good or not when your body’s flush with heat, feeling the best it has in your entire life.

But you do look good. Nothing in Mingi’s wildest dreams could compare to how beautiful your body actually is. His hands explore your curves, discovering those spots he knows will come to be his favorites. That squishy belly of yours that pokes out just a bit more when he massages your sides. Those pillowy thighs that seem even thicker when he presses them to your chest. Those breasts that bounce softly against his face while he’s sucking at your bud.

“You’re so fucking amazing, baby” Mingi whispers, licking his way over the hills of your breasts to bring his lips to yours. “I do have a type. You know it’s you, right?”

“Is that so?” you tease, trembling at every stroke of his cock between the slickness of your walls. You run your fingers through his hair, your back arching against the mattress so much that you’re sure you’d float away if the weight of Mingi’s body weren’t pinning you down.

Mingi kisses you like a starved man whose hunger can only be satisfied by the taste of you. “Mmm, can’t you tell?” he hums between sloppy kisses, “Can’t you feel it?” 

He snaps his hips into you and you let out a moan that makes you grateful for the loud music blaring downstairs. Keeping his lips locked to yours, one hand gripping your hip and the other cradling your face, he thrusts into you harder. Hard enough to make the bed creak. Hard enough to make your walls clench tighter. Hard enough to have you tugging his hair, moaning between his lips while your decadent juices drip down his length.

Mingi groans, holding you even tighter as the head of his cock rides the ridges of your sweet spot. Your insides are so spongy and wet, clenching around him just right. There’s no way he can go back to masturbating after this. The thought of you won’t be enough. Fantasies are absolutely nothing compared to what it’s like to truly feel you under him and around him. 

“Mingi, mmm, gonna cum” you whimper, your eyes wide and glossy as you look up at him. 

You sound so cute when you say it that he loses his sanity for a second, his hips stuttering before picking up the rhythm again. Mingi slips both hands behind your neck, deepening the kiss as he bottoms out completely. Heat pools behind your belly, spreading through your body until you’re sure flames are dancing at your fingertips. Your body tenses, a weak little moan falling from your lips before your vision goes blurry and your high washes over you. 

“That’s it, good girl” Mingi coos, basking in the warmth enveloping him, “So pretty when you cum all over my cock. Always so pretty.” 

Your walls are pulsing, fluttering wildly around his swollen cock. Your cum just pours down him, making every movement slippery wet. He can’t take it anymore. He couldn’t hold back even if he tried. 

“Aah, fuck” he hisses, pulling out of you just in time to paint your inner thighs in white, leaving ropes of cum dripping dangerously close to your core. 

Completely destroyed by your orgasm, you’re plastered to the bed and can only watch as Mingi catches his breath, immediately going to work planting kisses all over your body. He kisses the places you love and the places you hate. He worships them all with his lips because to him they’re perfect in every way.

You surrender yourself to the reality of that, letting the lingering adoration from each kiss sink into your skin. Mingi’s yours, he has been since he first laid eyes on you in that library, all you ever had to do was let yourself have him. 

[pinayelf]

Stuff I Adore about Davrin ❤️

Positions himself as no-nonsense but actually has a soft heart, the little boy who sang to Halla never left

When Mila asks for payment for saving them at Weisshaupt he plays along and asks if Griffon kisses count 🥺

Cares about Rook's well-being regardless of romance, we joke about touching grass, but touching grass actually helps lol

"The road less traveled. That's how I found you."

Is understanding about Emmrich's lichdom (if you take that route) because he sees how much it means to Emmrich, even if he doesn't really understand that stuff

His big brown eyes when he goes 🥺

So so CHARMING. AND FOR WHAT 😭❤️

Skilled craftsman, like genuinely. He makes such detailed figures

Knight in shining armor hero type oughhh

Is going to write his own monster manual because he thinks no one else will do it right lmao "Fine I'll do it myself"

The most beautiful elf ever tbh

Is a sword and board warrior. I'm weak for that I fear

Customized his own armor to be able to represent him being a Warden and so it's utilitarian for his being a hunter

Will always consider himself Dalish no matter what

His friendship with Bellara, telling her she's got him

Acts stoic at first, but is actually a goofball

Non-chalantly telling Taash about the secrets of the Joining LMFAOOOO

Genuinely the bisexual boyfriend of my dreams (canon)

"From here on out it's pretty simple: wherever you are, there I am."