#give me a moment lots was happening in that scene

[anotherworld08]

☆Not So Secret☆

The Burrow was louder than usual, and that was saying a lot.

Spring had finally nudged winter out of the way, and the Weasley house was overflowing with life: windows flung open to let in sun and air, garden gnomes yelping as they were tossed over the fence, and Molly Weasley humming as she chopped vegetables for dinner.

Fred, however, was sweating bullets.

He wasn’t supposed to be here today. Or rather, she wasn’t. Y/N Malfoy — a name that had no business blending into a place like the Burrow — had dropped by under the most casual, innocent excuse: returning a charmed pocket-watch he’d left behind after their last Hogsmeade trip. She’d planned to apparate in, hand it off, and be gone before anyone even noticed.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

The plan started unraveling the moment she arrived. Fred had barely stepped out into the yard to meet her when the unmistakable pop of Apparition echoed from behind the house — and in true Weasley fashion, George rounded the corner almost immediately.

Fred barely had time to stuff the watch into his pocket when George’s voice rang out.

“Oi, Mum says get your lazy arse in for dinner —”

He froze mid-sentence, his eyes landing on Y/N. She stood perfectly still, looking only slightly less panicked than Fred, like a cat caught in a beam of lumos.

George blinked.

Y/N, to her credit, recovered first. She raised a single brow, cool as ever. “Evening.”

George looked between them, his mouth twitching slightly as he took in the scene: Fred looking like a kid caught stealing biscuits, and Y/N Malfoy standing in the Burrow’s backyard like she belonged there.

“Evening,” George echoed, tone dangerously casual. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Y/N tilted her head, giving the faintest hint of a smile. “Returning something Fred left behind. Thought I’d spare the owl the trip.”

George let the silence stretch for a beat too long. His sharp brown eyes flicked from her to Fred and back, piecing things together with uncomfortable ease.

“Well,” he said at last, “I hope whatever it was is worth all the trouble.”

Before Fred could muster even a half-baked excuse, Molly’s voice rang out from the kitchen window.

“Fred, who was that at the door?”

Fred cringed. Y/N, knowing the jig was up, lifted a hand in silent farewell and Disapparated with a soft crack, leaving behind only the faint scent of lavender and the sound of Fred’s stomach sinking to his shoes.

“Friend from school!” Fred called back, a little too loudly, turning to find George still staring at him.

George folded his arms. “Friend, huh?”

Fred sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, look. I was going to tell you. I just… didn’t.”

George snorted. “You think I’m daft? The way you looked at her just now, mate — Merlin’s beard, you might as well have been carrying a banner that said ‘I fancy her.’”

Fred groaned. “George—”

But George just clapped a hand on his shoulder, and his voice, when it came, was surprisingly gentle.

“Malfoy, though? Bloody hell. You don’t half make things interesting.”

Before Fred could respond, the kitchen door banged open. Ginny poked her head out, squinting into the evening light.

“Who was that? Thought I saw someone standing with you.”

Fred froze. George, bless his soul, didn’t miss a beat.

“Just some owl delivery. Wrong house.”

Ginny frowned, clearly suspicious but not invested enough to argue. She disappeared back inside.

George turned back to Fred with a smirk. “You’re lucky I’m good under pressure.”

Fred let out a laugh, more nervous than amused. “I owe you one.”

“You owe me more than one, mate,” George said, tapping his temple. “But you’d better tell the rest of the family before someone else catches her here. You know Mum’s got eyes like a hawk.”

Fred never got the chance to come clean on his own terms.

Two days later, it happened. Spectacularly.

It was a Sunday. Sundays at the Burrow meant two things: laundry flapping on the line, and the entire house crammed around the table for Molly’s roast dinner. Fred had managed to go about the day with relative calm, though the memory of Y/N’s visit still sat sharp in his mind.

After the plates were cleared, Arthur decided to fiddle with his latest Muggle gadget: an old two-way mirror he’d enchanted to work like a Muggle “video phone.” Everyone took turns poking at it, half-bored, until George, grinning devilishly, swiped it from Percy’s hands.

“Let’s see if this thing can make prank calls,” he joked, tapping the side of the mirror as if dialing.

But the mirror, apparently still linked to its last user, flickered to life on its own.

Fred froze the moment the glass brightened. There, clear as day, was Y/N — sitting comfortably in her room, brushing her hair. The golden “M” crest on the bedpost behind her was unmistakable.

The room went silent.

She hadn’t noticed the connection yet, humming softly to herself, until Arthur, squinting, leaned in.

“Isn’t that—?”

Y/N glanced at the mirror, blinked, and then her face went from curious to horrified in half a heartbeat.

“Fred,” she said flatly.

Fred buried his face in his hands.

Y/N, ever the composed Slytherin, straightened her posture and gave the mirror an unflinching, if slightly resigned, smile. “Well. I suppose the secret’s out.”

There was a long, long pause.

Molly was the first to speak, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re dating a Malfoy.”

It wasn’t a question.

Fred looked up sheepishly, ears burning. “Yeah. I am.”

For a moment, no one moved. Then, slowly, George leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head, whistling low under his breath.

“I knew it,” he muttered, more proud than surprised.

Ron’s mouth opened and closed like a gaping fish, Hermione beside him looked vaguely scandalized, and Ginny wore an expression that landed somewhere between “disappointed sister” and “impressed troublemaker.”

Arthur, bless him, only adjusted his glasses and gave Fred a measured look. “She seems polite.”

Molly, on the other hand, looked like she needed to sit down, which she did, rather heavily.

“Of all the girls in Britain, Fred,” she said, shaking her head, though her voice was more baffled than angry. “A Malfoy?”

Fred rubbed the back of his neck, shifting in his chair like it was covered in spikes. “She’s not like them, Mum. I swear. She’s smart, and funny, and — I don’t know. She’s different.”

Y/N, still visible in the mirror, raised a brow at the understatement but said nothing, waiting.

Arthur cleared his throat, glancing between his wife and the mirror. “Well, dear, it seems Fred’s already made up his mind. And if the girl’s willing to put up with this lot, she must have some patience.”

Molly looked at her son, then at the girl in the mirror. Mauve held her gaze, calm and unapologetic. Finally, Molly exhaled a long, slow breath.

“I suppose I’ll have to meet you properly then, won’t I?”

Y/N smiled, sharp but sincere. “I’d like that, Mrs. Weasley.”

When the mirror blinked dark again, the room buzzed back to life, half the family talking over each other, and Fred sat there, still stunned but oddly lighter.

Later that night, Fred found George leaning against the back garden fence, hands stuffed into his pockets.

“You’re braver than I gave you credit for,” George said without turning around. “Not for dating her — for hiding it from Mum.”

Fred chuckled, joining him, the night cool and soft around them. “You’re not angry?”

George shook his head. “Nah. I figured it out the second I saw you two in the yard. Malfoy or not, I haven’t seen you this stupidly happy in years.”

Fred smiled, the tension finally bleeding out of his shoulders. “It’s serious, you know.”

“I know,” George said simply. “And I’m glad.”

The two of them stood there a while longer, watching the stars blink awake in the darkening sky.

And for the first time in weeks, Fred knew — really knew — that everything was going to be alright.

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Yandere AIB Boys - Restraining Order

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female reader

Summary: (Normal world AU) Filing a restraining order against him was supposed to solve your problems, but it only makes it worse. [Arisu, Karube, Niragi]

WARNINGS: Stalking; Manipulation; Violence. 

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback 😊

Hope you like this @ccaarro (idea credit goes to her)

--

Arisu

“Please, just– just listen to me… All I want is to talk.” 

Your face heats up, exasperation and frustration building up inside you like a volcano. You’re tired from work and being ambushed by Arisu right after the restraining order only adds up to your annoyance.

The parking lot is practically empty, only a few cars left. You would be scared if you didn’t know that Arisu is physically incapable of hurting you. 

 You fish inside the purse, searching for your keys with the shiny moonlight as the only source of light and Arisu stares at you with big desperate eyes. His hair is all messy, clothes wrinkled.

He looks so miserable and distressed that you almost feel bad about him …

... almost. 

“This is all a big misunderstanding, please, you have to understand!” he tries, “I’m not a creep, I swear I’m not.”

You look back, glaring at him for a moment before diving your face back into your purse. Those damn keys. 

“Arisu, just… go home.” you say, finally getting a hold of your car keys. “And leave me alone.”

You turn towards him, a few more prepared words ready for him. A yelp escapes from your lips at the sudden collision against his body. 

“What-”

Arisu backs out immediately, hands in the air to placate you. 

“I… you’re not understanding me. Please, just let me explain, okay?” he rushes to say, before you can stop him. 

“I love you. I love you so much.” you glare at him, and Arisu gulps but doesn’t falter. “And I know that you don’t feel the same for me, but if you just give me one chance…. I’ll give you so much love, I’ll always keep you happy - no matter what."

"And please… I’ll do whatever I have to do to make you understand that.” 

Karube

There’s a commotion rising near the entrance of your office, you can hear it from the street as you approach the building. That’s unusual. You strut forward, getting your company ID card, ready to clock in.  

“I’m not leaving without talking to her, damnit!” the shouting voice is awfully familiar, the sight of the bleached blonde hair even more so. Oh no!

You stare as the scene unfolds in front of you. Karube curses, hand rubbing his hair in a frustrated motion as the doorman doesn’t allow him to enter.

It feels like a slow motion scene when his eyes meet yours, his face lightening up with recognition. Your legs move too slow, only making it to the corner of the street before you’re caught. 

You yelp right before Karube grabs you, dragging you by the wrist to the nearest empty alley.

It happens too fast, your mind swirling with emotions and thoughts, your voice swallowed down by your helplessness. You’ve never been good at confrontation. 

“Have you lost your mind?!” Karube is on you the moment your back is against the cement wall. His hands grab your face, strong and determined, forcing you to look at him.

“Huh?! What were you thinking? A restraining order? From my own girlfriend? Fuck no.” 

“Karube, just… just calm down–”

“Why are you being so melodramatic, hein? We’re in love, we love each other.” he vehemently declares, and you shiver at the flurry of emotions that paint his face.

This isn’t the Karube you fell in love with.

No, this new Karube is someone that scares you to the core. Someone that tries to control you down to the smallest things, someone that despises your own freedom. 

“Listen, okay, just listen to me.” his hands dig deeper into the soft skin of your face, immobilizing you.

His breath rages on your face and the slight hint of whiskey makes you nauseous. “That restraining order… that damn thing doesn’t change anything for us. Okay?”

“I’m not letting that come between us. I’m not letting anything come between us.”

Niragi

The banging on the bedroom door grows in volume. More insistent, more aggressive. You’re scared it won’t hold out for much longer and your heart races wildly at the thought. 

You should call the police. Call your parents. Call anyone that might help you. Except your phone is currently sitting in the kitchen while you’re barricaded in the small pantry of the apartment. Damn it. 

“Oi, open up the door.” a nasty punch is delivered on cue, the door shaking on its hinges. “Do you really want me to break it down? Cause I will, damnit.” 

Terror swells inside you, pushing on your chest like heavy stones. He’s angry - of course he’s angry.

Why wouldn’t he be after being delivered with a restraining order? 

A pathetic attempt at a threat. Practically an insult thrown his way. Now that you think about it, it was never a good idea. But fear makes you do stupid things. 

The banging increases in power, Niragi’s laughter filling your ears. 

“If you open this door, I’ll go nicer on you. Don’t you want that?” he yells. “Open this door and I might not break your entire face, doll. Just a punch or two as a punishment.”

You scrunch your face, hand curling on your chest as if to keep you grounded. 

You stare at the door, helpless. The lock shakes and rattles, growing weaker by the moment.  

There’s a moment of silence that marks the nail in the coffin, your heart thumping in your ears. The lock finally gives up, breaking apart as it reveals an euphoric Niragi.

He kicks the door to the side, with a victorious chuckle. 

“You look scared. Trembling like a leaf.” he remarks, cracking his head to the side. “Looks like that restraining order of yours didn’t work, huh.” 

[shadowofthesun123]

Wednesday Season 2 Тeaser analysis and theories

So, I watched the teaser twice at 0.25 speed, about five more times at regular speed, and read every theory I could find.

Here are some theories that seem interesting to me (spoiler allert):

1. As many people have already mentioned, Wednesday visits Tyler twice. Once, likely to strike a deal, and the second time to free him.

Or maybe the first time she finds out she's his master, and the second time she sets him free.

These shots seem to be from the same scene at the hospital:

In the last frame with Thing, you can see the same red alarm light in the background as in the shots with Hyde in the hallway.

And the Tyler's smirk shot is likely the moment when the collar's power shuts off.

Since they probably wouldn’t show anything from post-hiatus episodes in the teaser, this will likely happen within the first four episodes. After that, Tyler and Wednesday probably will be forced to work together, with lots of sexual tension, I hope.

Possibly, Wednesday will hide Tyler in “their” place, and he’ll either help her in the second half of the season or start playing his own game.

2. It seems like Wednesday’s visions will spiral out of control and start harming her physically.

This frame in particular is really unsettling:

I don’t think it’s Wednesday in the drawing. It looks like an Addams ancestor who was also a raven and started crying black blood. I think the scene where Wednesday has black tears is when she sees a vision about this person.

I’m guessing Lady Gaga will play this ancestor. And I think the broken gravestone we saw belongs to her.

The second theory (less likely) is that in the drawing is Francoise, and her story is somehow connected to the Addams family.

3. The doll scene seems like a side plot since it happens before Nevermore.

Later, Wednesday probably takes one of those dolls and gives it to Enid.

Share what do you think about it and what else you found interesting in the teaser!

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

Top Form catch up time! My mental health can be...tricky, so sometimes when I know an angsty episode is on deck, I wait until the next week so I can head right into the following, hopefully less angsty episode. So I'm starting with 6 today.

This also means that with more to watch, I don't remotely have the kind of time where I can jot down a ton of thoughts, so I will probably just stick to the most highlight-worthy moments with my babies.

Ok, episode 6.

I love when Akin just can't contain himself anymore.

Also love that Jin is 100% aware he's in love with a black cat, and knows Akin's pseudo-grumpiness is a love language.

Excellent to see a little of Jin's dangerous side.

So far his obsession has been so polite, but I like a little edge in there. It's bad to underestimate how dangerous a dog can be just because it's cute and fluffy.

Hmm, y'know - I expected that final scene to be a lot harder to watch based on people's reactions last week.

It also makes me a little sad I saw so many people criticizing both Akin and Jin in this episode, because I feel like the writing did an incredible job of making both of them so relatable in this moment.

Akin is clearly still having trouble accepting he was assaulted. Which is not surprising, because we live in a world where there is so little support and so much judgement and shame thrown at men who are victims. He's still trying to process what happened to him, blaming himself, while also dealing being in love for the first time (which he's also still a bit in denial about), with someone who has him on a pedestal, with a big part of himself expecting it will inevitably end anyway, because everything good in his life always does.

And then Jin, who is still very young, and has been deeply in love and obsessed with Akin for years, and had this moment of feeling like all his work would finally get him on the same level and worthy of Akin, is operating on pure emotion, and the sudden horrible fear that he will never be enough for Akin.

I thought it was beautifully written and incredibly acted.

Ok, let's move on, episode 7!

Again with the visuals!

I'm really enjoying the "thou" language too, which I assume means they're using an older style of Thai in the play?

Ok, so what Johnny did is assault and utterly inexcusable. But I do find it interesting how clear they are making it that he is someone who sees his own body as a commodity, for transactional purposes. It does give some insight into his character. You don't grow up with healthy examples of intimate relationships and then treat yourself, or other people like that. Again - not an excuse for what he did! But he's not some mustache-twirling villain, he's a fucked up human being.

My babies, *sob*

Also how much Smart has to stoop here, lol.

THEIR ACTING IS SO GOOD

My heart might literally explode

I know that technically the shower sex is to show the cleansing off of what happened to Akin with Johnny

but I like to think it's also a result of them having to spend so long cleaning the honey off last time.

Goddamn, you two.

Also there is no way Akin will ever be able to sleep with anyone else, he gets utterly body-worshipped every time by Jin. This man is once again having a religious experience.

Domestic era!

Also Akin in glasses.

I know episode 8 can be fast tracked, but I'm not a fan of that business model, so I'm gonna wait. But glad we got so much JinAkin cuteness/hotness this episode!

[forever-and-whats-left]

If I were in charge of a Phantom of the Opera adaptation

This is going to be a lot of bullet points. And long. Be warned.

Pitch:

Any angle at which a phantom could be adapted has already been done. It's become a trope to do Phantom of the Opera, but ___ happens. That stands to be most of the adaptations' downfall. They don't see the real meat of the story proper and instead choose to use its bones to make a less interesting take. Phantom deserves a rework that elevates the established material. Taking the "beats" and changing them to a pacing that suits a modern audience.

Since the mystery of "the phantom" is already a well-known(the phantom being a man rather than a ghost), taking its lesser-known mystery stands to fit better -- the unreliability. Gaston Leroux sits nicely in the gothic journalistic genre. Each character has their own story to tell about the phantom, yet the truth is stranger than fiction. Often, what is stated about the Phantom says more about the speaker than Erik himself.

Side rant:

I would generally rid the story of its padding. Instead, exploring further scenes that were just left to exposition. Off the top of my head, the masquerade and Christine's time in the lair would be one of those moments.

What would you like to see further explored? Be it characters, backstories, or particular moments.

Casting:

Raoul:

The top example in my mind is young Daniel Bruhl and Ewan McGregor.

They must have the range to pull off "crazed" and "boy next door." The actor's charm would go a long way in making his character stomachable. Which I know is a problem. Half the people who read the book walk away hating his character. It doesn't do much to support the drama to have him be completely unlikable.

Christine:

Her voice should sit at a higher pitch. I don't want there to be a forced or breathy quality, just someone you could believe is a soprano.

The actor's range would be the second hardest to find in the cast. Someone who can pull grief-stricken, dreamy-eyed, and sassy all at once.

Visual appearance doesn't matter much to me. So long as she doesn't look too modern.

Erik:

The pitch of his voice doesn't matter. So long as it sounds beautiful. Not the deep or thirst trap beautiful -- genuinely silky. If you catch my drift.

Build doesn't matter, so long as he's tall. Preferably very thin. But I wouldn't want to put the actors in harm's way just for accuracy's sake.

The hardest range in the cast to hit. He must be able to pull off crazed, desperate, domineering, and clever, all while being pitiable. That's an ability few men possess.

Ability to wear SFX makeup. No allergies.

The Persian

His voice is deep in my mind, but I can be easily swayed.

The only member of the cast whose nationality matters. For obvious reasons.

Must have the range to pull off a firm yet empathetic presence. I want those watching to see that, despite his anger, he only wants Erik to do better.

I could go on, but I'm sure this is the only members of the cast any of you care about.

Visuals:

The budget can only go so far. It's choosing between good visuals, realistic visuals, and time. If I were to choose what I want most, it would be good visuals. I'm sorry. We'd probably be sapping up all the budget on Erik's SFX LOL.

My main goal would be interesting directorial takes. But, sometimes, especially with long-running things like TV shows, you have to give up artistic intent for time.

[raddestrose]

Did he just slip up?

[astralhope]

- Ehi you, are you alright? -

- Let's win. -

- Uh!? -

- Leviathan Dragon, attack that face down defense position monster! -

- Like I said, this is so suppose to be my duel! -

Yuma and Astral in episode 6

[akkivee]

THE VOICE ACTING IN THE ENTIRE KUUKOU VS HITOYA CONFRONTATION GETS ME GOING EVERY TIME

[longagoitwastuesday]

While I loved that interaction, that is all we got about something that could be taken as two of the most important (alive) people in Gojo's life mentioning him, thinking of him with fondness, or coming anywhere close to mourning him.

Then we got two pages of resolution of whatever emotional turmoil these two have going on

[cowboyskeletons]

flower language rocks. i should do more art with it

[cutehoons02]

Leather jackets

*pairing: frat gym rat boy Jay x book girl

*trope: sunshine boy x shy girl

*synopsis: What would happen if you were lying to read a slightly "spicy" book and not fit to read in the university library, Jay Park as well as one of the most popular guys at the university find out that you are not so innocent as you want to make believe? between betting, books with jokes cliche, stolen kisses, gym sessions with Jay what could happen to the book girl and gym rat boy of the university?

*tags: Lots of fun, they love to tease each other, the protagonist is slightly shy and a little insecure about her physique, fake innocent girl, needy Jay, touchy Jay, green flag boy, reading books spicy (Twisted Games, The spanish Love And Deception) virgin reader, protected sex,masturbation, fingering, pacifiers, pet names (bookgirl,princess,sweatheart)

14k (🤎)

💌The request and ideas were written by @m3wkledreamy for this story (thanks a lot for your help)

(English is not my native language)

You had just finished writing the draft of your essay for Contemporary Literature and Media. You had spent hours trying to piece together a coherent analysis of how Romanticism had evolved in modern novels, and your brain was now frying. You deserved a break.

Without thinking twice, you pulled Twisted Games out of your bag. Just one chapter was enough to make you escape from the reality of assignments, notes, and presentations. You curled up in the most secluded armchair in the library and began reading, immediately immersing yourself in the forbidden world of Bridget and Rhys.

"You know you shouldn't provoke me, Princess," Rhys growled, his deep voice rough against her skin.

Bridget felt a shiver down her spine, but she didn’t move. "What if I want to provoke you?"

Rhys's eyes darkened, his hand tightening around her waist, and in the blink of an eye, his lips fused with hers. The kiss was everything she had wanted and feared: burning, possessive, unforgettable...

"Burning, possessive, unforgettable, huh?"

A deep, amused male voice suddenly echoed above you.

Your heart skipped a beat, and with fear in your eyes, you spun around quickly.

There, standing next to you with a book in one hand and headphones around his neck, was Jay Park. The Jay Park. The one every girl at school sighed over while he ran a hand through his messy hair after a workout. He was the one who always had that smug grin on his lips. The one who, for some reason, was now looking at you with an amused expression.

"...What the hell are you doing?" you stammered, snapping the book shut as if it were radioactive.

Jay shrugged casually, sitting down on the armchair next to yours. Too close.

"I needed a quiet spot to read," he said, giving you a sly look. "But then I saw you... and, well, I couldn’t resist."

You clenched the book in your hands, your face burning. "Resist what, exactly?"

Jay crossed his arms behind his head, relaxed as if you were just two friends chatting normally. "A book girl so absorbed in her reading that she doesn’t even notice a guy like me right behind her."

She swallowed hard. He had been behind me the whole time?!

"You weren’t... reading out loud, were you?" you asked, a slight note of panic in your voice.

Jay bit his lip as if trying to hold back a laugh. "No, but with a scene like that, I didn’t need to. The blush on your face says it all."

You shot him a glare. "I’m not blushing."

Jay leaned forward, resting his elbow on the armrest of your chair, so close you could smell his aftershave. "No? Strange, because you look about to explode."

You cleared your throat, desperately trying to regain some dignity. "And since when does the gym rat boy care about books?"

Jay raised an eyebrow, the grin widening. "Gym rat boy? Now you’re giving me nicknames?"

"Call it poetic justice," you retorted, crossing your arms to give yourself a bit of confidence. "Since you like to tease people so much."

Jay stared at you for a moment, as if studying you, then shook his head with a satisfied smirk. "You know, you're more fun than I thought." You felt even more embarrassed. You weren’t sure if you should take it as a compliment or a mockery. Jay set the book he had in his hand on the table—a large volume on business management and international tourism. "Anyway, for your information, I do read. Just… more useful stuff." You glanced at the title and wrinkled your nose. "Bleh. Sounds boring." "And you? Do you get slapped by sexy bodyguards and rebel princesses?" You stiffened. "N-Not like that!" Jay laughed, clearly amused by your reaction. Then, as if he had an idea, he looked at you with mischievous, sparkling eyes. "How about a bet, book girl?" You blinked. "A bet?" He nodded, crossing his arms. "You come to the gym with me and do a workout without complaining, no sighing, no running away. I'll read an entire romance novel… the one you pick." You stared at him incredulously. "An entire book?" Jay made a vague gesture with his hand. "Sure. I'm a man of my word." Then he leaned closer to you, his voice low and provocative. "But be warned, if you lose… you'll have to come to the gym with me all week." You felt a shiver run down your spine. Why did it always feel like Jay Park was playing with fire? You eyed him suspiciously. "And if I win and manage to finish the workout?" Jay grinned like a cat that just caught a mouse. "Then I'll read an entire romance novel… and I’ll have to discuss it with you or watch a movie you love, I bet those 2000s romcoms." You stared at him, torn. On one hand, you knew you had no chance of surviving a workout with him. On the other, the idea of actually seeing him read a romantic book and suffer through the cheesy scenes was just too tempting to pass up. In the end, you sighed. "Deal." Jay extended his hand. "Handshake to seal the deal?" You hesitated for a second, then shook it. Mistake. His grip was firm and warm, and the intensity with which he looked at you made your heart skip a beat. Damn it, why was he so good at making you feel embarrassed? Jay squeezed your hand slightly before letting go, the victorious grin still on his lips. "Get ready, book girl. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into."

Three days.

Three days had passed since Jay Park had caught you reading Twisted Games and proposed a ridiculous bet.

Now, sitting exactly in the same corner of the library, you were drumming your fingers on the table, uncertain about what to hope for.

What if he didn’t show up?

That would be a relief. Her, at the gym? Come on. Just the thought of being surrounded by all those athletic guys, with their sculpted abs and ridiculously heavy weights, made her anxious. You weren’t that type of girl. The curves you had always made you feel out of place, too aware of every outfit that clung to her.

You had to admit it: you were insecure.

And Jay... well, Jay Park was the type of guy who seemed born for the gym.

Maybe he’d forgotten. Maybe it was just a joke.

"I missed you, book girl."

There, standing next to you, was Jay Park.

Damn.

His hair was soft and slightly messy as if he’d just run a hand through the dark strands. He wore a gray sweater that fit perfectly over his broad shoulders and a pair of dress pants that contrasted with his usual sporty vibe. Casual, but damn attractive.

She immediately looked down, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.

"I thought you had forgotten..." you mumbled, trying to sound indifferent.

Jay casually sat across from you placing his phone and a water bottle on the table. "Forget? Not at all. I came to get my book."

"So... are you really going to read it?"

Jay leaned back in his chair with a mischievous smile. "Well, let’s just say I’m curious to see what’s so special about your book boyfriends."

You stared at him for a moment, then, with a deep breath, pulled a book from your bag and handed it to him.

"The Spanish Love and Deception."

Jay took it and looked at the cover. Slowly, he raised an eyebrow and glanced back at her with an amused expression.

"Colleagues, tension, forbidden attraction..." he murmured, flipping through a few pages. Then he looked at her with sparkling curiosity. "So, tell me... is Aaron your type?"

You stiffened, surprised by the question. "W-What?"

Jay leaned forward slightly, his voice low. "Aaron," he repeated, emphasizing the name. "Is he your perfect book boyfriend?"

You lowered your gaze, biting your lip. You didn’t want to admit it out loud, but yes… Aaron was exactly the kind of guy who made your heart beat faster. Sarcastic, charming, protective, but with a heart of gold.

"...Maybe," you whispered softly.

Jay smiled, amused. "Maybe? You don’t seem convinced."

You pressed your lips together, trying to ignore the way he was studying you. "It’s just... well, he’s the classic guy who knows what to say, how to treat a girl. He’s affectionate, but not suffocating. And romantic."

Jay nodded as if analyzing every word. "I see." He ran a hand through his hair and smirked. "So, you like romantic guys, huh?"

You felt your face heat up. "I-I didn’t say that..."

Jay chuckled softly. "Oh no, you did." He flipped through a few more pages, then looked up at her. "I wonder if Aaron would be man enough to handle a workout session with me."

You stared at him, confused. "What?"

Jay closed the book with a slight thud and leaned in even closer, his voice low and provocative.

"Tomorrow. 4 p.m. Gym."

You felt your breath catch. "T-Tomorrow?"

Jay nodded with a satisfied smile. "Just reminding you, the bet applies to both of us, princess. I’ll read your book..." he paused, his gaze flashing with pure mischief, "and you come with me to work out."

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest.

"But..." you desperately searched for an excuse, anything to get her out of this nightmare. "What if I’m not up for it?"

Jay stood up, sliding the book through his hands. "Oh, you’ll be up for it. It’ll be fun." He moved a little closer, leaning slightly toward her. "Who knows… maybe Aaron would even join you."

You shot him a death glare, but he chuckled, shaking his head.

"See you tomorrow, book girl."

And with that satisfied smirk, Jay Park walked away, leaving you completely in a panic.

16:00 – University Gym Lobby

You felt completely out of place. The gym was huge, with mirrors along every wall, rows of exercise machines, and athletic guys and girls lifting weights as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Not your scene.

You pulled your oversized shirt tighter around you, lowering your gaze to your black, form-fitting leggings. At least those made you feel a bit more comfortable; they made your legs look longer and leaner. But the rest of your body? No, thanks. Better to hide.

You fixed your high ponytail and took a deep breath. Come on, you could do this. It was just a bet.

Then you saw him, and you immediately regretted coming. Jay was whistling near the equipment, completely at ease, wearing an absurd tank top that hugged his sculpted physique.

Oh. My. God.

It was worse than you’d imagined. Much, much worse.

His biceps seemed to beg to be touched. His shoulders were wide and strong, but not excessive. And then there were the veins on his arms... those damned veins that stood out perfectly against his golden skin.

And his hands. Oh my god, his hands.

In your books, you’d read hundreds of descriptions of buff guys, but none of those words had prepared you for this. Jay Park didn’t look like he came out of a romance novel. He was the romance.

You felt yourself blush fiercely and desperately tried to look away, but it was too late.

Jay had seen you, and his smirk widened dangerously.

“Book girl.”

His deep voice made you flinch. Jay approached with his usual relaxed stride, holding a folded piece of paper in his hands. His eyes scanned you from head to toe, lingering for a moment on your loose shirt before moving back up to your face.

You bit the inside of your cheek, already knowing what was about to happen.

Jay tilted his head, amused. “Where are your book boyfriends? I was expecting you to have one of them by your side.”

You turned your gaze away, crossing your arms over your chest. “W-Who says they’re not here?”

Jay chuckled softly. “Sweetheart, if Aaron were here, he’d already be working out with me.” He ran a hand through his hair and got even closer until you could smell his masculine cologne.

Damn. He smelled too good.

You stiffened, but he seemed to be enjoying the situation.

“Anyway,” he continued, unfolding the paper in his hands, “here’s your workout plan. I made it myself.”

You stared at him suspiciously. “Should I be worried?”

Jay smiled. “Oh.” Then he leaned in slightly toward you, lowering his voice. “I hope you’re ready to sweat, princess.”

“Lower, book girl.”

You froze instantly, your face was already flushed from stretching, but now it was on fire. You slowly turned toward Jay, who was looking at you with a satisfied smirk.

“E-Excuse me?” you stammered, gripping your knees to keep your balance.

Jay stood next to you, crossing his arms over his chest. “You need to lean more. You’re not stretching the muscles properly.” Then, with almost provocative slowness, he bent down, demonstrating the correct movement. And damn, did he do it well.

His muscles contracted perfectly under the tank top, and you had to concentrate hard not to stare for too long.

Jay glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “What’s wrong? Are you distracted?”

You quickly composed yourself. “No! I’m just...” You took a deep breath and tried to bend further down, ignoring the way Jay was watching you with amusement.

“Better?”

Jay nodded but then tilted his head with a mischievous look. “Yeah… though you could still go a little lower.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

Jay raised his hands innocently. “Not. I just want you to train well. You know, maybe Aaron in your books doesn’t need stretching, but here in the real world...”

You huffed, trying to ignore the quickening beat of your heart. “You’re insufferable.”

Jay chuckled. “Thanks, I know.”

TREADMILL – 20 MINUTES OF TORTURE

“Are you sure you can handle it, book girl?”

You shot Jay a glare as he, with absurd ease, ran on the treadmill next to you without a hint of exhaustion.

You, on the other hand, were already cursing every life choice you’d made.

“I’m fine.” You tried to sound natural, slightly increasing the speed. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you collapse.

Jay raised an eyebrow, amused. “Really? Because it looks like you're starting to sweat.”

You clenched your jaw and pushed yourself even harder, refusing to give up. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you surrender.

For a full twenty minutes, you kept the pace, even though your legs burned and your breath got shorter and shorter. When the timer finally stopped, you slowed to a walk and stepped off the machine with shaky legs.

Jay followed you, still completely relaxed, not a drop of sweat on him. Unfair.

“Wow,” he said, walking closer, “I didn’t think you’d last this long.”

You let out a slight gasp, trying to catch your breath. “I told you I wasn’t giving up.”

Jay looked at you with a mischievous smile, then reached out and brushed your face lightly.

You froze. “W-What are you doing?”

Jay gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “You had a piece of hair out of place.”

The light touch of his skin against yours sent shivers down your spine. He was too close. Too damn close.

Jay tilted his head, studying your face. “Hey, you’re all red.”

You pulled back sharply, embarrassed. “It’s from the effort, okay?”

Jay chuckled, hands on his hips. “Are you sure? Because it looks like you’re embarrassed.”

“I’m not embarrassed!”

He laughed again, that gym rat satisfaction in his expression. Then he clapped his hands and gestured toward an area of the gym with a nod of his head.

“Alright, princess. Now we move on to legs.”

You stared at him wide-eyed. “What?!”

Jay winked at you. “I promise this will be the most fun part.”

Jay led you to one of the machines and pointed to the seat. “Come on, book girl, sit here.” You hesitated, eyeing the infernal machine Jay was making you sit on.

“Now you have to push your legs out,” he explained, squatting beside you, running his hand along the selected weight. “It helps tone and strengthen your muscles.”

You nodded absentmindedly until your eyes landed on the number displayed. 30 kg.

Thirty. Kilograms.

You stared at it in disbelief. “Are you insane?”

Jay laughed under his breath. “No, you’re just out of shape.” He stood up with a smooth motion, cracking his shoulders. “I do it with 80, so consider yourself lucky.”

You rolled your eyes and adjusted yourself on the seat, positioning your legs against the pads. “Thirty times?” you asked, hoping for some form of mercy.

Jay leaned against the machine, crossing his arms over his chest. “Thirty times.” Then he winked. “If you want, you can stop early, but only if you admit I’m stronger than you.”

You clenched your jaw. “Forget it.”

You inhaled deeply and pushed with all your strength. The weight wasn’t impossible, but it still required a lot of effort. After the first ten reps, your muscles start to burn.

Jay was watching you intently. His expression had changed now. He wasn’t just teasing you… he was watching.

The way your legs moved around the machine, the skin stretched tight under the leggings. How the loose shirt had just risen slightly, revealing a hint of your slightly tanned belly. And then there was the way your chest moved ever so slightly with each push. Jay tilted his head, watching you with slightly narrowed eyes. A full third? Or maybe a fourth? The thought hit him suddenly, and his gaze briefly dropped to your lips. They were a bit fuller than usual… What would it be like to kiss them? You were beautiful, and it was strange that in all the months he had seen you in the halls or at school, you were never walking arm in arm-with a guy. A part of him was glad you didn’t have a boyfriend because deep down, he was starting to be interested in you…

A sudden snap of fingers in front of his eyes brought him back to reality. Jay blinked, bringing his gaze back to you, who was watching him suspiciously. "Hey," you said, a bit hesitant, "are you still with us, or do you need a moment?" Jay cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow slightly to hide the fact that he had been lost in his thoughts. "I was just checking your form." You curled your lips into a grimace. You didn’t seem convinced. You ran a hand over your shirt and pulled it down slightly, lowering your gaze. Jay noticed the movement and your eyes dropping, almost insecure about the small piece of exposed belly. "I'm done," you murmured, avoiding eye contact. For some strange reason, Jay didn’t feel as amused anymore and nodded.

Jay positioned himself in front of you with a relaxed expression, placing his feet shoulder-width apart. "Watch closely, book girl," he said, slowly lowering himself into a perfect squat. "Back straight, weight on your heels… and then you come back up." You nodded, trying to focus on his words and not on how his black tank top stretched over his broad shoulders as he moved. Damn, Jay and his gym rat body. You were about to attempt replicating the movement when a shrill voice interrupted the moment. -Jay! What a surprise to see you here!- You looked up and found yourself facing a cheerleader in uniform. Tall, slim, confident. Perfect. The girl approached with a dazzling smile, positioning herself next to Jay with a self-assurance you could never have. -I always see you training with the guys, but today you've got company?- Her gaze briefly rested on you, almost distractedly, before it went back to Jay. You pulled your oversized shirt tighter, feeling the insidious weight of insecurity settle over you. It was silly to feel this way. But the way the girl’s uniform perfectly hugged her body, showing it off without a hint of hesitation… it was everything you weren’t. You lowered your gaze, taking a deep breath to push those thoughts away, focusing on your feet to avoid looking at the scene before you. Then you felt a light pinch at your side. "Hey!" You jolted, spinning around. Jay was looking at you with an amused grin. "What are you doing, getting distracted?" he asked, leaning slightly toward you. You shot him a glare, and he moved back slightly. "Don’t do that again." Jay raised an eyebrow. "Why? It’s fun watching you jump." "Because I don’t want to be touched." For a moment, Jay looked at you without saying anything. His smile faded slightly, and his gaze became more serious. Then he nodded. "Okay." His voice no longer held the usual lightness. He seemed sincere. With a nod of his chin, he signaled for you to get into position.

"Now, let’s see how you handle the squats." You focused on the movement, trying to ignore the fact that Jay was watching closely as you lowered and rose. Twenty-five regular squats. Twenty-five with a jump. By the end, your legs were on fire, and you were out of breath. Jay reached for a bottle and handed it to you. "Water and magnesium. You need it to recover." You took the bottle and drank a few sips, feeling the cool liquid slide down your throat. "Thanks." Jay watched you for a moment, then crossed his arms with a satisfied grin. "I’ll admit it, I didn’t think you’d make it." You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Thanks for the vote of confidence." Jay laughed, then added with a tone that was slightly too pleased: "But you know what this means, right?" You looked at him, confused. "What?" Jay stepped a bit closer. "I lost the bet." His lips curled into a mischievous smile. "So, in addition to reading me that romance book, we also have to watch a movie together." You stood there, speechless. "Wait… what?!" Jay shrugged. "You did the whole workout, so I have to keep my end of the bet. But you don’t think I’m getting away with just a book, do you?" He leaned slightly toward you, lowering his voice. "You’ll have to pick a romantic movie and force me to watch it." You bit your lip, trying to hold back a smile. Okay, maybe this workout hadn’t been torture after all.

Your phone vibrated for the umpteenth time while you were sitting at your desk, trying to focus on studying. The screen lit up with a new message. 📩 Jay: "So, book girl, Aron just pushed the heroine against the wall and whispered in her ear that he would never stop wanting her. Is this guy always like this or does he get even better?"

📩 Jay: "Because I have a feeling you gave me the book with the most tension and bickering in your entire collection?"

📩 Jay: "Anyway, update. I’m halfway through. When I win the bet, I demand the shortest movie possible."

You laughed to yourself, biting your lip as you read his messages. So he was reading it. You had to admit that it pleased you a little that Jay was so involved, even though he would never openly admit it. But you hadn’t seen him in over a week. The baseball team was busy with away games, and the most contact you had with him were those messages where he teased you or updated you on the hottest moments of the book. And then, that evening… The door to your room suddenly swung open, and Giselle stormed in like a hurricane. "Y/N, stop whatever you’re doing right now!" she announced excitedly, grabbing your hands and pulling you up. You looked at her confused. "What—?" "The basketball team and the baseball team won their games!" she said with a satisfied smile. "You know what that means, right?" You squinted your eyes, suspicious. "That we can go do karaoke and eat fried chicken to celebrate?" "No." Giselle stared at you seriously. "It means there’s a huge party at a fraternity, and we’re going." You blinked. "Wait, what?" Giselle ignored your protest and made a beeline for your wardrobe, rummaging through your clothes without an ounce of shame. After a few seconds, she pulled out your nightmare dress. A tight black cocktail dress with tiny sequins and a slight sweetheart neckline. Your worst enemy. "No, absolutely not." You quickly shook your head. "There’s no way I’m wearing that." "Y/N…" Giselle looked at you with her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow. "It’ll look amazing on you." You crossed your arms over your chest, stubborn. "That’s not the point." "So what’s the point, then?" You bit your lip, looking away. "…That Jay might be there." A sly smile spread across Giselle’s lips. "Ohhh, so that’s why you don’t want to wear it." "It has nothing to do with Jay," you lied shamelessly. Giselle sighed, then grabbed your wrists and started dragging you toward the bed. "No, listen, you’re going to the party, and you’re going to wear this dress. And if Jay is there, even better. It’s time to stop hiding under layers of baggy clothes." "Did you just insult my aesthetic?" you asked, feigning offense. "I’m saying you’re hot, and you need to start acting like it." Despite your protests, after two hours of getting ready and many threats from Giselle, you found yourself inside a crowded fraternity house, wearing the nightmare dress and holding a drink. And, of course, with your heart pounding at the thought of who you might run into inside.

The music echoed in the air, the bass vibrating through the walls of the fraternity house, and the smell of alcohol mixed with sweet perfumes filled the atmosphere. Giselle had dragged you all around the house, giving you a full tour as if she were a tour guide. "And this," she said, pointing to the kitchen transformed into an improvised bar, "is the source of every questionable decision of the night." She handed you a colorful drink that smelled of fruit and alcohol. "Drink, it’ll loosen you up." You looked at the glass with suspicion but took a sip anyway. Sweet, fresh, and deceptive. The kind that makes you forget there’s alcohol in it. A few minutes later, you found yourself outside in the gazebo, where a group of students was playing beer pong amid laughter and cheers. And then… you saw him. Jay. He was casually leaning against a table, a drink in hand, talking lazily with a girl. He almost seemed bored by the conversation, but that didn’t change the fact that he was damn good-looking. He was wearing a slightly unbuttoned black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his forearms and those damn veins you had gotten to know in the gym. And then his hair. A little messy, but in that perfect way that you knew was intentional. Maybe it was your gaze that lingered a little too long because at one point he looked up and caught your eye. And he choked on his drink. Oh. You immediately lowered your eyes, your heart racing, pretending you hadn’t noticed. Maybe it hadn’t been that obvious. "Y/N?" Keeho’s voice made you turn, lifting your gaze. He was one of the guys from your study group, and he was… objectively handsome. Dark, slightly wavy hair, perfect features, and a slightly prominent nose that made him even more attractive. But most of all, he smiled in a way that lit up his whole face. "I didn’t expect to see you here," he said, with a genuine laugh. You lowered your head slightly, already feeling a bit more shy. "Actually, neither did I. It’s all Giselle’s fault." Keeho laughed again. "Well, I’m glad you’re here. That dress looks good on you." You felt the warmth rise to your cheeks. "Oh… thank you."

As you were talking with Keeho, you didn’t notice that Jay had remained still in his corner, the glass still halfway to his mouth, his eyes fixed on the scene in front of him. And he didn’t like it one bit. Seeing you, his book girl, in that black dress that hugged your body… and especially seeing Keeho looking at you that way? No. He didn’t like it at all. So he pushed himself off the table with a barely noticeable sigh and walked toward you, sipping his drink with apparent calm. But inside? It burned. You were still talking to Keeho, who seemed extremely comfortable while making you laugh with some joke. And that smile on your lips, the one Jay usually made you wear when he teased you? Was it now for Keeho? No. That wasn’t right. Jay reached behind you, close enough for you to feel his presence without him touching you yet. "What a sight," he commented with his usual slightly amused voice, but with an undertone that didn’t escape you. "I didn’t know book girls also came to these parties." You stiffened slightly at the sound of his voice, turning toward him. Too close. Too intense. Too… Jay. Keeho raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and him. "See? Even Jay is surprised," he joked, but his tone held a slight challenge.

Jay smiled, but it wasn’t his usual smile. It was something more dangerous. "Oh, I am." His eyes lowered slightly, quickly scanning over you. "Especially since I didn’t expect to see you in… this dress." You felt your heart skip a beat. Keeho laughed, patting your shoulder. "I just told her, it looks amazing on her, right?" Jay gave a small smile, but his eyes stayed on you. "Oh, no doubt about that." The tension in the air became palpable. You were there, caught between Keeho's relaxed confidence and Jay’s burning gaze, which seemed amused, irritated, and intrigued all at once. And just when you were about to say something, Jay lowered his drink and leaned slightly toward you. "So, Y/N… shall we play beer pong? Or are you afraid of losing your first bet to me?" Your breath caught in your throat. Oh, damn. You took a deep breath, trying to ignore how your heart was racing. Yes, you weren’t great at beer pong. Yes, you’d probably lose. But the urge to challenge Jay was too strong. "Are you afraid of losing, Park?" you said with a smirk, crossing your arms. Jay started laughing, shaking his head. "Me? With you? Book girl, don’t make me laugh." Keeho stepped between you two, throwing you a concerned look. "Y/N, we all know you can’t handle much alcohol. Maybe I should play for you." You scoffed, making a face. "It’s just small sips, I won’t die." Even though, inside, you were slightly terrified by the idea. Jay shook his head with that usual challenging smile of his. "Fine, but what are we betting?" You pouted, staring at him intently. "If I win, you have to watch an entire romantic movie with me. One of my favorites." Jay raised an eyebrow, amused. "You want to force me to watch one of those movies where the protagonist has a sudden transformation and ends up becoming the perfect guy?" "Exactly," you said proudly. "Because even a frat boy has a heart of gold deep down." He laughed, shaking his head. "That’s never going to happen, but alright." Then he suddenly became more serious, and with one step, he moved closer to you. Too close. You could smell his scent – a light aftershave mixed with the warmth of his skin – and your heart leaped into your throat. "And if I win?" he asked in a low voice, his gaze locked on you. You swallowed nervously. "W-what do you want?" Jay tilted his head to the side, studying you closely. Then he let his gaze slide down to your lips, lingering for just a second before answering. "I want a kiss." Your breath stopped. He smiled softly, that cheeky grin that drove you crazy. "But not just any kiss," he continued, lowering his voice, and you felt your stomach flip. Had he lost his mind? "What?!" you whispered, eyes wide. Jay took a step back with a chuckle. "What’s wrong, book girl? Afraid to lose?" You clenched your fists, your face burning. Damn Park Jongseong. "Get ready to watch a whole night of rom-coms," you said in a fake confident tone, even though inside, you were a mess. Jay lifted his drink with a satisfied smirk. "We’ll see."

Jay looked at you with a satisfied smile as you took another sip of your drink. You had already missed five shots, and at this point, half of your drink was already gone. When you lifted the glass to drink again, Jay stopped you, gently grabbing your wrist. "Okay, that’s enough," he said, shaking his head. "I don’t want to have to carry you out of here rolling." You nodded slowly, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spread across your cheeks. Then you sighed, glancing at the untouched glasses still on the table. "I screwed this up…" you murmured, looking down. Jay stepped closer, lowering his face near yours. "Nah. You just lost badly." You raised your eyes, glaring at him, but he just smiled. "But the fun part," he continued, tilting his head, "is that with your little screw-up, I just won a free kiss." Your heart skipped a beat. You blinked, trying to process what he had just said. "Wait, what?" Jay smiled even more as if he was enjoying every second of your reaction. "You lost, right? And we made a bet. So…" He paused, letting the meaning of his words sink slowly into your head. You felt your face flush. "You’re impossible." He laughed softly. "And you’re drunk." You puffed out your cheeks. "I’m not drunk." Jay gave you a skeptical look. "Yeah. And I’m a book boy." You crossed your arms, trying to keep the little dignity you had left. He shook his head, amused, then put his hand in his jeans pocket. "Should I drive you home?" he asked, his tone softer this time. You hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Okay." Jay smiled, as if he had already predicted your answer, and gestured for you to follow him. The cool evening air made you shiver slightly as you walked beside Jay. He led you to the parking lot, and when you saw his car, you almost lost your balance. A Mercedes and not just any Mercedes. One of those that probably cost more than all the rent for your student room put together.

You whistled softly, impressed. "Okay… this is the moment I realize you’re really rich." Jay laughed as he opened the door for you. "Took you this long?" You shrugged, getting in with a bit of hesitation. When you sat down, you immediately felt the fabric of your dress ride up slightly on your thighs. Instinctively, you tried to pull it down to cover yourself more. Meanwhile, Jay got in on the driver’s side and started the car but noticed your movement. Then you heard yourself mumbling something under your breath. "I should never wear stuff like this…" Jay took his eyes off the road and glanced at you sideways, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. "What?" You quickly shook your head, immediately regretting speaking aloud. "Nothing, never mind." But Jay didn’t let it go. He turned off the engine for a second and completely turned toward you, his dark eyes fixed on yours. "Say it again," he said, his voice slightly lower. You felt a lump form in your throat. "It’s nothing." Jay clenched his jaw. "You said you shouldn’t wear things like this. Why?" You lowered your gaze, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "Because… they don’t look good on me." The silence that followed was heavy. Jay ran a hand through his hair, taking a second before responding. When he spoke again, his tone had changed. "Book girl," he said, and this time there was no malice in his voice. Just frustration. "Who the hell put this nonsense in your head?" He stared straight into your eyes, his voice lower and more intense. "That dress looks amazing on you. And anyone who ever made you think otherwise is an idiot." You swallowed, feeling your face burn. "Jay…" He tilted his head, studying you. Then he smiled slightly, but this time, there was more than just malice in his eyes. There was something else. "You should wear them more often, especially when I’m around!" You puffed out your cheeks, trying to ignore the warmth that had flooded your body. "Stop teasing me, Jay." He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned slightly toward you, getting closer and closer. You shifted against the seat, trying to create more distance between you, but he seemed determined to not let you escape.

His scent – a mix of musk, sandalwood, and something slightly sweet – enveloped you, making your head spin even more than the alcohol already had. "Can I touch you?" he asked suddenly, his voice lower, almost a whisper. You looked up at him, surprised. Jay tilted his head slightly. "At the gym, you told me you didn’t want to be touched. I don’t want to do it if you don’t want me to." Your heart pounded in your chest. You didn’t know how to respond. Or rather, you did, but admitting it out loud was a whole different story. You nodded slowly. Jay bit the inside of his cheek, as if trying to hold back a smile, then smoothly took off his leather jacket and placed it over your bare thighs. "Is this better?" You looked down at the jacket, then nodded again. "Yes…" Jay leaned in even more, this time with more confidence, and his hand slowly traveled up to your cheek. His fingers were warm, a pleasant contrast against your skin. You held your breath when his thumb slowly traced the outline of your face, sliding down until it reached the edge of your lips. He brushed them with his fingertip as if memorizing their shape. Then, with a whisper, almost to himself, he muttered: "Fuck, you’re beautiful." And pressed his lips to yours. The kiss wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t hesitant. It was hungry, and confident, like it was something he had wanted to do for a long time. Jay’s lips were incredibly soft, and they tasted of expensive liquor with a slightly smoky note. Yours, on the other hand, were sweet, infused with the fruity drink you had had at the party. It felt like you were sinking into the warmth of the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a confidence that made your head spin. You felt his breath mixing with yours, the tip of his nose brushing against yours as he tilted his head slightly to kiss you better. Instinctively, your hands rested on his chest, feeling the fabric of his shirt cling to the muscles underneath. It was warm, solid, so real that you almost had to hold your breath. Jay smiled against your lips as if your touch amused him. He pulled back for a second, looking at you with those dark eyes that seemed to study every reaction you had. You were blushing, and you knew it. You could feel the heat on your cheeks, the frantic beat of your heart. "It’s the alcohol," you whispered, almost to justify yourself. Jay didn’t answer. Instead, without a second thought, he placed a confident hand on your hip and, with a decisive movement, pulled you back against him.

This time, the kiss was different. Deeper, slower. His lips brushed against yours with overwhelming intensity, leaving you breathless as his tongue gently slid between your lips, exploring you with a languor that made your knees tremble. A sound escaped involuntarily from your throat—a nearly imperceptible moan, but enough for Jay to notice. He smiled against the kiss, his hand on your hip tightening slightly as his fingers traced small circles on the thin fabric of your dress. "You’re dangerous, book girl," he murmured against your lips, his voice hoarse and slightly amused. "You’re becoming a drug." Those words sent a shiver through you, a wave of heat traveling from your head to your toes. With a shy gesture, you let your arms slide around his neck, your fingers sinking into his dark hair. You ruffled it slightly, curious about how soft it was. "Oh my god, Jay," you whispered, more to yourself than to him. "Your hair is… so soft." Jay chuckled softly, not breaking away from you. "What, did you think I had straw on my head?" You buried your face against his shoulder, embarrassed. But he pulled his face away slightly, tilting his head to look at you. And in his gaze, there was something new. Something warm, something that made you want to kiss him again. You stared at his slightly swollen lips from the kisses you had shared, the small bites you had both given each other and while keeping your arms tight around his neck, you asked if you could kiss him again. Jay stared at you for a moment, then chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Do you have to ask?" he whispered, his voice slightly rough, still thick from the kiss you’d just shared. You bit your lip, lowering your gaze just a little. "I just wanted to be polite…" Jay smiled amusedly but didn’t say anything more because this time, you moved first. You lifted yourself slightly toward him and kissed him gently, savoring every shiver his lips sent through you. It was different, more intimate. You let go, taking control of the kiss for the first time. Jay seemed to enjoy it. His fingers continued to play with the fabric of your dress, barely grazing it, as he slowly increased the intensity of the kiss. When he pulled back, he had a smirk on his lips. "So, book girl? You, who’s an expert on literary kisses… what’s my grade?" You laughed softly, your cheeks still warm. "I’d say a solid 8.5." Jay raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "8.5? Are you serious?" He brought his face closer to yours, his pout hovering just a breath away from your lips. "What should I do to get to a 10?" You bit the inside of your cheek, hesitating. You didn’t want to answer, but his gaze was pushing you to. He tilted his head, eyeing you mischievously. "Oh, wait… you’re thinking of something spicy, right?" You immediately shook your head, but the flush creeping up your face betrayed you. Jay laughed, getting even closer. "Come on, tell me. What were you thinking?" You turned your gaze away for a moment, then, in a whisper, you muttered, "Well… I’d need to feel your lips on other parts of my body to see if I can bump your grade…" For a moment, Jay stayed silent. Then he burst into a soft laugh, his chest vibrating against yours. "Wow," he whispered, shaking his head with an incredulous smile. "This isn’t the shy girl I know." You covered your face with your hands, embarrassed. "I didn’t mean to say—" "Shhh," he interrupted a satisfied smile on his face. "I’ll drive you home before you can say anything else that I’ll tease you about tomorrow." You sighed, already knowing he would never let you forget it.

In the days following the kiss, Jay didn’t miss an opportunity to find you in the hallways. Every time he saw you, he’d come up with an excuse to get close—some stupid comment about the book you’d given him, a teasing grin, a hand slipping across your back as he passed by. But his favorite thing? Dragging you into some hidden corner to kiss you without letting you escape. Like that one time in the library, when you were bent over searching for a book on a high shelf and suddenly felt a warm breath behind you. "You should be careful, book girl," Jay murmured, his usual low and amused voice. "You could end up in dangerous situations." Before you could turn around, his hands settled on your hips, gently pulling you back against his chest. He trapped you between the shelf and his body, his lips brushing the side of your neck. "J-Jay…" you tried to protest, but your breath was already shaky. "Mmh?" he responded, feigning innocence as he left small kisses on your skin, slowly moving down. You quickly turned to stop him, but it was a mistake—because as soon as you looked into his eyes, Jay took advantage of your hesitation, grabbed your chin, and kissed you deeply and possessively. "God, you’re a drug," he murmured against your lips before kissing you again, his hands tightening around your waist with more determination. And it wasn’t the only time. In the following days, every hidden corner of the university became your secret refuge. But then, that afternoon, you hadn’t seen him around. It was the sound of your phone that pulled you out of your thoughts. Jay’s name lit up the screen, and the message made your eyes widen: "I finished the book. Looks like you’ll have to spend some time with me at the gym :)" It couldn’t be real. But before you could reply, another message appeared. "Come to my place. Bring a shirt and leggings." Below, is the address of a building you recognized well: a luxury complex in the city center.

An hour later, you were standing in front of what seemed like a private gym on the ground floor of the building. The place oozed exclusivity, and you couldn’t believe Jay lived there. When you greeted him, the first thing you asked was, "Seriously, do you live here?" He shrugged with a cheeky grin. "Being the son of a CEO has its perks." Then, without giving you a chance to respond, he grabbed your wrist and pushed you inside. Jay set himself up at the weight equipment with his usual ease, as if it was his natural habitat. The black tank top clung perfectly to his body, highlighting the muscles in his arms that flexed every time he lifted the barbell. God, Y/n, stop staring. But it wasn’t your fault that every movement of his seemed designed to distract you. "Can you explain to me why I’m here, exactly?" you asked, crossing your arms, trying to maintain some control over the situation. Jay gave a small smile as he continued lifting the weights. "Because I finished the book. And I want to prove to you that I read it. Feel free to ask questions." Frowning, you tried to think of something difficult. "Okay, then… In ‘The Spanish Love Deception,’ why does Aaron offer to take Catalina to the wedding in Spain?" Jay lowered the barbell effortlessly and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "Because he’s been in love with her for years and he’s tired of seeing her think she doesn’t deserve someone who looks at her the way he does." Your lips curled into a pout. Damn. He chuckled and moved to the squat area, positioning the barbell on his shoulders. Your eyes inevitably fell on his hips, on how the muscles in his legs flexed every time he squatted down and rose. It was ridiculous how attractive he was even while working out. You decided to try again. "Okay, then… describe the scene where Aaron and Catalina kiss for the first time." Jay paused mid-squat and threw you an amused glance. "Do you want me to tell you or would you prefer I show you?" You felt the heat rise in your cheeks and quickly looked away, pretending you hadn’t heard. After finishing his squats, Jay moved to the leg machine—the same one he’d had you use that one time at the gym. Without a care, he set the weight to 80 kilos and got comfortable, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "So, book girl? Got one last question?" You sighed and tried something even more specific. "What does Aaron say to Catalina when they confess their love?" Jay, without even thinking, answered in a lower tone, almost seriously: "‘I’ve loved you for so long that I don’t know what it’s like not to love you.’" At that moment, you realized: you had lost the bet. You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest, and Jay burst out laughing. "What’s with that face? Don’t like losing?" You shot him a glare. "I hate losing." "Good, because I love winning." He shrugged, amused. "I’ve loved it since I was little." You rolled your eyes. "So now I have to train with you every day?"

Jay laughed and then, with his usual cocky air, sat down on the leg machine bench, lightly patting his thighs. "Sit on me." You looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. "What?" "You heard me, book girl. Straddle me." You shook your head, your cheeks already burning. "I can’t." Jay raised an eyebrow, that mischievous grin you knew all too well spreading across his face. "And why not?" "Because… because we’re in public!" He burst out laughing again. "Sweetheart, I’ve booked the gym for an hour and a half. It’s just us here." You quickly glanced around and realized he was right. The gym was empty. You hesitated for a moment, then, with your heart pounding, you slowly positioned yourself on his legs, trying to keep some distance between you. Jay watched you with an amused little grin and then shook his head. "No, no, this isn’t gonna work. You need to move higher, or I can’t do the exercise." You swallowed hard, a little scared, and shifted higher, until you felt something hard and warm press against your center. A small moan escaped your lips, too unexpected to hold back, and Jay noticed it immediately. A flash of amusement and desire flickered in his eyes as he lowered his voice. "Oh? Already got you like this?" You bit your lip, trying to avoid his gaze, but he wouldn’t let you. He leaned in slightly, his hands resting on your hips with a firm grip. "I knew you had a hidden side, book girl." As Jay started pushing the weights with you straddling him, you could feel his muscles tightening under your legs. His hands held your waist naturally, as though you were meant to be there, while his breathing deepened with the effort. You watched him closely, paying attention to every line, every movement. A thin layer of sweat made his skin shine, and without thinking too much, you placed your hands on his taut abs. You felt them under your fingers—sculpted, warm, alive. Jay lowered his gaze to you with a sly smile. "What’s this, you doing a technical assessment now?"

You blushed immediately, trying to retract your hands. "I… just curious." "Curious, huh?" he said in a teasing tone, digging his fingers into your sides to make you jump a little. After a few more reps, he finally set his legs down and sat up with a still-burning look. "So… what do I have to do for that perfect ten in the kiss?" You looked at him confused. "What?" Jay stood up, catching his breath as he slowly made you slide off his legs, still holding you by the waist. "I’ll take a quick shower, then we’ll eat something and watch your movie… and you’ll see, that grade will go up, sweetheart." "Sweetheart?" you repeated, blushing as if you’d just heard a swear word. "Mh-hm, you like it, admit it," he said, winking at you as he grabbed his towel and disappeared into the bathroom. After about ten minutes, you were sitting on his couch in leggings and an oversized sweatshirt—his, by the way—while you tried to find your favorite movie to put on. His apartment was neat but lived-in, cozy with a few luxurious touches that left no doubt Jay was truly "the CEO’s son." When he returned, his hair still wet and wearing a fresh t-shirt, he brought two plates with him. "I did everything, sweetheart. Tonight, I’m spoiling you." He set the plate in front of you and dropped down beside you, making you sink a little into the couch as you nodded shyly. "Thank you…" As you ate, the conversation flowed easily. You, with your usual shyness, he, never miss a chance to tease you. "So, after this movie, can I say I’ve conquered all of your book girl heart, yes or no?" "It depends on how you behave." He chuckled softly, leaning in slightly. "Interesting threat." Then he handed you a small treat, cutting it in half with a spoon. "Half for you." You nodded with a smile, taking the spoon and eating your half while finally starting the movie. "Oh, so this is the infamous movie of your heart… let’s see if it’s worthy of my ten." And as the screen lit up, Jay already wrapped an arm around your shoulders, whispering, "Get ready, sweetheart. Tonight, I’m getting that ten."

His lips crashed against yours with a restrained hunger, almost frantic. The taste of the sweet you had shared just moments before mixed with the heat of the kiss, making it even more indecent, even more overwhelming. You moaned softly against his mouth, your hands sinking into his soft strands as you pulled him closer, nearer, as if just a centimeter of air between you could make everything fall apart. Jay chuckled against your lips, his hand exploring under the hoodie you were wearing—his hoodie. "You like wearing my stuff, huh?" he whispered in a low, teasing tone, his fingers brushing the warm skin of your hips. "Maybe because it makes you feel like you're mine." You blushed immediately, but a smile crept onto your lips. "Shut up…" you laughed weakly, without any real conviction. But Jay wasn’t waiting for an invitation: his mouth pulled away from yours and dropped to your neck, leaving slow kisses that became more intense, until he sucked on your skin decisively. "J-Jay…" you stammered, your words trembling between sighs. "I-I have class tomorrow…" "Perfect," he murmured against your skin, "that way you can think of me every time you feel one of these marks burning." He pulled you even closer, as if he wanted to carve himself into you, to claim you silently and viscerally. Then his voice changed, lower, warmer, authoritative but never harsh. "See how quickly you lose yourself for me, sweetheart?" he whispered in your ear. "Don't be shy now. You want it just as much as I do." Then he slowly pulled back, leaving you still gasping, and with that same arrogant, irresistible half-smile, he locked eyes with you. "Alright, book girl… how much are you giving me now?" You stared at him, trying to steady your breath. "N-nine." Jay raised an eyebrow. "Nine?" You nodded, biting your lip. Jay sighed dramatically and leaned back. "What do I have to do for that damn ten?"

He took you to his room without saying anything, but the silence was charged — as if every unspoken second was a shudder tucked under his skin. Once inside, he let you slide slowly onto the bed, the look never detaching from yours. He was above you in a moment, his hands planted on the sides of your head, his body barely touching yours. He kissed you with a slow bastard, as if he were savoring every second... and then he said to you, hoarse and low voice:

"You know you're driving me crazy, right? do you read those books full of dirty scenes and then be shy? Honey, either you stop it, or I'll teach you how to write a scene worthy of that book." Your breath froze for a second, but you didn't look down. He noticed it — and smiled, slow and cruel in the sweetest way. He stroked your hip over the sweatshirt, with a finger, and then added: "Take it off. I want to see everything. And don't try to hide, or I swear I'll rip it off." You looked at him with a timid challenge in the eyes, and obeyed. As the sweatshirt slipped away, his gaze devoured you alive. It lingered on your bra, on your already hard nipples under the fabric. He said nothing for a few seconds. He just looked at you. Then he licked his lower lip, and muttered:

"Fuck. Look at these buds ... so sensitive just for me?" he leaned his face to your chest and began to suck slowly over your bra, but with that deliberate slowness that drove you crazy. Every now and then he looked up to watch your reaction, his eyes full of desire but also of control. You pulled him by the hair, with a choked groan, and whispered: "I want your tongue on my skin..." He laughed, that low, almost cruel laugh. "I knew that under that good girl facade lurked a little perversion. You get excited to read those scenes in the books and then you come to me all red in the face. But now... you're the protagonist, And I'm not here to spare you."

His hands slowly went down your back and unfastened your bra with a disarming naturalness. When he saw your breasts, he barely opened his eyes and then stared at you as if he had found something sacred and forbidden at the same time. "You're gorgeous. And never again dare to doubt how desirable you are. Look what you're doing to me." The tone was fierce and hungry, but full of adoration. He lowered himself again, his mouth a puff from your skin, and whispered: "Do I kiss them so slowly or do you want me to bite them? Tell me, princess of novels... how much do you want me to dirty for you?" Your whisper was lost between the heated breaths. "Kiss me... but I also want you to suck them.» He paused for a second. He looked at you with a raised eyebrow and a grin on his lips. "Ah, so now you give orders? The bookgirl gets bold..." He shook his head slowly, as one of his hands lay firmly on your side, holding you steady, possessive and present.

"Honey, you have no idea what you're asking for." He leaned in slowly, his dark eyes pointed straight into yours, and then let his lips close on your hard bud, sucking it with a slowness that almost made you moan his name. You felt him warm, precise, damn confident. With his other hand, he caressed your other breast, first sweet, then more firm, squeezing it as if he wanted to learn it by heart. And you... stutter. «Jay... oh-fuck ... you're ... you're too ... you drive me crazy, I swear..." Your voice was trembling, a mixture of desire and surprise, as your body reacted to his every touch. He laughed, his mouth still on you, then came off just enough to talk, his voice low, scratched with desire. "I'd suck them for hours, you know? You have fucking masterpiece breasts. Full, soft ... they seem to fit in my mouth. And the way you groan when I touch them? That's all I could come for." You looked at him with eyes shining with excitement and pulled a lock of his hair slightly, still unkempt by his heat. "Oh My God ... who reads Spicy romance now? You're dirtier than all my books put together."

He laughed quietly, with that hoarse voice sticking under your skin. Then he stopped, his breath still labored, and he ran his tongue over his lower lip. His hair was a mess, scattered over his eyes, and the way he looked at you was almost animalistic. "Can I get off? I want to kiss you ... really.» You bit your lip, a little scared, a little excited as hell. "Yes..." you whispered. He immediately praised you, with that disarming sweetness that contrasted with the darkness in his gestures. "Good girl... that's how you do it."

But you... inside you felt something squeeze. The panic, that annoying little voice that reminded you that you were not "perfect". That you didn't have that flat stomach, that your body was normal, real, with curves that you sometimes hated looking at yourself in the mirror. You tried to smile, pretend everything was fine, but he knew you too well. He stopped. He really looked at you. "sweetness..." he said quietly,and his voice changed slightly. "What is it? Why are you shaking?" You lowered your eyes.

"It's nothing... just that... I'm not-like those girls you see on Instagram. I'm not sculpted, I don't have a flat stomach and—" he came up, his hand warm on your face. "So what? You know what I see?" He looked at you with a sudden seriousness. "A body that drives me crazy. A woman who knows how to make me lose control. And if you think even for a second that it's not enough, then I'll have to prove you wrong... with my tongue, with my hands, with everything I have.» He bent down again, this time with less irony and more intensity. "And don't pretend to me. I don't want the safe version of you. I want you. All. Your insecurities too. Especially those.»

you smiled. It was that shy but bright smile that made him lose every shred of control. He looked at you as if he had won a battle, and then he bent over you again, lips that began to descend slow, stubborn, kissing your neck, then your chest, your belly... every kiss was a silent statement, slow torture. he slowly sucked your skin to the navel, leaving small marks where his mouth had stopped too long. When he got to the edge of the leggings, he stopped and looked up at you with an expression that made you burn inside.

"May I? "he whispered, but his tone was more of a challenge than a question. You nodded, and without missing a second, he slowly pulled your pants off. When he saw your white panties with the pink rose in the center, he made a low and amused whistle. "But look at that. So innocent outside, so dirty inside. You like playing good girl, huh? With your cute panties and those books full of scenes that make you blush..." He teased you in a low, hoarse voice, as he approached again, leaving kisses on your tight, sensitive skin. "Open your legs for me, honey.»

You did. Your heart pounded into your chest as you watched it move between your thighs. He settled down naturally, his arms firm around your hips, as if he was getting comfortable in his favorite scene. And then it began. His lips, his tongue, his hands ... every part of him seemed to adore you. He would kiss and suck on your inner thighs, slow, methodical, as if he wanted to drive you crazy before you even got where you wanted. Every time you moaned about the contact of his mouth, he looked down at you with those dark, fiery eyes, and spoke.

"Do you like it when I kiss you like that? That wasn't in the book you were reading yesterday, was it? Or maybe yes... the scene on page 267... the one where he only makes her scream with his tongue?» He would bite you slowly, leave marks, and then blow on it to make you shiver. "I bet you touched yourself reading that scene. Now I'm in his place. Now I'm writing your story.» And then... he ran a slow finger over your clitoris, still covered by the thin tissue, and your breath broke into a gasp. Your body just arched and he noticed it right away. He stopped, but did not turn away. He looked at you with a new hunger in his eyes, but also a rare sweetness. "sweetie..." he said quietly, and made you tremble just because of the way he said your name. "May I? Can I kiss you there? Touch every part of you? Worship you as you deserve?» His voice was calmer, but still imbued with desire. No rush, just that uncontrollable urge to make you feel wanted. Not just wanted, loved through every kiss.

"Yes..." you whispered, your voice mixed with desire and tension. He wasted no time. His fingers grabbed the elastic of your white panties, slowly sliding them down your thighs. When he saw the noticeable moisture on the fabric, his smile widened into a satisfied, almost cruel grin. He lifted them up, looked at them, and then gave you a look that made you flare up.

"So wet it left its mark... and I haven't done anything yet. Are you already breaking up for me, little bookgirl?» You tried to close your legs, instinctively, but he opened them to you again with a firmness that admitted no argument. His hands rested on your thighs, holding you wide open for him. "No no ... no shyness now. You wanted it, remember? You asked me to kiss you, to touch you. And look at that show..."

He lowered slightly, his eyes peering at your intimacy with brazen adoration and malice. "Pulsating, shiny... it looks like he's crying for me.» Your breathing became irregular. Red-hot cheeks. "Has anyone ever touched you here?"he asked in a hoarse voice, without taking his eyes off. You shook your head slowly, almost trembling. "N-no ... never.» he bit his lip, evidently impressed by the answer. "Christ..." he hissed. "And all those perfect boyfriends you read in your novels? What do they do to their girls, huh?»

You blushed even more, but answered in a low voice, almost stuttering: "C-there's this scene... he kisses her inner thighs ... and then ... then he holds them still and... passes her tongue ... there. And watch her do it.» he growled quietly, a sound of pure hunger. "Little literary pig ... and then pretend you don't know what you want.» He came up again, his hands always on your thighs, his gaze ravenous. And before you could say anything, he ducked and sank, tongue hot, firm, hungry. No warning. No hesitation. He made you gasp, quietly scream his name, while his face was hidden between your thighs and his breath burned on your skin.

His arms held you still, clasped you tightly against his mouth, while his tongue explored each point with slow and then rapid, deep and ravenous movements. Every time you moaned, he responded with a low, satisfied sound, as if your every tremor was a reward. "You are as sweet as in your books, but much truer," he muttered to you. "And I ... I haven't started yet.»

His tongue was fire and patience. he licked, sucked, teased your clit with precise, hungry movements, which made you squeeze the sheets under you. He was kneeling between your thighs, his face sunk into your skin, as if savoring the scene he had been waiting for too long. "You're shaking," he muttered to you, his voice kneaded with longing. "I'm going to add a finger. Let me hear how much you want me to hear.» When you feel his finger slide in, slowly, he broke your breath. You arched your back, letting out a broken groan.

"Jay ... fuck ... it's... too much, but-well ... oh my God..." He smiled at you. That bastard smile that knows exactly the effect it has on your body. "So responsive ... and I thought you were just a good girl with love books.» As his finger moved inside you, slow but deep, his words struck you more than touch. "You read all that spicy stuff and you've never experienced anything like it, huh? Remember that scene where he fingers her while licking her clit? Well—» And he moved again, his lips back to where he made you lose your breath. You grabbed Him by the hair, almost to anchor yourself to reality as he upped the pace. And he laughed softly at you.

"You're taking my finger so well, Baby, made just for me. Only I can see you so lost. Only I make you shake like that.» He adds a second finger, and the feeling almost made you cry from pleasure. "I ... I'm-I'm going to come..." you moaned, no longer any filter. He looked up, eyes dark and disheveled, lips moist, the face marked by your desire. "So soon?" he teased you in a hoarse voice. "Then come. But do it around my tongue.» And when he came back to you, it was the end. Your body melted under his hands, his words, his mouth. And as you let go, he whispered against your skin: "Good girl ... so sensitive. So mine.»

You were still trying to regulate your breath, your skin moist with heat, your legs mushy. And just then, he took off his shirt. You turned to the side, pretending to look at the ceiling. You could not immediately face the sight of his chest, the sculpted abs that had just made you from prison as you came trembling under him. "Seriously?"he said in that tone that made you shudder. "I just made you come like in one of the scenes in your books... and now you are ashamed to look at me?» You stammered something, embarrassed, clutching the sheets. "N-it's not that I'm ashamed... it's that you're... a little too much to watch everything together, that's it.» He laughed, low and rough, and leaned toward you.

"Touch, then. If you can't look, use your hands.» He took your wrist and steered it slowly over his bare chest. Your fingers flashed on the hard, hot, live abs under the skin. You counted them one by one, in silence, until you rose to your chest, then to your shoulders, then you approached… And without much thought, you began to kiss him. Your neck, easy. Then that spot under his ear that you knew was his weakness. "Mh..." he groaned quietly, squinting. "You already knew where to kiss me, huh? The little bookgirl who learns fast..."

He kissed your temple slowly, but as you continued to explore it with your lips, he came up and began to rub softly against you. Its member, hard and hot, rubbed against your still naked and sensitive intimacy, and you both moaned in unison, a muffled, but powerful sound. You smiled against his skin and gently teased him, he shook his head with a half smile and stared at you, eyes bright and black. "Do you want it?» You looked at him without hesitation.

«You. I want you." he pulled off his pants calmly, never taking his eyes off yours, and when he was left alone with the boer His body, sculpted and taut, was a symphony of control and restrained desire. You looked at him, with a mixture of amazement and desire, without being able to look away. "You're staring," he said with a crooked, mischievous grin, as he reached out to the nightstand to pick up a condom. "Are you sure, sweetie?» You nodded with a small trembling breath, but you looked him in the eye. «You. With you, yes.» His gaze barely changed: from arrogant to incredibly sweet, as if that “yes” had been something he had always been waiting for. "Then ... give me space.» When you took off the boer He laughed softly, that low sound that sent you into a tailspin.

"What is it, princess? Did you expect anything less?" he gently teased you, as she adjusted the condom naturally. You gave him a playful look. «Only... wow. Some books had not warned about this.» You looked at his cock which was long and slightly venous with a slimy pearly white and he stretched out slightly and took a persevative from the nightstand and tore it carefully and you looked a little curious but also embarrassed as he slipped his cock around the condom very well and he giggled, then took a pillow and gently placed it under your hips, his muscles still tense for control. He gently stroked your side, looking a little more serious now. "If you feel something wrong, shake my hand. I'll stop whenever you want, ok» You felt nervous, but confident. "Don't worry. I trust you.» He kissed your forehead, tenderly, and when he began to push slowly inside you, every gesture was a mixture of slowness and respect. His breathing became more irregular, and you held your breath, feeling every inch of him, every accelerated beat. "sweetie..." he whispered against your skin, in a voice so warm that it made you shiver. "You're perfect. Made for me.»

And you, under him, between trembles and breathless breaths, you really felt seen. Want. At the center of his world. When the contact between you finally became complete, the world seemed to hold its breath. A slight discomfort made its way inside you, and instinctively you clasped your legs, looking for stability. she immediately froze, her jaw clenched, but the tone of her voice was incredibly soft. "It's okay... I'll stay put until you're ready. Take your time.» You nod, heart pounding. You stammered hard: "I ... I feel weird. But also full. And alive.» He kissed you softly, his lips on yours like a caress, while with his free hand he stroked your side to calm you down. He whispered small provocations in a low voice, of those that he knew how to send you into a tailspin, until, with a trembling sigh, you told him:

"You can ... you can move.» His first movement was slow, studied, almost reverent. The second, deeper. You both groaned, as if your voices were looking for each other at the same time. Every time he moved, you felt your body adapt to him, as if you were pieces of the same story. "You're taking it so well," he whispered in that low, cheeky, intimate tone. "As if you were made for me.» You gasped, fingers in his hair, and you could no longer hold back. The words came out confused, broken by pleasure: "I ... too much... but also not enough. I want you everything. Don't stop.» He smiled, almost fierce in his rough sweetness. "So lost to me, huh? Just like in your novels. But this time ... it's real.» The rhythm changed. He became more decisive, but always with that care that made you feel safe. Every moan you snatched from him, every caress, every look was a crescendo. It was desire, but also something deeper.

The sheets were now crumpled under you, and the air in the room smelled of warm skin, desire, breath. he was above you, his forehead streaked with sweat, his dark and burning gaze planted on your face. His voice was hoarse, as if he was holding back something too powerful. "God, sweetie..." he muttered, sinking once more into you, more slowly, more deeply. "I'm going crazy. Every time I catch you, you're tighter, wetter. It's like I want to swallow everything.»

He clasped your side with one strong hand, while the other stroked your cheek with a delicacy that contrasted with the gentle brutality of his thrusts. You trembled under him, legs trying to squeeze to contain all that pleasure that made itself feel stronger and more urgent. "I ..." you stammered, your voice broken. "S-I'm going to come again... I can't—" He silenced you with a deep kiss, his breath mixed with yours, then broke away and whispered against your lips: "I know, baby. I can feel it. The way you huddle around me, you're ready to explode. Foul. Show me how well you come for me.» Then, as if that were not enough, his fingers returned to look for your clitoris, teasing it with precise movements. You moaned loudly, almost screaming, and you clung to his arms, to his shoulders, wherever I could find a foothold. "S - I'm going crazy..." you stammered, tears in your eyes at the intensity of the moment. "...it's too much, it's too good—"

"Shhh," he whispered with a crooked, mischievous smile. "Don't say it. I know how much you like it. I know you're mine. No one's ever made you feel that way, has they?» You shook your head, unable to speak, and he looked at you with that look hungry and full of pride. «Exact. Just me. And I want you to come. Hour. Around me.» And you did. Your body bent like a wave beneath him, your back arched, your mouth open in a choked cry, as your skin burned and your sight blurred for a moment. He could still hear your response to his touch, to his voice, and his breathing became heavier. "Fuck ..." he growled. "Look what you do to me. I can't even resist. I want you too much.»

He continued to move within you, a little more labored now, and when you tried to close your legs, sensitive, still shaken, he took you forcefully and opened them to you again, pushing you slowly but firmly. "No, not now. Your fucking pussy is still calling me..." "I... it's too much, I can't do it..." you begged with a thread of voice. He lowered himself on your neck, leaving you a slow, almost reverent kiss. "Yes you can. You're perfect. So surrendering. So mine.» One last push, deeper. Then another. Then you felt him tremble over you, his breath broken. "I'm... I'm fucking coming ..." he gasped against your skin, clutching you as he let go, sinking all the way before stopping, completely shaken. There he stood, inside you, his face tucked between your shoulder and the pillow. Then, gently, he lifted his face and kissed your forehead. "Don't look at me like that..." you muttered shyly, looking back. "So how?"he laughed softly, stroking your side. "Like you are the most beautiful thing I've ever touched? Because you are.» You blushed again, and he took your chin between your fingers. "And now that I've seen you like that, lost under me..." he paused, his mischievous smile returning. "There's no escape, honey. I still want you. And you ... you belong to me.»

Jay slowly got up, his skin still slightly damp, his hair tousled like after a storm, his gaze lowered onto your naked form beneath the sheets. He bent over the edge of the bed with that familiar arrogance in his movements, but something had shifted in his eyes: a kind of tenderness hidden behind his crooked smile. "Don't move," he said in a hoarse voice, almost an order, but with the care of someone who had just read your soul.

Moments later, he returned with a small warm towel. He knelt beside you and began gently dabbing at your skin, as if you were fragile, as if everything that had just happened between the two of you wasn’t an explosion of desire, but a confession. "Your face is still red, baby..." he murmured, passing the steaming cloth between your thighs with disarming gentleness. "What’s the matter, can’t look at me after I made you scream my name?"

You lowered your gaze, embarrassed, absentmindedly stroking his rebellious hair. Your silence was sweet, a little dazed, a little lost. Jay smiled. He passed you his hoodie—huge on you—and lay down beside you. He pulled you close, as if his chest were home. His breath was slow, but his fingers never stopped caressing your back. "Trying to hide in my hoodie?" he said, lowering himself to your face. "Are you avoiding me? Don’t tell me you're embarrassed... after I’ve seen you so lost beneath me."

You lowered your gaze again. "It’s not that... it’s just..." you fiddled with the sleeve’s edge, "I’m not used to... all of this."

He chuckled softly. "What? Post-apocalypse cuddles? Or the fact that I made you come so hard you screamed my name more than you've ever screamed reading a spicy book?"

"Jay!" you whispered, hiding your face against his chest. "What?" he asked innocently. "You have no idea how many times I thought about teasing you after seeing you with those books? And now... here we are. You’re touching my hair like I’m your favorite comfort character."

You pushed him lightly. "You are."

He froze. Then he took your chin between two fingers. "Repeat it." "I said you are—" "No, no, no. Don’t cut me off. Tell me properly. Out loud." His gaze became intense. "...You’re my favorite comfort character."

Jay gave an arrogant smirk. "Damn. This is worse than a 'I love you' in bookgirl code."

"And you’re worse than all the book boyfriends put together," you muttered, but with a smile on your lips. "Yeah?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Better than Aaron?" "Don’t compare yourself to Aaron!" you protested. "Too late, sweetness." He gently pushed you into the pillow and pinched your side. "I already won, and I think I got a nice 10 too. I’m more real, and I make you laugh and moan."

You blushed so hard he laughed heartily, then kissed your forehead.

After a few seconds of silence, you sighed. "Jay… so… us?" He paused. "Us, what?" "What happens now?"

He took a moment, then brought a hand to his chest in a fake dramatic declaration. "Are you telling me that having you all curled up under my hoodie, in my bed, with trembling legs, isn’t enough? You want words too?" You looked up. "I’m being serious."

His gaze softened, becoming calmer, more sincere. "And me?" He moved closer, brushing your chin with his nose. "I like you, Y/n. Like… in a way I hate, because it makes me soft. But also in a way I love, because it makes me yours."

You smiled softly. "So you’re mine?" He laughed. "Only if you’re mine." "I am."

Jay paused, then gently rolled you onto him and hugged you as if he had found home. "Then there’s nothing more to say. Now sleep, little bookgirl. Tomorrow, I’ll bring you breakfast in bed and steal another spicy novel so I can figure out what you want me to do next."

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©cutehoons02 all rights reserved 2025.

[kyri45]

A final letter

Hello Everyone!

The queue is paused and everything is scheduled, which means we are ready for the finale!

I know that, in the end, this was just a silly side project for me, with everything else going on in my life. But for this occasion, I wanted to drop some words here and hope they make sense.

I started watching LMK only because a friend told me there was a "Sonadow-coded" ship. I ended up consuming the entire thing in one sitting on July 10th, 2024. At the time, I was still recovering from a bike accident that had left me with a broken right forearm—unable to draw for a little over a month. (I did try drawing with my left finger, but it wasn't exactly fun.)

Not only that, but it was summer, and I couldn’t enjoy the season or practice my main sport, windsurfing. To say I was feeling the blues is an understatement. I remember being in physical pain just from not being able to draw my sillies. But then, watching LMK did something to my brain chemistry that my little undiagnosed autistic self had never experienced before. It hit so hard that I’ve been physically unable to rewatch the show SINCE that very first day. (And y’all still call me the CEO of this fandom. Bro, I just work here.)

A lot of you have asked what inspired me to start this comic or to draw LMK fan art in the first place. While my usual answer is, "I saw Shadowpeach and thought MK could be their lovechild, given his appearance," the moment that actually started it all was THIS ONE—

(I HAD TO REWATCH THIS SCENE TO MAKE THE GIF AND IT HURT ME ON A MOLECOLAR LEVEL)

I have… a thing for characters who discover their entire identity was something else all along. It consumes my thoughts, my dreams, my every waking moment. I live for identity crises, for characters who thought they knew who they were, only to be forced to rediscover themselves, their existence, and their place in the world. If you give me a story where a character has to go through that, I will like it—regardless of how bad the rest of the story is.

Pair that with loads of trauma, daddy issues, the pressure of a legacy, and world-ending stakes, and congrats! Now I’m obsessed, and I will not stop thinking about it for the rest of my days!

At first, my brain just wanted to release some of that energy with a small, four-panel post about the monkeys discovering that MK was technically their kid.

That was supposed to be it.

But since I never seem to learn my lesson, it didn’t stay like that. Because once I started drawing, I just... continued.

And

I

never

stopped.

A lot of you have also asked how I found the motivation to draw so much, to never take a break. Well, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it one last time: I am my number one fan. No matter how much you laughed, cried, screamed, or went feral over this story, I did all of that and more. Because I got to think about the chapters months before they released. I got to daydream about them. I got to watch them come to life—first through sketches, then line art, then dialogue. And finally, I got to witness your reactions and see the incredible creations you made, inspired by my story.

So yeah, in a way, it was almost an addiction. A good addiction. Because, for the first time in my life, I actually understood what loving art means.

I’ve been drawing for ten years, working professionally for five, but I never loved art before. I just liked it because I happened to be good at it. But creating this comic made me understand why artists say, "Oh, I’ve loved drawing since I was a child!" This was the first time I allowed myself to create purely for my own enjoyment. Something I hadn’t had the privilege to do for a long time.

Other than making me feel even more single than I already was, this story somehow also helped me a little with my own family relationships. So yeah. Crazy how the gay monkeys changed my life.

Of course, I never could have predicted how much traction my AU would gain. Man, y’all were really starving to latch onto something this silly. /j

But yeah—thank you. Thank you for sticking around until the end, for having the patience and trust to follow the story even when I made you rage with angst and cliffhangers. (The statement in my bio still stands: I am not responsible for any physical or emotional damage my art has caused.)

I’m absolutely shit at thanking people, or at writing, or at talking in general, honestly. I’m the furthest thing from being good with words, so I hope the final chapter will be enough to show you my gratitude.

Through this story, I met so many wonderful, talented people. I watched as fans across different platforms found each other through memes and fanart of the AU. I saw artists start their own AUs inspired by mine, growing their own communities. I witnessed an explosion of creativity and collaboration through our takeovers. And I laughed along with you all.

And yeah—at its core, this story has always been about love. Whether it’s platonic, sibling, parental, romantic, or whatever the hell Mac and Wukong had going on for millennia.

At its heart, it’s a story about family.

And maybe, in the end… the real family wasn’t just the one in the comic, but the one we’ve found together along the way. 💛

See you all at the finale.

Love you all, freaks /affectionate

Jade

[zolo-san]

I know I just rambled in the tag, but if you took the time to read all that, might I direct you to this post & my ramblings there as well~

Something about Zoro being one of the most misunderstood and mischaracterized characters in One Piece is funny (not haha funny, funny sad) to me because?? That’s literally how his introduction starts?? With people misunderstanding him and thinking he’s some big, monstrous demon who kills with cause and cannot be trusted or tamed.

Meanwhile the actual Zoro is a driven guy who is often both literally and figuratively directionless in life and found his goals in life through good people (first Kuina and then Luffy). He's tied up in the Marine base not due to those actual crimes he commuted (well not inherently anyway) but because he ‘disrespected’ a Captain's son and stood up for a little girl. He accepts the challenge they present to him and because Zoro himself is a guy that puts his money where his mouth is he assumes the Marines will uphold their end of the deal and let him go (note the actual shock when Koby tells him the truth)

He joins Luffy's crew but also outright says he’s not gonna let his goal take second place to Luffy or anyone else's for that matter, he bears the weight of two people's dreams, his heart isn’t going to be swayed by some pirate.

Speaking of Kuina, her impact and influence on Zoro's life isn’t talked about enough for my liking. She was Zoro's first friend, his first rival, his first goal. He looked up to her so much and his reaction to her passing cracks my heart in half every time because you can seem him just..go numb. Kuina, dead? Kuina, the strongest person he knows, gone? Kuina, who swore to him just yesterday they’d race to the top of the world together, doesn’t exist anymore. His blank face only cracking within the privacy of his sensei before he begs. He begs on his knees, tears streaming down his face please please please let me take Kuina's sword with me. Let me take our dream to a high neither of us could imagine. I won’t let her name die here.

On top of gaining the Wado Ichimonji that day Zoro also gained…fear. Not of death, well at the very least not his own, he gained his fear of not being enough. Kuina kicked his ass every way a person could and still died, what could someone like him do? So he trains…and trains…and trains some more. Overly, obsessively, constantly telling himself he’s not enough, he’s weak, he can’t protect anyone like this and everyone's death would be on him.

As for Zoro being cold and stoic that’s just…not completely true? He’s not stone, he can be excited or sad or angry just as much as most characters he just sucks at showing it canonically (Kuina thinks he hates her before their final fight after all). Sure he’s not as forthcoming about it as some of the other Strawhats but Zoro's more of an action guy anyway, he'll show his love with his protection and unwavering faith.

In conclusion, Zoro is a ridiculously stubborn, incredibly loyal, mildly emotionally constipated, do what you say/say what you mean kinda guy.

(Also that whole ‘Zoro would kill the whole crew if Luffy asked him to’ thing? Top ten stupidest things I’ve ever heard from the fandom and that’s saying a lot. He’s loyal not brainless and heartless guys if Luffy asked him to do that, he would never but I digress, Zoro would square the fuck up with him so fast. DPMO.)

[goldsainz]

# DREW STARKEY — ACTORS ON ACTORS !

MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ drew and you participate in variety’s “actors on actors” series.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ cursing, talking about nude scenes, probably inaccurate acting experiences.

003. NOTE !

✯ sorry to all the actors i stole roles from😭 also zendaya is used as a face claim for the social media but the writing is inclusive and has no descriptors of physical appearance… or at least i hope so.

word count : 5,4k (chat i got carried away)

The cozy studio was bathed in warm light, designed almost as if to feel like a welcoming living room. Two plush chairs faced each other, separated by a low coffee table adorned with a few carefully placed books and a small vase of fresh flowers. Everything about the space was crafted to exude intimacy and warmth, inviting open conversation.

Drew Starkey entered the room first, his usual calm confidence mingled with a tinge of nervous energy. He smoothed his shirt absentmindedly and scanned the setup, trying to ground himself in the moment. He was used to being in front of cameras, but this felt different. This wasn’t just about promoting a project or answering rapid-fire questions on a press junket. This was you.

“Hello,” Drew started, a smile gracing his features as he took in the fact that he was sitting right in front of his number one celebrity crush. His hand hovered awkwardly in a small wave, as if he couldn’t believe this was real.

“Hi,” you said back, a giggle falling past your lips when you noticed his sheepish look. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” he said, his voice just a little higher than usual. Drew cleared his throat, laughing at himself, which made you laugh too. “Sorry, I’m… a little nervous.”

“Oh, don’t be,” you reassured him with a warm smile. “I promise, I don’t bite.”

“Good to know.” He chuckled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “How are you doing?”

“I’m great, thank you. What about you?”

“Pretty good, can’t complain.” A laugh bubbled out of him, and subsequently, you. The way he rubbed the back of his neck made you think he was still pinching himself that this was happening.

The cameras rolled, capturing the easy charm and immediate chemistry between the two of you. 

Drew’s grin widened as he began. “First of all, let me just say—I’m completely starstruck right now. I mean, the way you completely own every role you take on... it’s incredible.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, a bashful laugh escaping as you waved off the compliment. “Oh, stop it. You’re making me blush!”

“I’m serious,” he pressed, leaning forward slightly. “You’re like… the blueprint. If I ever get even halfway to where you are, I’ll consider myself lucky.”

“Well, now you’re just flattering me,” you said, your voice teasing but your cheeks undeniably warm. “But thank you, that’s so sweet. And honestly, you’re being way too hard on yourself. You’re incredible in Queer. You’ve got this natural charm that just lights up the screen.”

“Natural charm, huh?” He smirked, pretending to preen, which made you laugh again. “I’ll take that.”

“Good,” you replied, smiling. “You should, because it’s true.”

Drew’s gaze softened, the teasing giving way to something more earnest. “That means a lot, really. Especially coming from you. You’re like… Hollywood royalty to many.”

You tilted your head, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “To many, huh? And are you part of this many?”

Drew’s eyes widened, and he laughed, a little caught off guard. “Oh, absolutely. I’ve got a lifetime membership to the fan club.”

“Good to know,” you teased, crossing your legs and leaning back in your chair with an air of mock superiority. “I’ll have to start charging you membership fees.”

“Totally worth it,” he shot back, his grin widening.

“Well, thank you,” you said with a soft laugh, “So, we’ve both got some things in common, which I think is pretty cool.”

“Like working with Daniel Craig?” he asked.

“Yes! Honestly, I still reminisce about our time on set… he’s genuinely incredible, isn’t he?”

“He is, yeah. I found myself just admiring him and sort of forgetting I had to act too. He’s just… he’s on another level, for sure.”

“Daniel’s a master of his craft… Most of my scenes as Paloma in No Time To Die were with him, and at first I was so nervous because, like, what if I messed up in front of the Daniel Craig?” Drew let out a laugh at your words, and you couldn’t help but laugh too. “But when he noticed I was nervous he reassured me that it was all good. He’s just the best.”

“You’ve worked with so many high-profile actors.” You nod slightly at his words, as if it were the most common thing in the world. “Are you always nervous when meeting them, or was it just a Daniel thing?”

“It wasn’t just Daniel, no, but I think it depends. For example, when I did Oppenheimer with Cillian Murphy, for some reason I felt more relaxed… even though I had some nude scenes with him.”

“Nude scenes just make you connect, don’t they?” he joked, leaning back with a sly grin.

“They do, actually,” you replied, leaning into the banter. “You’d think they’d be worse, but honestly, with the amount of seriousness and concentration they take, it’s like you don’t have time to be nervous.”

“You clearly pulled it off flawlessly,” Drew said with mock solemnity. 

“You did too in Queer.” You compliment him, “I watched it a few days ago, and the chemistry you had with Daniel was just off the charts.”

Drew’s face lit up, a mix of pride and bashfulness crossing his features. “Daniel’s an amazing scene partner. He really made it easy for me to tap into everything.”

“Well, it shows,” you said. “It was such a raw and beautiful performance. I might’ve shed a tear or two.”

“Okay, now you’re just trying to make me blush,” Drew teased, pointing at you with a playful squint. “But seriously, that means a lot coming from you.”

“Hey, give credit where it’s due,” you shot back with a grin. “You’ve got this way of making everything feel so real. Like when you’re in pain, we’re in pain. When you’re in love, we’re falling right alongside you.”

“Wow,” he said, shaking his head as if to clear it. “I don’t know what to do with all these compliments. This is the best therapy session I’ve ever had.”

You laughed, crossing your legs and leaning forward slightly. “Well, I’m glad I could help. But now I’m curious—how did you prepare for a role like that? I mean, it’s so emotionally intense, no?.”

“It was a lot of journaling, a lot of talking with Luca about backstory and motivations,” Drew explained, his tone more thoughtful. “And honestly, I kind of drew from real-life experiences. Not the exact ones, obviously, but just feelings of vulnerability and… wanting to be understood.”

“That’s beautiful,” you said softly, your smile turning tender. “It’s amazing how much of ourselves we pour into these characters.”

“Exactly,” Drew agreed. “And sometimes it’s terrifying, but when it resonates with people, it feels worth it.”

“It definitely resonated with me,” you assured him. “And I’m sure with countless others too.”

“That’s really nice to hear,” he said with a soft smile.

“How was it for you to work with Luca? Because I remember it being one of the highlights of my career.”

Drew’s eyes lit up at the mention of Luca Guadagnino, and he leaned forward slightly, as if the memory itself was a magnet pulling him closer. “Oh, working with Luca was… incredible,” he said, his voice laced with awe. “He’s got this way of creating such a safe, open space on set. It’s almost like he’s not just directing—he’s inviting you into this world he’s building in his head.”

You nodded eagerly, your own memories of working with Luca bringing a nostalgic smile to your face. “I know exactly what you mean. He makes it feel like you’re collaborating on this deeply personal piece of art, rather than just executing someone else’s vision.”

“Exactly!” Drew said, gesturing animatedly. “And he has this way of pulling things out of you that you didn’t even know you had. Like, he’ll ask you one simple question, and suddenly you’re diving into this emotional rabbit hole.”

You laughed, tilting your head in agreement. “He asked me once, ‘What would this character, Maren in my case, dream about?’ and it completely changed how I approached the next scene.”

Drew’s mouth dropped open in mock surprise. “He asked me the exact same question!”

“No way!” you exclaimed, your laughter spilling out in disbelief. “I love that! It’s honestly such a deceptively simple question, but it opens up so many layers.”

“It really does,” Drew said, chuckling. “And then you’re sitting there like, ‘Okay, now I have to rethink everything I thought I knew about this character.’”

“It’s kind of genius, though,” you added. “He makes you work harder, but not in a way that feels forced. It’s like… he trusts you to figure it out, but he gives you these breadcrumbs to follow.”

“Exactly,” Drew said again, his tone growing softer. “I think that’s why his films feel so intimate, he gets the human part so right.”

You smiled, letting his words settle in the air for a moment. “I think that’s what makes working with him feel like such a privilege. It’s not just about telling a story—it’s about feeling it.”

Drew nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “And those are the moments that stick with you, you know? The ones where you felt something real, even if it was just for a moment.”

“Completely,” you agreed, your voice soft with sincerity. “Those moments are why we do this.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in companionable silence, the weight of the conversation settling in the cozy studio. Then, Drew broke the quiet with a grin. “Okay, but did Luca make you do those impromptu rehearsals at, like, the crack of dawn?”

“Oh my God, yes!” you burst out, your eyes widening. “I’d just roll out of bed with zero coffee and somehow be expected to pour my soul into a scene.”

Drew laughed, his face lighting up. “Right? It’s like, ‘Good morning, here’s your emotional breakdown for the day.’”

You laughed along with him, the shared experience adding another thread to the easy camaraderie forming between you. “But honestly, I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.”

“Same,” Drew said, his expression softening again. “For Luca? Anytime.”

“Absolutely,” you agreed, your eyes locking with his for a moment before the warmth of the studio light reminded you both that the cameras were still rolling.

Drew shifted in his seat slightly, his expression thoughtful. “You know, it’s kind of wild—hearing you talk about all these incredible experiences. You’ve been doing this for so long, and yet it’s like you’re just getting started.”

You tilted your head with a small smile. “That’s sweet of you to say. But yeah, I guess I have been in this industry for most of my life. It’s all I’ve ever really known.”

Drew’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s crazy to think about. I didn’t even consider acting until after college. You must’ve been, what, ten? Eleven?”

“Eight, actually,” you corrected with a chuckle. “My first role was in this little indie film. I was basically just the kid who ran around in the background eating ice cream, but I thought it was the coolest thing ever.”

He laughed, clearly amused. “That’s adorable. And now you’re the Hollywood It Girl. No big deal.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, your laughter light. “Oh, stop it. But yeah, it’s been a journey. Growing up on sets definitely shaped me, for better or worse. Sometimes I wonder what it would’ve been like to have a more ‘normal’ childhood.”

Drew’s smile softened. “That must’ve been such a whirlwind. I can’t even imagine starting that young. I didn’t even think about acting seriously until high school.”

“Oh, I’ve read about that!” You said, your voice lighting up. “You were all about sports growing up, right?”

“Yeah,” Drew admitted with a chuckle. “I was your typical small-town kid—baseball, basketball, you name it. I was convinced I was going to go pro in something, but clearly, that didn’t pan out.”

“Well, I think acting suits you pretty well.” 

“Thank you,” he says with a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “But yeah, the real shift happened in high school when I joined a drama class. It was all Samuel Beckett and absurdist plays, which at the time I thought was the coolest thing ever.”

You leaned forward, intrigued. “So that’s what pulled you in? Drama class?”

“Pretty much,” he said with a nod. “And then I went to Western Carolina for college. I double-majored in English and theater, thinking, ‘If this acting thing doesn’t work out, I’ll at least have a backup plan.’”

“That’s so realistic of you,” you said with a laugh. “Meanwhile, I was ten, telling anyone who’d listen that I was going to win an Oscar one day.”

“And look at you now,” Drew said, gesturing to you with an almost reverent smile. “You made it happen.”

You chuckled, a bit flustered by his admiration. “Well, not quite, just an Oscar nominee for now. But thank you. You know, I think your journey’s pretty incredible too. A double major? That’s no joke. And starting later in the game like you did… it must have felt like a slow burn, but it’s clearly paid off.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Drew said thoughtfully. “It was definitely a slower burn for me. I didn’t land my first real gig until I’d been auditioning for what felt like forever.”

“I think that makes your journey even more special,” you said, your tone sincere. “You came into it with all this life experience and maturity. It shows in your work, you know? There’s this depth to your performances that’s just… rare.”

Drew’s ears turned a little pink, and he laughed softly, glancing down at his hands. “Wow, you’re gonna make me blush over here.”

“Good,” you said with a teasing smile. “It’s only fair after all the compliments you’ve been throwing my way.”

He looked up, his grin sheepish but warm. “Touché. But seriously, hearing that from someone like you—someone who’s been at this for so long and is so insanely talented—it means a lot.”

“Well,” you replied with a playful tilt of your head, “I think it’s safe to say we’re officially mutual fans.”

Drew laughed at that, the sound easy and genuine. “I can live with that.”

The conversation shifted into more comfortable territory as the two of you shared experiences, trading stories about acting and the film industry. Drew, now feeling at ease, leaned forward with renewed interest.

“You know,” he began, a thoughtful expression crossing his face, “I've been thinking about how different TV shows and movies are, especially when it comes to the pacing and character development. Like, in a show, we have to maintain this ongoing energy for the characters over multiple seasons. But with movies, it’s a totally different vibe, right?”

You nodded, understanding immediately where he was going. “It’s definitely a huge shift. With TV, you’re given time to build on a character slowly. Every episode is another chapter, so you can explore new facets of them and keep the audience hooked for longer periods of time. But movies, they’re this intense sprint. You have to get everything across in just two hours or so, but in a way that feels just as layered and satisfying.”

Drew's eyes lit up with excitement, clearly passionate about the topic. "Exactly! You have to balance the action and suspense while still giving the characters these moments of vulnerability. Over multiple seasons, you can really let them grow and change. It's like a slow burn. But when you're doing a movie, you don’t have the luxury of that buildup. It has to be this concentrated emotional punch right from the start.”

“That’s one of the biggest challenges of film, for sure," you agreed. "In a film, every second counts. You can’t afford to waste a moment. But I think what’s also interesting is how both mediums can explore a character’s journey from different angles. TV shows can dive into their backstory in more detail, but movies... they really need to hit those emotional beats and leave an impact without dragging it out."

Drew smiled, clearly engaged in the discussion. “In TV shows you need that perfect balance of suspense, character development, and personal growth. And then, at the end of the season, you drop a huge bombshell that leaves people wanting more.”

You laughed, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Sounds like you’ve been doing some serious thinking about it. What’s the secret to keeping the audience hooked without losing the depth of your character?”

He leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “Well, I think it’s about letting the characters evolve with the story. You need to make sure the audience sees the human side of your character, even when they're in these crazy situations. It’s what keeps people invested in the long run.”

“You’ve really got the process figured out,” you said with a smile. “But you’re right—it’s a different rhythm for TV. With a movie, you get to go deep quickly, but with a show, you have to keep it dynamic and varied. And let’s not forget, you need that cliffhanger at the end to make people binge-watch the next season.”

Drew’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “You’re giving away all the secrets! Next thing you know, people will be expecting a cliffhanger every time they watch a movie."

“Well, movies and TV are both art, but they demand different approaches,” you said, “and you’re doing an amazing job balancing both. I’m honestly so excited to see where your career goes next. Both worlds are lucky to have you.”

He chuckled softly, clearly humbled. “Thanks. I think I’m just lucky to be a part of both. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be in a show that gets people talking for days?”

“Right? You’ve got Outer Banks, which has such a dedicated fanbase, and then movies like Queer that touch people in such a different way. It’s amazing to watch your versatility.”

He leaned in slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. “I’m just trying to keep up with you. Honestly, your transition from action to more emotional roles is inspiring. I hope I can pull off something even close to what you’ve done with your career.”

Your smile softened, your voice sincere. “Well, you’re already doing it, Drew. You’re already there. It’s not just about the roles—it’s about the heart you put into them. And you’ve definitely got that.”

Drew’s smile faltered for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in. His gaze softened, as if he were truly reflecting on what you’d said. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms but keeping his eyes on you, his expression thoughtful.

“It's crazy, isn't it?” He began, his voice a little quieter now, “The idea of giving so much of yourself to something that feels so... intimate. But when it works, when the audience feels it too, there's nothing like it.”

“Exactly,” you agreed, your voice a little quieter now. “That's the real magic, when the audience feels like they know the characters, like they're right there with them. It’s not about the plot twists or the fancy sets—it’s about the emotions that we build and share with them.”

Drew nodded thoughtfully, his gaze drifting away for a moment before returning to you. “Speaking of emotions, I just saw your new movie, We Live In Time,” he said, his voice taking on a softer tone. “It’s one of those films that stays with you, you know? It’s raw in a way that makes you uncomfortable, but it’s also beautiful. How did you tap into that for Almut?”

Your expression softened as you thought back on the experience. We Live In Time had been a journey—a raw, almost therapeutic one. “It was an emotional rollercoaster, honestly,” you said, leaning back slightly, letting the memory settle in. “I think the hardest part was showing that moment where her whole world shifts. It was such a raw, profound type of emotion I had to channel in order to do justice to the character and her experiences.”

Drew sat back, letting the weight of the conversation settle. “I think that's what makes your career so incredible. You never just play a character. You become them. And you take us with you. Every heartbreak, every triumph, every moment of doubt... we feel it all with you. That's what makes your work so powerful.”

You met his gaze, feeling the depth of the conversation linger between you both. “It’s all about connection, right? Connecting with the character, with the audience, and with the emotions that we all share as humans. Because at the end of the day, we’re all just trying to make sense of time, love, and the moments we get.”

Drew smiled, his expression genuine and soft. “Well, you’ve definitely made sense of it for me. We Live In Time—it’s not just a movie. It’s a reminder to cherish what we have. And that, in itself, is something special.”

You smiled back, your heart full as you let the words sink in. “Thank you, Drew. That’s really sweet of you.”

You both shared a comfortable silence for a moment, before Drew broke it with a playful grin. “You know, it’s clear you’ve mastered the art of vulnerability on screen, but I can’t help but wonder—did you ever have moments on set where it was just... impossible to take things seriously?”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Oh, absolutely. In fact, as a kid, it was all impossible to be serious,” you admitted, shaking your head at the memory. “I remember this one time during a scene on set when I was probably around 9 or 10. We were supposed to be doing this emotional scene, and I had to cry on cue. But instead of crying, I couldn’t stop giggling. It was a dramatic moment, and my co-star was all serious and trying to get through the scene, but I just... lost it.”

Drew raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Giggling during a dramatic scene? What happened?”

“Well, my director, bless her heart, kept trying to give me these 'serious actor' looks. She was this no-nonsense kind of woman, and she had this way of narrowing her eyes when things weren’t going well. I tried my best to hold it together, but then my co-star—who was way too good at being serious—looked at me and just gave this super intense stare, and that was it. I burst out laughing right in the middle of the take.”

Drew chuckled, shaking his head. “I can just picture that. You were probably trying to hold it together, but it must have been so hard with all that tension in the air.”

“I swear, the more I tried not to laugh, the harder it became,” you continued, grinning at the memory. “It was one of those moments where you’re like, 'Why am I even here? I can’t do this.' But somehow, I got through it. The director had to take a deep breath, and we did a few more takes. Eventually, we got it done, but I think we all were on the verge of cracking up the whole time.”

Drew let out a laugh, clearly imagining the scene. “I can’t blame you. I feel like as a kid, you have no filter. Everything feels like a joke, and it’s so hard to be serious when everyone else is trying so hard.”

“You have no idea,” you said, your voice still light. “There were so many times I’d be doing a serious scene, and I’d start thinking about something random, like a certain meme or a funny sound someone made on set—and then, bam, it was game over. I’d be holding in a laugh like my life depended on it.”

Drew smirked, leaning in a little. “I totally feel that. I mean, as an adult, I still have moments where I struggle to keep a straight face. I once had a scene where I was supposed to be super intense, but the prop guy was standing just out of frame, and he made this ridiculous face at me—completely threw me off. I couldn’t stop laughing, and it ended up taking hours to finish the scene because we kept cracking up. Honestly, I think the crew started to get annoyed with us after a while.”

“See?” you said with a grin. “It never really changes. Truthfully, the older you get, the harder it becomes to hold it in. But then you look at the footage and realize how much fun you actually had, and that makes it all worth it.”

Drew nodded thoughtfully, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Yeah, that’s the thing. Sometimes it’s the moments you didn’t plan for that end up being the most memorable. Like when you have a laugh on set, and suddenly you feel closer to everyone, even though you’re supposed to be in character.”

“Exactly,” you said, your smile widening. “There’s something so beautiful about those unscripted moments. It reminds you that acting is, at its core, about connecting—whether that’s through laughter or the heavy stuff. And even though I had my fair share of giggling fits as a kid, I think those moments taught me just as much as the serious ones. Maybe more.”

Drew leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “It's funny how those little moments—like a laugh in the middle of a serious scene—can end up being the ones you remember the most. I think those are the ones that make the work feel real, you know?”

You smiled, your gaze distant as you reflected on the years of working on sets. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“Yeah, like those unscripted moments,” Drew added, his voice quieter now, as if the weight of the sentiment lingered in the air. “They give the performance an authenticity that you can’t get from just following the script to a tee.”

You nodded, the words hanging between you like a shared understanding. “Exactly. And as a kid, I was so focused on getting it ‘right’—on being perfect—that I missed the beauty of just being in the moment. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized how important it is to let go of the idea of perfection. It's in those mistakes, the wrong takes, the bloopers—that's where you find the truth.”

Drew's expression softened, his eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that made your chest tighten. “I think it’s key not to be afraid to show the mess, the imperfect parts of a character, because that’s what makes them human.”

A small chuckle escaped you, the warmth of the moment filling the studio. “Right? We’re all just a little bit of a mess, trying to figure it out, but that’s what makes the journey worth it. We’re constantly learning, constantly evolving, and we bring that to our work. The growth, the mistakes—it all shapes us.”

Drew nodded, his gaze shifting as if reflecting on those same ideas. “Yeah, and the growth never stops, does it? Just when you think you’ve figured it out, something new happens, and it challenges you again.”

“That's the beauty of it,” you said, your voice quieter now, the bond between you both deepening. “The challenge is what keeps it exciting, keeps you moving forward.”

Drew grinned, a playful spark lighting his eyes once more. “Well, I guess we’re both lifelong students of this thing called acting, huh?”

“Absolutely,” you said with a laugh, the lightness returning. “And just like any good student, we’ll always be learning. Who knows, maybe we'll even get better at not laughing in the middle of dramatic scenes.”

Drew let out a hearty laugh, nodding enthusiastically. “I think that’s going to take years of practice, honestly.”

You both shared a moment of genuine laughter, the warmth of your conversation filling the space around you. You leaned back into the chairs, the laughter still lingering in the air, a sense of camaraderie that made the space between you feel comfortable and open. You continued sharing stories, moving seamlessly from one experience to the next.

The conversation began to slow, the easy flow of stories fading into a comfortable silence, as you both shared an unspoken understanding. The light laughter that had filled the room now felt like a warm, lingering hum between you.

Drew shifted slightly in his chair, his gaze turning toward you with a subtle, thoughtful expression. “You know,” he began, his voice softer now, “I really hope we get to work together sometime. I think it’d be incredible. It’s the kind of thing where I can already imagine what it’d be like. Just... easy, real. Like this.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you kept your composure, offering a smile that spoke volumes. “I’d love that. If you receive a call from your manager these days… maybe I had something to do with it, so be prepared.”

The air between you both was charged, the quiet intensity of the moment not lost on either of you. There was something unspoken, something deeper that neither of you addressed outright but that seemed to hang there all the same. The connection was undeniable, yet it lingered in the silence, unspoken, but clear.

Drew finally broke the spell with a playful grin, his eyes flicking back to yours. “Oh, I’ll be ready. Can’t wait to see what magic we create together.”

You returned his smile, your heart racing ever so slightly, though you kept it hidden behind the ease of your words. “I’m sure it’ll be something incredible.”

As the interview wrapped up, there was a lingering sense of something unspoken between you both, an attraction that neither of you had to mention but was so clearly felt. The kind of connection that could only be hinted at, but would never truly fade. It was the kind of moment that would stay with both of you long after the cameras stopped rolling.

“Thank you,” you said softly as the final moments of the interview started to loom, your voice carrying a depth that reflected everything unsaid between you. “This has been amazing. Honestly, it feels like we’ve been talking for hours, and yet it still doesn’t feel like enough.”

He nodded, his expression soft but genuine. “I feel the same way. This has been one of the most honest and open conversations I’ve had in a long time.”

The crew began to pack up, signaling that the interview was at its end, but neither of you seemed in any hurry to break the moment. The usual chatter and movement around you felt distant, as if the two of you were in your own world for just a little longer.

“You know,” Drew said, his voice quieter now, a hint of sincerity threading through, “I think we make a pretty good team even just sitting here talking. Imagine what we could do with a whole script.”

Your smile softened, and you nodded, the words feeling right, but the undertone of something more—something unsaid—hung in the air. “Yeah, I think we’d be unstoppable.”

The moment stretched between you both, filled with the kind of comfortable tension that comes when you realize you’ve shared something real. Something that felt like it could turn into something more.

You both stood up, a final, lingering moment before the usual goodbye. Drew extended a hand, his gaze holding yours a beat longer than necessary.

“Take care, okay?” he said, his voice warm, like the words carried more than just a polite farewell.

You shook his hand, the warmth of his touch lingering just a moment longer than expected. “You too, Drew,” you replied, your voice soft yet carrying an undercurrent of meaning that mirrored his own.

As you turned to gather your things, you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder. He was still standing there, watching you with that same thoughtful expression, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. The faintest smile curved his lips, as if he were replaying the conversation in his mind.

“See you around,” he called out, the words simple but loaded with promise.

“Yeah,” you said, meeting his gaze one last time. “See you around.”

Walking away, you felt a peculiar lightness, as though something intangible had shifted, leaving you both exhilarated and curious. It wasn’t every day you met someone who made you feel seen in such a profound way, and as you left the studio, you found yourself smiling, a quiet hope blooming in your chest.

And for a fleeting second, you allowed yourself to wonder what could come next.

[flamingpudding]

Little Snippets #6

(A/N: Vote winner so I did my best to finish this)

"Screw it, i am done..." Danny grumbled as he stepped onto the watchtower through a portal, ignoring the startled heroes around him, or his own rather disheveled state. His green glowing eyes surveyed the room he was in for a brief moment before his eyes zeroed in on the one hero that caused to much work for him.

"YOU!" He pointed an accusing finger at the red clad hero before floating over and grabbing the hero by the front of his hero suit. "Do you have any idea how much work you cause me!"

Danny got one confused blink before he launched into a rather thorough explanation of what he just went through fixing 20 different timelines that got created because of one flashpoint while shaking the Flash like he was a ragdoll, ignoring the other heroes around him.

Clark, who arrived a little late to the meeting, looked around the meeting room confused. He glanced to the side to one of his hero colleagues. "Is there....?"

"A white haired floating teen boy giving Barry the lecture of a lifetime?" Oliver cut in arms crossed as he watched on. "Yes, there is."

Clark blinked, looking back at the scene and then back at Oliver. "And..."

"And Bruce is actually taking notes and enjoying Barry getting lectured to an inch of his speedster life while also getting information on time itself? Yes he is." Oliver added an, his tone slightly frustrated but also happy that he wasn't at the receiving end of the teen boy's rant. The kid had been going on about different time lines and the multiverse theory as well as how Barry apparently created several different timelines any time a new flashpoint happened or the past gets seemingly changed. Oliver wasn't even sure the kid was breathing with the way he had been talking non stop.

"And for the record! Changing the past does not automatically fix your present! You just created an entirely new timeline! Do you know how many times I had to fix these? You left so many unattended timelines! I would be rich now if I had gotten a dollar for every time I or my siblings had to fix the stuff you did! Did you ever hear about the multiverse theory?! Hell you are heroes! Didn't you deal with other universes already!?"

The kid rambled on and Clark was pretty sure he wasn't hearing the kid breath in once, which was worrying in so many different levels. But a little traitor part of his mind was actually finding the situation quiet funny.

"Oh and don't get me started on your spawns!" Clark winced a little as he heard the floating boy breath in for the first time in his entire rant before launching into another rant about how it wasn't just Barry but his entire family. Next to him Oliver chucked finding the moment simply funny end enjoying the show of Barry, aka the Flash getting lectured by a floating teen boy.

Though they partially wondered why Bruce wasn't stepping in but then again, the kids rant was... rather informative if he wasn't cursing at Barry's entire family.

A little earlier that day...

Danny groaned as a green note fluttered onto his desk in the middle of his English exam. His head hit the desk and he was sure he was creating some sort of misunderstanding and appearing like he didn't study enough for this exam. Which for once he did, he actually had managed to get time to study for this exam for once. And that despite all the work that had been piling up lately.

The fun fact was that work didn't pile up because of some ghost king title or something, or his rogues dogpiling on him. No it piled up because of a hero organisation outside of Amity. Now don't get him wrong, he admires these heroes. The ones from outer space are his favorites even. But unknown to them they caused im a lot of work ever since clockwork started to mentor him.

Danny glanced at his English exam and then at the note before his head hit the desk again.

Just one day... was one day to much to ask?

He blames whatever hero was at fault this time as he couldn't concentrate on is exam anymore. He barely remembers finishing it as he hurried out of the classroom, forgetting to give Sam and Tucker an explanation as he went ghost and hurried of to the ghost zone. Danny's eye twitch a little when he noticed Clockworks amused expression.

"What is it this time?" Danny groaned already knowing he wouldn't like what he was going to hear.

"Another flashpoint was created. You know what this means." Clockwork chucked handing him a time medallion and Danny groaned even more.

"Can't Dan or Dani..." He started but Clockwork cut him off with an amused headshake. "No, they are currently busy with another job I gave them."

Reluctantly Danny nodded and stepped through the time portal. While he knew, he would actually only be gone for a minute at most in the present, it still annoyed him that he had to constantly fix time. And most of the time it was because of one specific hero at that. He was not looking forward on how many different timelines he had to fix right now now. this was going to take a while too. Even if only maybe a minute will pass in his timeline.

He still had bruises from the last 20 timelines he fixed. And in all honesty he was getting tired of this kid of work, he was partially sure Clockwork was him now, so he wouldn't have to do this himself. Or the ancient of time was getting a kick out of watching Danny fumble while fixing other timelines.

He yelped as he dodged velocraptors right after coming out of the time portal. "SERIOUSLY?! THE MESOZOIC ERA THIS TIME TOO?! WHAT AM I EVEN SUPOSED TO FIX HERE?!" He yelled at nothing in particular. That was it, this time, this time he decided he would finally go and pay these heroes a visit and make them aware how much work they had been causing him...

[miriani-lavellan]

Ahh, Lucanis. So let me first say, his scenes make total sense and I'm happy with what we got - we all want more from our faves, but they did manage to compact a lot of trauma and resolution in some fairly compact quests. Here's what I think happened that wasn't made explicitly clear though:

Lucanis chooses the pantry to sleep in because he's been imprisoned and tortured for a year, and he's not ready to leave captivity yet, not inside his head. He locks himself in there because it's familiar misery to him, which is easier to deal with than scary freedom.

Lucanis' letter to Rook before he asks Emmrich to bring Zara back for questioning tells us he's suicidal at that point, and probably has been for a while. Spite, however, doesn't see him as a lost cause - he never uses that to take over Lucanis' body entirely. This is so interesting to me, when we know things like that pretty famously happen all the time in Thedas. He's determined to keep Lucanis alive - and he asks for Rook's help in doing so.

We are in the NORTH now BABY! Attitudes towards spirits and demons are different here, especially in Rivain, and it seems with our Rook too, who never expresses any chantry-esque hang ups (that I've seen). Seer Rowan greets Spite as Determination, and that's how he's introduced by Isabela (with some excitement) if you fight in the hall of Valor. What happened to Spite is just as sad as what happened to Lucanis. He was violated, perhaps corrupted, and definitely trapped - and hurts Lucanis sometimes in his frustration. But, I think he likes Lucanis! He's his host's little head gremlin, and I think the relationship they have (that we don't see too much of) is healthier than any of the possessed individuals we've seen before.

Because? Lucanis is not a spiteful person. He wants revenge, yes, and he's angry, but he doesn't hurt everyone around him because he's in pain. One of the first things he does when he becomes part of the team is go shopping for them. And despite how Ilario and Caterina have hurt him - and you can argue all day whether he's right to be like this - he still cares for them.

I think that when we help Lucanis leave the prison inside his head, we are helping Spite to return to his original nature as Determination just a little more. We're determined to help our friend, and you know what? Spite is too. For himself, firstly, because Lucanis's pain is hurting him, but in the end, he's done it for Lucanis too. There's an argument there that Determination didn't get corrupted at all - just hurt, and that Lucanis, with his loving nature, has been keeping him from turning into a mindless demon of pain.

I thought for a long time that when Lucanis breaks away from kissing Rook, it was because Spite said something horrible to him. But actually, I think it was Lucanis himself, remembering how trapped he is. Thinking about the eventuality of killing himself - I strongly suspect that's what he was thinking about before he fell asleep, and that's why Spite was trying to go walkabout - trying to get out from where Lucanis can't. Lucanis got lost in the moment, but of course he doesn't want to drag Rook into that.

Lucanis making dessert for Rook and thinking that's the same as asking them out (but not actually asking them out) is so completely on brand for him I laughed. He has no idea what he's doing. It would have been nice, though, for Rook to reply to one of the companion's 'so you're together?' banters with... 'we are?' Or for Rook to be able to ask him. Unfortunately, we don't get those convos where we can spam ask questions etc like in DA:I - I did wonder if that got cut and we missed some resolution to that.

Lucanis gives no shits about everyone knowing he's Rook's love interest. He's not ashamed of himself or scared he'll hurt them - Rook has helped both him and Spite. And judging by the way Spite's wings come out to embrace Rook as they kiss Lucanis, I suspect that Spite might love them, too.