#i was an atom back when i used to use it

[linterteatime]

Ahhhh your arts so cute!!! I love the shapes you use and the expressions a lot!! (It also reminds me of someone i used to follow on google+ lmao. Positively) 🩷🩷

Aww thank you so much!! That's very nice o- GOOGLE+!?!?oh my go- oh positively, okay okay we good, ty very much!! I appreciate it a lot ദ്ദി(៸៸›ᴗ‹៸៸ )💕💕💕

[daydreamerdrew]

The Power Fantasy (2024) #6 and #2

[tonycries]

Unmistakably Yours - G.S.

Synopsis. In which the strongest bends space and time - literally - after coming back from deatḣ, to do what he’s always wanted to do - you.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, best friends to lovers, Satoru goes a little (very) INSANE, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, manga spoilers, use of jujutsu powers, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, féral Satoru, heinous things, happy ending, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.5k

A/N. Yeahhh that poll was cooking up something devious heheh. Gege give me back my man.

Gojo Satoru was going to kill someone.

He was going to kill someone and it didn’t matter who. It didn’t matter how. It didn’t even matter if he had to haul his broken body - scarred and barely-healed - out of this stiff infirmary bed, because the great Gojo Satoru awoke and the world shook.

Because you weren’t here.

“Ah. The oh-so deadest one, I see you’re awake.” Satoru flinches at the sharp, exhausted drawl from his left. 

Slowly, he blinks away the haze in his aching eyes, desperately trying to adjust to the cold room. Shoko’s voice was too loud. The lights too bright. His waiting arms too empty - where were you? 

With a low hiss, Satoru’s body is moving before his mind, sitting up like a man possessed. Goosebumps prickle his skin as the thin blanket falls off his shoulders. Temples throbbing because the world was spinning and spinning and you-

“Calm down, Satoru.” Shoko sounds almost panicked now - as much as she could, anyway. Uselessly trying to push him back onto the mattress. “I don’t care if you’re the ‘strongest’. Sukuna did a number on you and you have to rest-”

“Where is she?”

---

It was the final nail on your coffin - that slight, steady rumble beneath your feet. So fleeting that you’d written it off as your weary brain, too goddamn tired from today. Heaving out a sigh, you rub your eyes in frustration, so fucking alone in this too-large penthouse. 

Fingers jittery, you rifle through your best friend’s closet for his box of blindfolds, because you knew he’d be complaining about the sensory overload at the infirmary if- when he woke up. Though, you think that was more an excuse for Shoko to send your wrecked self away than anything. 

Grabbing a few more than necessary, your heart lurches as you eye that dusty framed photo by his bedside. A much younger Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and you - probably the last time any of you smiled so carelessly. 

One dead and the other just on the cusp of it.

He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’s the strongest, right?

Swallowing heavily, you try to put your mind to something - anything - other than the memory of that battlefield and the blood. So much blood. Everywhere. 

God, you should’ve stayed. What if Satoru-

That was when you felt it. 

The tight, uncomfortable feeling of atoms standing at attention all around you. The air was so stagnant and heavy that it was almost hard to breathe. 

You don’t know how you realize what it is - but you don’t get the chance to wonder about it either. Because the thought has barely even crossed your mind before everything else is thrown at the window at those two words. 

Hoarse, and whispered, voice ever-so-slightly cracking at the end. One you recognized, one you knew you always would.

“My love?”

Satoru.

It was a miracle that you didn’t get whiplash from how fast you whirled around to face the doorway - and it was an even bigger miracle that you didn’t trip at how your legs were carrying you to that tall, familiar flash of white hair without a second thought. 

Hell, you don’t think you’ve ever run this fast in your life, and it still wasn’t quick enough when Satoru engulfed you in his arms. Letting out a soft sigh as he hugs you tight enough that it hurt, like he never wanted to let go. 

All familiar warmth and a rapid heartbeat that matched your own. 

A shiver runs down your spine at that scent of the infirmary, tinged with something so dangerously metallic, miles away from the usual hints of pine and candy. But you only pull Satoru closer - not even realizing the tears staining his snug t-shirt, nails digging into his sculpted back. 

“S-Satoru?” you murmur wetly, as if you still couldn’t believe it - even when you were in his strong arms. 

It killed you to pull away, and Satoru wasn’t any better, pulling you firmly to his heated body with a guttural grunt as soon as you showed any signs of shifting away. Grip almost bruising, fingers tight on your hips. But you didn’t mind, why would you? 

Because the strongest was nothing under your will - he always was. And it’s only once you break the embrace just a fraction of an inch that you confirm that this actually was Satoru - your Satoru. 

“You’re here.” you breathe out unsteadily, not knowing where to look first - his heaving chest, as if he’d run all the way here, or those faint scars along his exposed skin. Jagged, running down his pale skin like he was too impatient - too distracted - to let them heal properly. Satoru’s face was scarily blank, pretty lips set in a tight grimace like every second you weren’t locked in his arms killed him. 

He doesn’t answer - like he didn’t know himself. Nervously, you raise your eyes to meet his and-

Oh, Satoru, he was here. Alive.

Looking like he was ready to make sure that no one else was.

You just wondered where they’d pile all the casualties. Too many to bury at Jujutsu High if those tiny blue flickers of lightning at the corners of Satoru’s eyes were anything to go by. 

Gaze hooded, pupils blown, he didn’t look at you with that usual warmth. No, he looked at you like a man that had crawled back from death just to rip you apart. And you had half the mind to wonder whether this was some special grade curse that had just come disguised as your best friend. 

“Are you okay?” you try again, raising a hand to cup his cheek. “Toru?”

Oh, you might as well have just signed your own will, because no sooner are the words out of your mouth before Satoru’s jolting. Like the mere sound of that stupid little nickname from high school was enough to shock him to his very core. 

Electrify him just enough to finally look at you like it was the first time. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. “My love.”

There it was again, that quiet, strained little mantra. 

Followed very closely by the deafening slam! of the door behind him, so hard that you spy one of the hinges rattling off. Startled, you look over Satoru’s broad shoulders just to catch a glimpse of the single, large handprint charred into the wood, slight steam wafting from his hand.

Shit. He’s lost it.

Almost like the strongest has forgotten his restraint - or didn’t care about it either way. Heated, you wondered what this boded for you. 

Will you be lucky number one on his kill list? You wonder, as Satoru presses his mouth right above your pulse. Racing. Dangerous. Feeling the rapid thump! thump! thump! under his lips.

Breathing you in, dragging his nose up, up, up- He mutters into your skin, “Y’can kill me if you don’t want this.” Will you go down - if there’s anyone left to remember, that is - as the casualty that surely and officially signaled the honored one’s descent into madness? Only the second best friend he had to kill?

Or, Satoru pulls away slowly from his little haven, breath ghosting your lips as he gasps out a shaky, “No God can take me away without doing this.” Will it be something else entirely?

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. 

Because fuck, how could you not? This is Satoru, and this is all you’ve ever wanted since those late night convenience store runs in high school, hand-in-hand and teleporting away from a furious Yaga.

The same Satoru that had cockily winked at you goodbye before facing Sukuna - leaving you crying with nothing to hold onto but those cold, cold hands and wishes that you’d have just fucking kissed him before. Maybe even put aside your pride to just tell him.

But none of that mattered now, because Satoru was so desperate - drinking you in like you were the last breath of air on Earth. Like it hurt more to part with your lips than it was to be cleaved in half.

Such a mess of teeth and saliva, and you were addicted. Drunk off his sweet taste - like candy, almost, and those cheap mochi he always got from downtown - and the electricity pricking at you each time your skin grazed against his.

It almost hurt - but it hurt so good.

Gasping, you pull away for air - impossible with the way Satoru was like a madman, kissing your swollen lips again and again and-

“Toru!” you squeal, muffled through his lips. “Aren’t you-” His mouth drops into a soft oh! at the delicate strings of saliva snapping in the non-existent space between you two. Surging forward like he couldn’t help himself. “Battlefield- mmpf- now?”

With a pained grunt, Satoru finally halts, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. And if you were in any better state of mind, maybe you’d have noticed the brief flicker of blue lightning all over his body. The way the lights flicker. 

“Special curtain.” he pants against your open mouth, a muscled thigh shoving between your weakening legs. “Time barely passes in here.”

You don’t know what your head is reeling more from his words or his hands - hands that kill - caressing you like a lover everywhere. Unable to decide between your hips, to your ass, to your pretty pretty face. Kiss-bitten lips uttering, “Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“So?” Satoru lets out a humorless laugh. About an octave higher than usual, like he was at the end of his rope now. Eyes hazy and glowing, looking as if it took everything in him to not just tear off that uniform and take you right now. 

“But-”

“Shut up and let me ruin you, my love.”

Your back is hitting the mattress before you can even start to wonder what the fuck is happening. One second standing at the doorway and the other all sprawled out on Satoru’s bed.

Besides yourself, you blurt out, trying to make sense of the situation to both of you two. “Did- did you just teleport us?”

“Don’t know.” he answers. And Satoru sounded like he genuinely didn’t know, as bewildered as you were. Powers acting before him - way, way before he can think - as he fists your shirt in his hands. “Don’t care.”

And you half wondered whether Satoru was even aware of what he was doing as he pulls, down, down down. 

Rip!

It tears through the air - both the sound, and the way he’s just pulling your shirt to shreds. All depravity and no repentance as Satoru throws it behind God-knows-where. Buttons hitting the floor at a maddening little rhythm to which he was slowly losing his sanity. 

He was kissing you like he was angry - taking it out on your poor clothes. Because before you know it, he’s pulling your bra off. Fingers searing on your skin, skirt just tatters on the floor. 

“Waited too long.” he groans, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. “Always wanted to do this.” And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into the valley of your breasts, “Ever since I first saw you and oh-”

That was it - only one look at your panties, all flimsy and drenched - and you’re back to wondering what Satoru’s kill count would be. You shudder as his eyes widen, letting out a strangled gasp from some deep, primal part of himself. Voice so broken and starved as he muses, “-can’t believe I waited this long.”

Shit. You weren’t making it out alive.

Immediately, Satoru’s dropping further down the mattress, easily pushing your knees up all the way till they were at your breasts. 

And it was so unfair. 

Unhair how he was still fully clothed, while you were spread so shamefully. Unfair how he was sliding his underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Up and down, up and down up and- Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips before pulling, marveling at how sinfully soaked they were. 

And it was like something snapped - maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this. Because just a split-second later, Satoru’s tearing right through your panties. Not even taking a second to breathe before burying his pretty face into your dripping cunt. 

Unfair how you were liking it so dangerously. Being so used. 

And Satoru knows - he thinks, with whatever rationality he has left intact - that he wants to admire your pretty lil’ cunt. To finally drink in what he’s been dreaming about for years all these lonely nights. But, no, that’s for later - for a different Satoru, one that didn’t feel like he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste you right now. 

“Ah! Hngh- T-Toru-” you arch into his hot tongue, as he licks erratically up your folds, long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Lapping at your juices like he couldn’t stop.

“Tha’s right.” words muffled into your cunt. Throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders. “Gimme more, use me. Use me- fuck fuck fuck- yeah.”

He sounded as delirious as you were already, flinching with each word spat into your sensitive cunt. Drunk off your pussy and so messy, like he was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

And it’s all you can do to sob so needily as he swirls his tongue around your sensitive clit. Seemingly unable to decide between sucking on it harshly and dipping into your sloppy hole. In and out. Wanting everything. Anything. 

“Fuck. S’too deep. Sh-shit.”

“Oh yeah?” he’s grinning, a cruel, cold little grin. You can feel it as he rolls his tongue against your clit over and over. “S’not deep enough.”

You pathetically try to close your legs around his head in shock, as the tips of his long fingers spread open your pussy further, teasing your entrance. 

But who were you against the strongest? The one that got everything handed to him on a silver platter since birth? Except you - until now, that is.

Because Satoru’s swatting thighs back open like it was a mere inconvenience, and feel your cunt clench in- fear? Anticipation? as you realize how gently he was throwing you around like a ragdoll, in comparison to that door from earlier. 

“No.” he sounds absolutely wrecked, babbling around your throbbing clit. “Need this- need you.”

And then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, so greedily that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Drinking in your pretty gasps of his name as he roams for that one spot he knows will have you seeing stars - only the best for his girl, right? The only thing on his mind right now, like a predator starved.

You can only tug on his hair and buck wildly underneath him, inching Satoru closer to where he was desperately searching for. Close - so close. 

“Toru-” you moan, like a prayer. 

But it wasn’t fast enough. 

Not for Satoru, at least.

Even through the haze in your eyes, you could make out that brief flash of electric blue in-between your legs, eyes widening as ah-

That cheat. 

You wondered if he even knew he was using his powers right now. Or whether Satoru was too far gone at this point. Way too smug with the way he hits that one spot. Hard. 

Ah, you quiver as something so dark sparks in his eyes. Looking like a man starved, that had finally come across his favorite meal. Moving with frightening accuracy as he pumps his fingers in and out, hitting it each and every time. 

“Shit, ngh-” you let out a shrill moan, “It’s too good. You’re so fucking-” 

One hand was so messy toying with your dripping entrance - the other digging into your hips. Dragging your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. 

Hard enough that you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. If you even made it that long, that is, if the tiny shocks of electricity at his fingertips told you anything. 

Desperate. Violent, even.

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. “Fuck- m’cumming m’cumming, fuck fuck fuck-” You’re shaking as you cum, crying out Satoru’s name and delirious little moans that you’d otherwise be embarrassed of. 

And he doesn’t stop. Not when you’re blinking your vision back. Not when you’re shying away from his tongue, the stars behind your eyes too much with each flick of his tongue. 

“S’too much- too- fuck, sensitive, Toru.” you whine, big fat tears clinging to your lashes. 

Ah, there it was again. Just when Satoru was beginning to think that he might just be veering into a state of mind that could be considered sane - you have to call him that goddamn nickname again. And it’s only driving him wild. 

Well, he muses, fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt, it’s really on you then. 

You let out a fucked-out little whine as Satoru finally takes his shirt off, revealing such milky, toned skin. All sharp curves and dips like he was sculpted so meticulously, going down, down, down and- Your breath hitches at the large, pink scar standing out of his torso, so uneven and fresh that you feel a fresh wave of tears - different ones, this time. 

You take a steadying breath, eyes unmoving from the injury. “Satoru-”

“No.” Satoru’s tone is firm, so different from the metallic tinkling of his belt. He was moving now, shifting in between your legs to kiss those tears away. “Need this. Need you. Need you need you need you so bad-”

“But your…” you trail off. The words catch in your throat as he finally unbuckles his belt, pulling down his pants just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, soaked in precum. 

He was so…massive. Now, you expected your best friend to have a big dick, but this was ridiculous. He was so intimidatingly long, thick enough that you could feel the slick beading out of your sloppy hole already.

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive. 

Satoru sees it too, of course, because his cock twitches furiously. A low hiss leaving those pretty pink lips before he’s spitting on your quivering cunt. Once. Twice. 

And you know that if this shameless bastard could use six eyes to find your g-spot, then he could’ve done the same for this. But, no, he lets some of it miss, splattering against your inner thigh, smearing all over as Satoru thumbs in his saliva with your slick. 

God, he was treating you like some object. Wordlessly throwing your legs over his shoulders, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy. 

And then you feel like you’re been split apart - because Gojo Satoru was unforgiving. As was his aching cock. He’s barely even pressing through the first ring of muscle, and you already feel like he’s pushing all the way into your lungs. 

“T-Toru.” you yelp, glancing down at the way your pussy was stretched so lewdly around his thick cock. Quivering as he keeps pushing and pushing and- no mercy. Absolutely none at all. “Can feel you so deep inside ngh- I don’t think I can…” 

“No no no no no-” he’s panting into your open mouth. Fucking into your heavenly cunt in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to squeeze deeper inside. “Need this. Want this. Always did. God, fuck fuck fuck, you can do it-”

“But-”

God, Satoru can’t help but kiss you - to shut those cute lil’ whines up more than anything, he’s sure he’ll cum right there and right now if he didn’t. 

Because Satoru wasn’t any better. Body bowing into yours, eyes rolling to the back of his head, mouth falling into a delirious oh! as he finally bottoms out. Balls smacking your ass too hard, your pussy too tight, you too beautiful underneath him. 

Blindly, he reaches for the headboard - white-knuckling it so hard that it’s a wonder it doesn’t break. 

It does - and later you’ll find a pile of splinters behind the bed. It’s just that neither of you notice. Too high off the feeling of Satoru’s cock pushing inside you. You’re clawing at his back now, gasping for air. Letting him fold you in half to filthily lick away the tears pooling at your cheeks. 

“Shit- y’got this, my love. You gotta- ah- Breathe-” he can’t even speak properly, sharp tongue so heavy. Eyes glowing with such insanity as he rocks his hips harder into yours.

He was right - you needed to breathe. To finally wrap your head around the fact that this was Satoru - your best friend - the same one that binge-watches sappy rom-coms with you after every breakup. Every. Single. One. Somehow, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point. And he was out of control now.

Funny, how in all his dreams when you were screaming his name - Satoru was always suave, methodical, playing with your pretty pussy like a fine instrument. Right now, he was anything but. Sloppy - like he didn’t have enough time, never would, even in this room where time slowed.

“Don’t you run away.” he grunts at the way you’re so adorably torn between running away from his cock and bucking for more more more- “Waited twelve fucking years for this. N’ m’gonna take it.”

You almost sob at the pressure as he laces his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper. Down, down, down. “S’too good, Toru. Wan’ more-”

“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. Eyes widening almost comically, a fucked-out smile spreading all over his face. “Y’want more even when you’re filled to-” He traces an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “Here?”

“Yes.” you gasp as he reaches down to toy with your throbbing clit, drawing tight, frenzied little circles. Balls smacking your ass so painfully, thumb pressing down right where his tip was hitting your cervix - as if he used six eyes to see. “Always wanted more. Always have, Toru.”

And you swear you could see something physically snap inside Satoru. Because his eyes glaze over, grin dropping instantly from his face. 

If you weren’t so cockdrunk maybe you’d have caught the way the bedroom lights flicker, the one down the hallway bursting. 

“Always, huh?” he’s muttering, grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Wanted more like me?” Rocking into you so sloppily, cock twitching so painfully as he speeds up. Fingers just as desperate - as depraved as his hips.

And this time, he doesn’t even have to use six eyes to find that one spot. Knowing your body well enough to hit it over and over until you were sobbing. “More more more more- fuckin’ take it then.”

At this point you didn’t know whether Satoru was always this ruthless in bed or you’d just broken him. It felt so good that it was almost scary. And your delirious mind wandered into the thought that maybe the bed would break - and your bones to follow. 

Well, they would have if Satoru hadn’t been using reversed cursed technique. But you didn’t need to know that just yet. 

“Satoru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic.  “I’m…”

“Close?” Satoru’s grunting, smacking his lips against your own.

It’s laughable, really, that muffled question - because Satoru knew you were close. Losing his fucking mind, actually, at how you were squeezing so hard around him. Balls squeezing so painfully right now, but he wanted you to cum first - needed you to cum first.

“Yeah, so close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”

“Then cum. Fucking cum, wan’ed this so bad.” he’s babbling deliriously. Little sparks of lightning visible even to your glassy eyes, fingers humming with a dangerous little energy that stimulated you so good. “Yeah, yeah yeah yeah fucking cum, wanna hngh-”

And then you are. So sudden and hard that you don’t even realize it at first. Just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Rocking your hips into Satoru’s like such a slut. 

Oh, if heaven was really then the part of Satoru that can still form coherent thoughts thinks this just might be it. 

Because only the sight of you creaming all around his swollen cock and he’s cumming and cumming so hard that it hurts. Thick, hot ropes of cum that he can’t seem to stop. Doesn’t want to stop, and God he thinks he could cum until you beg and beg and beg it’s too much. Until you’re yelling for-

“Mercy!” you moan, head spinning with how fucking overfilled your pussy was. “Please, Toru-”

Satoru lets out a slight gasp, “Mercy?” Chuckling so cruelly at your dazed nod, “No mercy, my love. None at all.”

And God, it was so fucking hard to look at him too - eyes half-lidded and miles away, flushed and looking like he was anywhere but laid out on a hospital bed just a few minutes ago. In fact, Satoru looked like he was in heaven on Earth as he only milked his painfully hard cock on your snug pussy.

Pretty. Always so fucking pretty. 

And he kept whispering that, over and over in your ear as you both ride out your highs. Oh how he loved you.

Your eyes fly open, and Satoru knew he’d said that out loud. Shit. But, well, with the way you were immediately pulling him to collapse into your arms, he thinks he really doesn’t mind.

“Love you, love you. Love you so much. Always did, always wanted to love you- to fuck you.” You barely even notice him marking down your neck, sharp canines digging into the flesh like he wanted to break something. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood. “To ruin you.”

It was oozing out of you, both Satoru’s cum - dribbling down your legs in thick globs, pooling on the overpriced sheets below - and his power. Jolts of electricity running down all the way from your poor, abused cunt to your hazy mind. 

“So do it.” The air was crackling - crackling with intensity and the smell of jujutsu. It was in your veins, in your words as you whisper, “Ruin me. You’re the- ngh- only- one f’me, Toru. Always was.”

The lights go out. All of them - all across Tokyo, in fact. Shining so bright that it was blinding, until they burst. The last thing you see are his eyes - electrified with blue lightning, burning into your brain. 

And then it’s black. 

---

“I’ll be back before ya know it, my love.” he whispers against your forehead, cooing at the way you stir sleepily. “Gotta pest to take care of.”

Taking down that curtain wasn’t the hard part, the hard part was actually fucking regaining his senses enough to do so. 

And now, all cleaned up and fucked to sleep on his bed, you were looking so unbearably delectable that it made some part of Satoru just want to stay behind this curtain. To forget the waiting sorcerers on the battlefield. Saving the world be damned.

Well, no matter, Satoru had time. He was the strongest, right? After all, how could he give you the world if there was no world to give?

“N’ when I’m back, m’gonna kiss ya to death till you go out with me. Till everyone knows you’re unmistakably mine.”

A/N. GET IT - that unmistakable bit from the panel? 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[nanaslutt]

nanami overstimulating himself to make sure his pretty gf gets off >.<

minors and ageless blogs dni

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ ࿔

telling nanami “don’t stop” when he’s fucking you because youre sooo close, but he’s at his limit. he tries to relax his kegels so he lasts longer but he can’t help it, it feels too good and you’re so tight around him as you’re working up to your orgasm he can’t help but cum inside you

he keeps fucking you though his orgasm, teeth gritted and eyes rolling back in his head. all he wants to do is freeze up and let his body jerk and flex and he fills you up, but he can’t just leave you unsatisfied. it’s taking everything in him not to stop thrusting, his groans are so loud in your ears.

he abruptly pulls you on top of him and bounces you in his lap, his legs are shaking from overstimulation but he needs you to get there. “use me, make yourself come on me sweetheart.” his words are rushed and breathy, but he manages to get them out. you place your hands on his chest and slow your bouncing, feeling his come start to drip out of you.

“but you already came, ken.” you reason, your voice just as ruined as his as he helps you rock your hips back and forth on his pelvis. his cock is twitching, and his abs are spamming from overstimulation. every atom in his body is telling him to stop fucking you because it’s too much, it feels too good it hurts, but he can’t leave you hanging.

“i know, finish yourself off. don’t worry about me, I can take it.” and take it he does. you start bouncing on his lap and nanami has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from crying out. his tip is so sensitive and you keep thrusting it right against your sweet spot, it’s making him dizzy.

nananmi’s thighs are pressed together to tight, his legs are nearly crossing as his body tries to excape from the painful pleasure, but he grunts and breaths through it. he’s already hard again, forced to get up from your warm walls fucking him and sucking him in. it doesn’t help that you’re so much wetter from his orgasm now, it’s so fucking much tears well in his eyes.

“kento, kento.” you cry, and nanami nods, biting his lip as he forces his eyes open to find your clit with his thumb. he rubs quick, sloppy circles against the little bud, his body shaking and jerking when he feels your walls tighten around him. “come, come honey, f-fuck.” he doesn’t curse a lot during sex, but this called for it.

the second he feels you orgasm around him, his balls draw up and he’s cumming too. his back arches and he wraps his arms around you, keeping you flush against him and still while he fills you up. his eyes are crossed and he swears he’s seeing stars behind his eyes from his hard he’s cumming.

“don’t move.” he grunts in your ear, his sensitive cock twitching with his aftershocks against your walls. if you moved again he would pass out, his tip is probably so red it’s going to ache when he pulls it out of you. “don’t move until… until i tell you to.” he grunts out, biting his lip as he feels his cum overflow from your pussy and drip down his dick.

[luviisabella]

Bakugo is perfect for cuddling. Why? Cause he’s big and he’s warm.

I don’t mean just big cause he’s tall, I mean muscle, he’s a pro-hero after all, he’s gotta stay fit. So it wasn’t unusual for you to see his biceps practically ripping every atom of his compression shirt when he’d go out to the gym.

Despite coming back all sweaty the first thing he likes to do is lay on you and now convince you his germs have passed onto you so he has an excuse to shower with you. From there you guys find your way to your shared bed and cuddle. His muscles caging you in, his large calloused hands wrapped around your figure, and he couldn’t be happier. He keeps you warm too, thanks to his quirk his body is always warm/hot. (Thanks to this he also usually walks around shirtless.)

So it’s not uncommon for him to place his hands under your shirt, resting them gently along your sides as he uses just the right amount of heat to warm up his hands a bit. Usually he does it when you have cramps, he’ll have you lay your back to his chest and keep his hands on your lower abdomen while you rest. Such a good boyfriend.

“Cmere”

There’s no point in him saying that when he’s already got you thrown over his shoulder, taking you off the couch as if you weren’t peacefully reading.

“Kats-“ you can’t help but giggle, seeing he’s in one of his lovesick moods.

He gently places you on the bed before climbing on top of you, his head resting on your chest gently as you find your hand in his.

You smile seeing him find relaxation in your touch.

“I love you katsuki.”

His hand warms up a bit and you can see his ears turn a little pink.

—

“I love you too.”

[nightingale-prompts]

Phantom is so Moody-DCxDP prompt

"I don't even understand what I am. I'm a clone so I can't age. But what does it even mean to be a clone? I'm not 100% Superman but I'm still nit like him or Lex? I wasn't born like a normal person so does that mean I don't have a soul?" Kon ranted.

Danny the multi-dimensional godlike being the team had contracted into being their aid slowly shuffled from under his mountain of blankets and pillows and yawned.

"What are you talking about?" He drawled lazily. "Of course you have a soul.

"But I'm like artificially made in a lab." Kon retorted.

"And? So what? Are you telling me I'm wrong?" Danny challenged " Hey stupid, everything has a soul. You, your friends, animals, a tree, a fucking blade of grass, even a kid's toy. If it has energy it has a soul. I'm not talking metaphorically, I mean literally. Souls are a real tangible thing and I will eat your soul if you don't put some food on my sacrificial altar. Also, get therapy."

Kon much like the others had gotten used to Danny. He was mostly all bark and no bite.

As Kon headed to the kitchen to get the god his post-nap snack he heard Danny speak again.

"Also, you can age. Who told you that you couldn't? Age isn't anything but the slow decay of atoms. You are aging. You just aren't changing because your body is so new. Given enough years it'll start to show. Then you'll be no different from anyone else. Granted Superman's race also grows differently. You are so fucking dramatic. You are fine the way you are." The godling huffed, "Ancients, you guys are annoying. You treat existence like it's torture and you'll bearly understand how blessed you are to exist simply because of how un-ideal it is. Look shit sucks, it sucks most of the time but human suffering is caused by humans. You are torturing yourself with all these what-ifs and angst. Just stop caring."

Danny wasn't saying all this to be comforting. He rarely does stuff like that. If anything he was ambivalent to Kon. It still made him feel better though. One thing you could trust about Danny was that he was honest. He could even be helpful considering his job was to be a living encyclopedia of information from beyond the pale. He has always been an asset if you can wake him up from his days long naps.

****

"You sleep all the time." Raven complained.

The Titans were here this time. They needed something from Danny. Something about having to seal a threat away.

"Just death being shy." Danny mumbled curling up on his raised platform. "Now go away."

Raven pulled out a smudge stick of white sage when Nightwing silently held up a hand to stop her.

"Phantom, look we need your help. This issue needs your assistance. We just want info on how to seal this threat properly." Nightwing said.

"Ask Constantine."Danny whined back as he shuffled deeper into his blanket cocoon.

"Unfortunately he can't help. This is Darkseid—"

"WHERE IS HE?"

Immediately he was wide awake. You see there are few things to stir Phantom to his full attention. He isn't inactive out of pure laziness. He lets the hero do their thing and he helps when he thinks it's appropriate. But he will not let anything or anyone harm the planet

*****

"He really doesn't like people," Impulse whispered to Aqualad.

"I still don't understand how the Justice League managed to get in contact with him let alone sign a contract with him. " Aqualad answered.

"Flash said he was pretty easy to convince. Hell he said that Phantom was so docile he let Wonder Woman carry him around. Now he'll practically snap of your hand if you touch him."

"Emm...think about it he must have just been really weak back then. If he was injured badly enough maybe he—"

"Stop talking."

*****

"I still don't trust you. What is your game?" Raven said sternly.

A being with origins like Phantom couldn't really be helping them out of the kindness of his heart. What did he gain from this contract.

"You assume you are worth games."

"Were you sent by my father?"

"Your father, Trigon? That nuisance? A petty demon like that having any say over me? I'd crush him if I ever saw him. He claims to have conquered a billion worlds. That alone makes me want to destroy him. No one OWNS a world. If anything I own all worlds. No one touches my universe, all universes are mine. And if people would just stop touching my stuff I wouldn't be here." Phantom growled furiously.

"So you are just like him." Raven hissed in anger.

"Like I said. I own it. It is my domain. My realm. So no one can destroy it. No one can control it. I make it. Every star, every planet, every person is a product of chaos. It is the universal law. I keep my chaos in check. Trigon, Darkseid, Anti-Monitor—I don't care. If they touch what is mine I will destroy them."

"Anti-Monitor?"

Phantom curled his lip in anger then relaxed.

"He is someone you don't need to be concerned about. Not anymore." Phantom sighed. "Just know; I don't care what you think of me. I only care about keeping things the way they should be. I'd prefer if you didn't trust me."

Raven narrowed her eyes in thought before she relaxed. Then a small smile appeared on her lips.

"No. I think I can trust you."

Phantom immediately frowned. This wasn't the response he wanted.

"I think you are doing this on purpose. I think you want us to dislike you." Raven teased "Phantom do you perhaps have a heart?"

Phantom just sighed, his cheeks were greenish hue. He was blushing. Then went back to his dais to sleep.

****

Phantom was certainly a prickly guy. He was sweet deep down. Everyone could tell after a while. It didn't help that Wonder Woman always gave as good as she got.

"Answer the question Phantom. No cryptic riddles either." She said climbing the dias.

Phantom scrambled to escape as she grabbed him by the ankle and held him upside down.

"That's not fair! Kronos said I didn't have to answer this one. I have permission to tell you wherever I feel like."

"Oh? Then how about not having snacks on your offering plate? We'll burn nothing but vegetables until you tell me."

"How dare you! That's child abuse. You'll be starving me."

"You don't even need to eat."

"I still taste everything you burn. That's force-feeding. That's bad too."

"Just tell me!"

"Fine!" Phantom grumbled "Trevor Barnes...didn't pass over yet. He waits for you in the realms between. You shouldn't know that though. He doesn't want you to know."

"Why wouldn't he—"

"Because he wants you to live for yourself. He wants you to love again. You have a long life ahead of you and he didn't want to hold you back with his memory. Although he contradicted himself because he still wants you to think of him fondly."

Phantom phased through Diana's grasp and retreated to his lair.

****

Phantom was like a stray cat or maybe a spoiled one. He was wary of most people.

But even the most moody cat likes at least one person.

"Phantom I—"

"What do you need?"

Tim had entered the chamber only half expecting Phantom to be awake. Though Phantom was always awake when Tim entered. He guessed he was lucky since he didn't have talk to empty space.

"Eh, nothing. I got put on sacrifice duty. I brought some Bat Burger and cookies from home. I'm warning you now that Wonder Woman said you have to eat a serving of vegetables. So I'm burning them first." Tim placed the steamed vegetables on the offering plate and before he tossed them into the green fire he felt the cold hand of Phantom wrap around him.

"Don't." He said softly.

"It's just broccoli and cauliflower," Tim said still putting it on the electrum disk.

"Don't wanna," Phantom whined petulantly holding Tim in place. His head buried in his shoulder.

"You big baby." Tim sighed.

If anyone saw this interaction they'd be disgusted. The oh-so-great and moody god is l acting like a soft and pitiful little guy. Phantom seemed to have such a unique fascination with Red Robin. To the point he acts completely different if Tim was in the room.

"Two-faced." Kon mumbled as he watched Phantom readily answered Red Robin's every question without complaint.

"He's always like that," Tim said afterward " It's probably because I was the one to help form the contract with him when he was summoned here. The League treated him like a threat when it wasn't his fault he was here. He just wants to keep his distance but he is the same age as us."

"He is?" Kon asked astonished.

[so-many-ocs]

practical writing advice

part 2

avoid writing in bed if you can. writing in bed is the mind-killer. writing in bed is the little death that brings obliteration. you may think "but i can write AND be cozy" you will get sleepy so fast. 98% of the time when i try to get a nighttime writing session done in bed i go to sleep. maybe 70% of the time if it's an afternoon writing session. also it fucking kills your wrists.

STRETCH before writing. stretch as many parts of your body as possible ESPECIALLY YOUR WRISTS! i have chronic tendonitis in both of my arms from not doing this and it is manageable but it is Not Fun!

plug your phone in on the other side of the room. better yet, plug it in and leave it in another room. better yet, power it off and leave it in another room. "i'll just check one quick thing" do not underestimate the power of the doomscroll.

do a warmup. look up writing prompts (i like one-word prompts or prompts that focus on a general theme as it's easier to integrate into my writing style), set a timer for fifteen minutes, or ten, or five, and go ham. make it shitty or incomprehensible, as long as you make it. create a dump document for all your warmups. i currently have two novels in the works that started as one of these fifteen minute little warmups.

pick your background noise ahead of time if you use it, and look for something long. i listen to 3-hour-long silent hill ambient mixes on youtube dot com.

take breaks. around every 45 minutes, as i'm noticing myself begin to lose focus, i get up, grab a drink, get my blood flowing, and give myself some space to breathe.

sometimes i sit down to write and i think "every atom in my body is averse to doing this right now. i would rather dance barefoot on a bed of nails than open my laptop and start typing." and you know what i do? i go do something else instead. don't force it! it will become a chore.

that being said! write as often as possible. try to write every day. try to write at the same time. don't beat yourself up if you can’t, BUT the more often you write, the more often you'll want to write.

if you're stuck on a scene or a page or a chapter, go back to the last place where you felt like you knew what you were doing and start writing from there. keep a copy of your other writing in case you want to reuse it or refer back!

i don't know if this is something that will be helpful for other people but i start mentally preparing myself for my writing session a few hours ahead of time. i will say to myself, "today, at this time, i'm gonna sit down and write that scene where mina walks out on her book club, and it's going to be awesome and i'm looking forward to it." then, by the time i actually begin, i basically have the whole thing written out in my head and can just put it down to paper. it's a good way to at least kickstart the session !

ok thanks bye

[tizeline]

TSAU Season 1 Finale - Part 1

It's about damn time I go over the TSAU's version of the remaining season 1 finale, as well as episode 1 of season 2, so HERE WE ARE! I am too lazy to adapt the entire thing into a proper comic, especially considering several plot points remain rather unchanged from canon, so we're doing whatever this format is instead.

(You should read Cell Talk and Gearing Up before this if you haven't already)

But a quick recap, the Gearing Up comic ended with Draxum in the Dark Armour going up to the surface with Mikey to start with the whole conquering humanity thing. Raph and Leo have offically joined Team Good Guys and they, alongside Donnie, Splinter, April, Shelldon and Mayhem went after Draxum to stop his evil plans.

When they make surface, Draxum and Mikey have already started their rampage and are just kinda wrecking the baseball stadium. The Foot are also at the stadium, clearly still expecting The Shredder to show up or something. Team Good Guys (yes that's their name now) figure it's probably good to try to get whatever info about the Dark Armour they can so April and Mayhem teleport to where The Foot are to try to gather some intel that might help them in the fight against Draxum.

Meanwhile, the others start fighting Draxum and Mikey. Draxum is low-key kinda baffled that Raph just straight up switched teams lmao. Leo is one thing, but Raph has always been so loyal and responsible so it's real suprising that he's completely disobeying orders. None of the Draxum family members are really enthusiastic about fighting each other (except maybe Mikey he's kinda pissed at this point) but they engage in battle anyway. Donnie, Shelldon and Splinter are less hesitant about kicking Draxum's ass and don't really hold their punches lmao. Despite that they're kinda struggling considering both Drax and Mikey are so strong, but that's when April and Mayhem teleport back with that useful intel!

What April learned from her intel-gathering is that The Foot think there is some kind of flaw with the armour, like in canon, you know the deal. What differs from canon is exactly how that flaw occured. Turns out that Donnie when he was younger got a little bit carried away with giving Shelldon cool powerful weapons and Shelldon enced up accidentally shooting up the teapot to smithereens, oopsie! Donnie managed to reassembe it before Splinter saw, but with one of the pieces having gone missing he had to sacrifice his Atomic Lass figurine to plug up the final hole (he's still upset about that to this day btw). BUT POINT IS, like in canon this means that the armour has a obvious weakpoint and if they hit that it might be enough to knock Draxum out of the armour!

You know what happens next, they resume the fighting with this new strategy in mind and eventually they manage to get a lucky hit in and as predicted knocking out the Atomic Lass toy causes Draxum to get knocked out as well. Except YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS and you know it's not quite that easy. Lo and behold, the Atomic Lass figurine was the last thing keeping The Shredder from being resurrected, so now that it's gone? Yeah, the Dark Armour is finally completed, it slurps Draxum's life-force or whatever and then spits him out.

The Shredder is back.

... Except not entirely of course, like in canon he's acting like a wild animal attacking anything that moves, but regardless it's still a new threat they have to deal with. With Draxum being so hurt, Leo makes the decision to portal him back home, and to also send Mikey with him. Both because Draxum probably needs someone to look after him and also Leo doesn't really wanna deal with Mikey's attitude at the moment with everything else going on lmao.

From here on out the battle against Shredder begins. This too goes mostly the same way as in canon, Shredder kinda kicks all of their asses before suddenly teleporting away, and then that song and dance repeats a couple of times before Team Good Guys figure they need a better strategy. Splinter brings up how Big Mama would probably have a way to subdue Shredder, only problem is that it's BIG MAMA and he does NOT wanna go anywhere close to her. In canon Leo brought Splinter with him to BM anyway, but in the AU he kinda respects Splinter, or rather Lou Jitsu, too much to force him to come along. Instead Leo decides he and Raph will go to BM for help, while the others keep Shredder from completely wrecking New York.

The rest of the finale continues in Part 2!

[shy9-29]

Do You Ever Shut Up? [s.jy]

pairing - yapper jake x listener reader

“He talked, and I listened—quietly, sometimes frustrated, but always intrigued. It was never about the homework anymore, never about the noise. It was about the quiet moments in between, the ones where I started to realize that maybe, just maybe, the noise was exactly what I needed.”

wc. 18.1k

genre. fluff, high school sweetheart, introvert x extrovert — pt2

You had just transferred to this school at the start of the semester. New hallways, new faces, and the same routine—keep your head down, focus on your grades, and don’t bother trying to make friends. You weren’t rude or anything, just… disinterested. People were loud, messy, distracting. You had better things to do. Like acing every test handed to you and making teachers double-check your answers because they couldn’t believe how fast you worked through problems most kids couldn’t even start.

Within a few weeks, most of the staff knew your name—in a good way. The quiet, brilliant new kid. They praised your essays, passed your math tests around in the break room, and recommended you for everything from science fairs to tutoring programs. You didn’t mind. The praise meant progress, and progress meant a future far away from classrooms full of loudmouths and group projects.

You especially couldn’t stand people who didn’t know how to shut up. The ones who couldn’t go two seconds without blurting something out, who made every lesson drag twice as long. So when your chemistry teacher pulled you aside and said, “Y/N, I’m pairing you up with someone who could use your help,” you already knew it was going to be a disaster.

And then Jake sat down across from you.

Black hoodie unzipped just enough to show the edge of a white tee, black hair falling into his eyes, skin fair and clear like he actually cared about skincare or just had the genetics for it. His baggy jeans hung low on his hips, casual in that effortless kind of way. He looked like the kind of guy who never tried too hard but somehow still caught everyone’s attention.

“Yo! You must be Y/N, right? Man, they really gave me the quietest-looking tutor ever,” he said with a laugh, plopping into the chair across from you like he owned the place. “This is chemistry, right? Honestly, I don’t even remember what we’re learning. Something with… atoms? Explosions?”

You blinked.

Once.

Twice.

He was loud. Way too loud. And friendly. Way too annoying. The kind of guy who talked like you’d known each other for years when you hadn’t even said hi yet. In your head, you were already calculating how many deep breaths it would take to survive the hour without snapping.

This had to be a joke.

Twelve years of school, and somehow your final year—the one that was supposed to be quiet, focused, flawless—had thrown him at you.

He was still talking. Of course he was. “I mean, I sorta remember something about covalent bonds? Or is that the one with sharing? I swear I passed the last test by, like, one percent.” He laughed again, leaning back in his chair like this was some kind of social hour instead of a tutoring session.

You stared at him, silently willing your annoyance to show through your expression. But either he didn’t get the hint… or he just didn’t care.

Jake.

You’d heard of him before today—impossible not to. Not necessarily popular, but everyone knew him. Loud in class, always chiming in with a joke, borderline annoying but weirdly charming in a way that made teachers sigh instead of scream. The kind of guy who never seemed to study, never seemed to worry, and still managed to scrape by.

The exact kind of person you hated working with.

He leaned forward suddenly, elbows on the table, eyes lit up like this was fun for him. “Okay, so, where do we start? You gonna explain it to me like I’m five or are we jumping into full nerd mode?”

You blinked again. “Do you always talk this much?”

He grinned like you’d just complimented him. “Oh yeah. It’s kind of my thing.”

You exhaled slowly, already regretting every life choice that led to this moment. “Great.”

He didn’t seem fazed. In fact, he looked amused. Like your irritation just made you more interesting.

This was going to be a long semester.

The tutoring session had barely started, and already Jake was more interested in you than the worksheet in front of him.

“So, Y/N,” he said, tapping his pen against the desk in a rhythmic, mildly irritating beat. “What kind of music are you into? Wait—lemme guess. Lo-fi? Or classical? You give off major ‘I study with rain sounds’ energy.”

You didn’t look up from your notebook. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Okay, so I was close,” he grinned, like he’d won something. “Rain sounds it is.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to focus on drawing out the molecular structure of ethane, but he wasn’t done. Not even close.

He tilted his head a little, eyes narrowing like he was trying to solve a mystery. “Do you always study alone? Or do you have, like, a secret group of brainiac friends who meet in libraries and whisper about grades?”

You gave him a look over the top of your notebook. “No.”

“Not very talkative, huh?” he said, more curious than offended. “That’s cool. Mysterious. Bet you’ve got a whole double life outside school.”

You sighed. “Do you want to pass chemistry or not?”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright! I’m focused now.” A beat passed. “Wait—do you play any sports?”

You didn’t answer right away. He wasn’t asking anything personal exactly, just… personal enough. Stuff people asked when they wanted to know you. Not your grades. You.

“No,” you said flatly. “I don’t do teams.”

Jake nodded like that somehow made perfect sense. “Yeah, I get that. You seem more like a solo mission kind of person. Like a main character in one of those moody indie movies.”

You blinked. “Are you always like this?”

He laughed. “Pretty much. My brain doesn’t know how to shut up. You’ll get used to it.”

You highly doubted that.

Still, somehow… you didn’t tell him to stop.

You weren’t sure how ten minutes had passed and exactly zero chemistry questions had been answered.

Jake was now fiddling with a paperclip he found on the desk, bending it into what looked like a crooked star. “So, do you like this school better than your old one?” he asked, voice casual, like you were old friends catching up instead of two almost-strangers stuck in a forced partnership.

You glanced up, half expecting the question to be another distraction tactic. But he looked genuinely curious.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, turning your attention back to the worksheet.

He nodded like you’d just shared a whole monologue. “Yeah, I mean, this place kinda sucks, but in like, a tolerable way. The food’s trash, the lockers jam half the time, and the Wi-Fi dies when you actually need it. But hey, the vending machines are alright.”

You didn’t laugh, but the corner of your mouth twitched. A tiny twitch. You prayed he didn’t see it.

Unfortunately, he did.

“Was that a smile? That totally was! Oh my god, I made the quiet genius smile. This is going in my personal highlight reel.”

You rolled your eyes, flipping the page in your notebook harder than necessary. “Can we please focus?”

Jake leaned in, resting his chin on his hand like he had all the time in the world. “Sure, yeah. But just so you know, I’m gonna crack you eventually.”

You blinked at him. “Crack me?”

He grinned. “Get to know you. Make you laugh. You’ve got this whole silent, no-nonsense vibe going, but I bet there’s a cool person hiding under all that academic intensity.”

You didn’t respond. Not because he was wrong—but because, annoyingly, some part of you wondered if he might be right.

Still, you picked up your pen and pointed at the question on the sheet. “What’s the difference between ionic and covalent bonds?”

Jake groaned dramatically, slumping over the desk like you’d just asked him to run a marathon. “Ugh, fine. But I better get, like, one fun fact about you after this.”

You ignored that part. Or at least, you tried to. But your ears felt a little warmer than before.

By the time the clock hit the hour mark, you had managed to get through maybe—maybe—three questions. And even those had taken way longer than they should have, mostly because Jake kept pausing mid-sentence to tell you a random story or ask if pineapple belonged on pizza. (You never gave him a real answer. He took your silence as a “yes.”)

“Same time tomorrow, right?” he asked as he packed up, slinging his backpack over one shoulder like he hadn’t just wasted your entire afternoon. You nodded stiffly, jaw tight. “Yeah.”

“Cool. I’ll bring snacks,” he grinned, already halfway out the door before you could say anything else. “See you then, study buddy!” You didn’t even bother correcting him.

The second he was gone, you slumped back in your chair and let out a frustrated sigh, pressing your fingers to your temples. Your notes were still open, your pen untouched for the last twenty minutes, and your patience? Gone. Absolutely gone.

By the time you got home, you were still stewing. You tossed your bag on your desk with more force than necessary, scowling to yourself as you replayed the entire hour in your head. He’d asked you more questions about your favorite movies and weirdest pet peeves than he had about covalent bonds. He was loud, distracting, borderline infuriating—and worst of all, he didn’t even seem to realize how much he got under your skin. You sat down, pulled out your notebook again, and started rewriting everything you should’ve covered today. Alone. In peace. Like usual. And yet…

You found yourself thinking about that stupid crooked paperclip star he left on the table. And the way he looked so proud when he caught you almost smiling.

Ugh. You hated people like him. Didn’t you?

The next day, you threw your hair up into a bun—more out of practicality than style—and tugged on a soft, oversized knit sweater that hung slightly off one shoulder. Paired with your usual jean shorts and worn sneakers, you looked effortlessly casual, though you hadn’t really meant to. You didn’t care what people thought. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

You hadn’t expected to see Jake until your tutoring session later, but the universe clearly hated you because there he was—again—in second period English, slouched in the seat two rows over. You tried to ignore him. You really did.

But then, about halfway through the class, you felt eyes on you. You glanced up, and sure enough, Jake was looking straight at you with a grin like he’d just remembered something funny. And then he waved. Your brows drew together. He wasn’t subtle—he never was—so a few people turned to look, clearly wondering what the hell that was about. You quickly looked back down at your notes, pretending not to notice, pretending your face wasn’t getting warm.

After class, you were barely out the door before you heard, “Y/N! Wait up!”

You turned, only out of reflex, and there he was, weaving through the crowd toward you, beaming like you were best friends.

“You in chem next?” he asked, like it was normal for him to talk to you in the middle of the hallway with people watching. “I was gonna see if you could explain that thing again—the molecule stuff? I was kind of half-listening yesterday. Which, honestly, is a win for me.”

You blinked at him. “We’re not even in the same chem class.”

He laughed. “Yeah, but I still need to pass it. Don’t judge me for multitasking.”

You were about to reply—maybe with a sarcastic comment, maybe just a noise of disapproval—when his friends called out from a few feet away.

“Jake!” Sunoo shouted, brows raised. He and Jay were standing by the lockers, both staring like they’d just seen a ghost. “What are you doing?”

Jake looked back at them, then to you. “I’ll catch you later, alright?” he said, completely unfazed by the attention. “Same time after school?”

You nodded slowly, still confused, still unsure what dimension you’d woken up in.

Jake jogged back over to his friends, who immediately pulled him into some kind of half-hushed interrogation. You couldn’t hear every word, but you caught Sunoo whisper-shouting, “Since when do you talk to Y/N?” and Jay glancing back at you like you were the weird one in this situation.

You rolled your eyes and kept walking.

Let them be confused.

You were still trying to figure it out, too.

You spent the rest of the day trying not to think about Jake. Which, naturally, meant he was all you could think about.

Every time you passed him in the hallway, he either nodded at you like some inside-joke was forming between you two, or—worse—smiled. And not the fake, polite kind. The full-face, toothy, dimpled kind that made people stop and stare because Jake never smiled at just anyone like that. You hated how it stuck with you. Like an echo that wouldn’t quit.

By the time the last bell rang and you were back in the tutoring room, you’d rehearsed a dozen ways to tell him to focus this time, to maybe not spend the entire hour talking about his favorite cartoon as a kid or what he thought his “aura color” was.

But of course, the second he walked in, hoodie slouched on his frame, that damn crooked paperclip star in hand, all your frustration shriveled into confused silence.

“You left this yesterday,” he said, dropping it on the desk in front of you like it was important. “Thought maybe you’d want your good luck charm back.”

You stared at it, then at him. “It’s literally a mangled paperclip.” He shrugged, sliding into the seat across from you. “Yeah, but now it’s sentimental.” You shook your head, trying not to let the faintest laugh escape. “Unbelievable.” Jake opened his notebook—shocking—and tapped his pen thoughtfully. “So. Ionic bonds, right? I did not Google them last night, so you’re gonna have to start from zero.” You blinked at him, almost impressed. “You actually opened your notebook.”

He gave you a mock-offended look. “Hey, I’m trying. You’re a tough tutor, but I think I’m learning. Like yesterday—I remembered you don’t like pineapple on pizza.”

You hadn’t even told him that.

He just… noticed.

You should’ve been annoyed. But instead, a small part of you warmed, just a little.

“Okay,” you said finally, flipping to a fresh page. “Let’s try again.” He leaned forward, scribbling something down as you explained. For once, he wasn’t interrupting. Not too much, anyway.

And even though he still talked way too much—and still asked questions like, “Do you think atoms ever get tired of being stuck together?”—you realized something strange.

You didn’t hate it as much as you thought you would.

Fifteen minutes in, and things were actually going… decent. Jake was focused, or focused enough—nodding along as you explained the difference between polar and non-polar covalent bonds, underlining things, even writing a few notes that didn’t look like doodles. You were cautiously optimistic.

But of course, it didn’t last.

He dropped his pen suddenly and groaned, leaning back in his chair like he was in the middle of a full-blown existential crisis.

You stopped mid-sentence. “What now?”

Jake threw his arms up. “Sorry, I just remembered I have to go home tonight and deal with my Gen Alpha little brother, and my soul left my body for a second.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“He’s so annoying,” Jake said dramatically. “Like, actually evil. You know how people say kids are mean? No—this one is a different breed. I think TikTok rewired his brain. He calls me ‘mid.’ Mid, Y/N. Just walks by and says it for no reason. I breathe and he’s like, ‘L ratio, you fell off.’”

You stared at him.

“He’s eight,” he added, like that made it make more sense. “And he told me I ‘dress like an NPC.’ Like, what does that even mean?”

You let out a breath through your nose, fighting the weird urge to smile. “Didn’t you say earlier you don’t care what people think?”

“Yeah, but that’s before I got verbally destroyed by someone who still watches ‘Cocomelon’ on the family iPad.”

You sighed, flipping back to the page you were on. “Focus, Jake.”

“I am focused. I’m just traumatized.”

You gave him a flat look.

He raised his hands. “Alright, alright. Covalent bonds. Sharing electrons. Got it. But if I randomly zone out again, just know I’m mentally preparing for another roast session when I get home.”

You shook your head and turned back to your notes, trying to pretend you weren’t kind of entertained.

Maybe a little more than “kind of.”

It happened every single time.

You’d sit down, ready to tackle the work, and then within minutes, Jake would start talking about anything but the assignment in front of you. One day it was how his favorite cereal was definitely the best, another time he spent twenty minutes describing his latest failed attempt at cooking dinner (which somehow involved burning a frozen pizza).

Every time, he would throw in a comment like, “Oh, this is easy. You’re a genius, Y/N,” or “Don’t worry, I’m totally listening,” and then proceed to get lost in whatever tangent was running through his head that day.

And for a while, you just kept it in. You stayed patient. You focused on the material while he babbled about his brother, his latest argument with his mom, or how one of his friends was “acting weird” (Jake’s words, not yours).

But by the time the sixth session rolled around, you were fed up.

You were in the middle of explaining the difference between ionic and covalent bonds again—again—when Jake started tapping his pencil against the desk. Tap, tap, tap. Then he started humming under his breath. Then he picked up his phone and checked his messages.

You could feel your patience unraveling, thread by thread.

“Jake,” you said, voice calm but strained, “I’m trying to help you here.”

“Mm-hmm,” he mumbled, not even looking up. “Sorry, sorry, I’m paying attention. Keep going.”

You gripped your pen tightly, taking a slow breath before you snapped, “Jake, I don’t know what you see here, but we are not friends. I’m not your personal therapist or your stand-in babysitter, and I’m definitely not here to listen to you talk about your annoying brother for the hundredth time.”

The words came out faster than you expected, a flood of frustration you’d been holding in for weeks. “I don’t care about your cereal preferences or how you totally destroyed your frozen pizza. You want to pass this class? Then focus. Or I’m done helping you. I’m not doing this anymore.”

For the first time in the several weeks of tutoring, Jake went completely silent. His pencil froze in mid-air, and his eyes widened, not in that usual playful way, but in actual surprise.

You didn’t care. You shoved your notebook aside, stood up, and grabbed your bag. “I can’t keep doing this, Jake. It’s exhausting, and I’m honestly tired of being disrespected every time I try to help you.”

He still didn’t say anything.

For a moment, you almost regretted it. Maybe you had been too harsh. But as you turned toward the door, you glanced back at him. He hadn’t moved. He was staring at his desk, eyes focused on something—or maybe nothing at all.

Jake was quiet. For the first time, he wasn’t talking. Not even a comment. Not a joke. Nothing.

Jake sat there for a long moment, his pencil still suspended in mid-air, the usual spark in his eyes completely absent. The silence between you both felt heavy, suffocating, and for the first time since this whole tutoring thing started, you felt the tension shift.

You almost expected him to crack some joke, to brush it off like he always did, but instead, he just… stayed silent. The kind of silence that made your skin prickle, like something was about to change. Something you couldn’t quite control.

For a second, you regretted what you’d said. Maybe you’d gone too far? Maybe you shouldn’t have snapped like that. But then again, maybe he needed to hear it.

You turned back to him, ready to speak, to apologize, maybe, but the words stuck in your throat.

Jake finally dropped his pencil, his fingers running through his hair as he leaned back in his chair. His gaze stayed on the desk, avoiding yours, and his lips pressed into a tight line, like he was holding something back.

“I get it,” he muttered after what felt like an eternity. His voice was different now—no teasing, no playfulness. Just… quiet. “I wasn’t really… taking this seriously, huh?”

You didn’t say anything, unsure if you should respond or just let him process it.

“I didn’t mean to waste your time,” he added, glancing up at you with an expression you didn’t quite recognize. It wasn’t playful, wasn’t cocky. It was genuine. “I guess I just… I don’t know. I thought if I made it more fun, it would be easier. Or maybe I thought I could mess around and still get by like I always do.”

You could feel the frustration and guilt bubbling up inside of you, but you crossed your arms and held your ground. “You can’t keep doing that, Jake. It’s not fair to me, and it’s definitely not fair to you.”

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck like he wasn’t sure what to say next. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, almost under his breath. “I’ll try harder. I just… I guess I got used to things being easy and not, you know, actually working for them.”

You were silent for a moment, watching him closely. For all his noise, his interruptions, and his distractions, this was the first time he seemed to truly care about what was happening in front of him.

“Good,” you said quietly. “Because if you want to pass, really pass, you’re gonna have to start actually trying.”

Jake nodded, his usual grin absent, but there was something softer in his expression now. “Yeah, I get it. I’ll focus. I promise. Just… don’t give up on me, alright?”

You felt a small flicker of something—maybe relief, maybe frustration—pass through you. “I’m not giving up on you. I just need you to show up, Jake. For yourself.”

He met your eyes then, something unspoken passing between you two. And for once, you didn’t have to explain it. He understood.

The next day, you walked into the tutoring room with your usual steady pace, preparing yourself for another round of distractions, interruptions, and Jake’s relentless chatter. You had half-prepared yourself for him to slip back into his old habits—because that’s just who he was. He’d brush off yesterday’s moment and go back to the loud, talkative guy who couldn’t sit still for five minutes. That was what you were expecting.

But when Jake showed up, it was… different.

He was already sitting at the desk when you walked in, his backpack slung over his chair, and he was quiet. You glanced at him, unsure if you were just imagining it. The room felt oddly still, with no humming, no random comments about how you were “definitely the smartest person in the room” or stories about his brother calling him “mid.”

He barely acknowledged you, his eyes focused on the open notebook in front of him, his pen tapping gently against the pages like he was thinking about something. Normally, he would’ve cracked a joke or some random remark about how hard chemistry was—but today, he didn’t.

You paused at the door, looking at him for a moment longer, waiting for him to say something. But nothing came. Not even a greeting.

You sighed, shaking your head as you sat down across from him. “You good?” you asked, trying to break the silence.

Jake’s head lifted, his eyes meeting yours for the first time. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Just… wanted to focus today. If that’s okay.”

For a second, you were thrown off. The change was… unsettling. The room felt quieter than usual. Too quiet.

You took a slow breath, trying to process it, but it wasn’t exactly easy. The constant noise, the banter, the Jake-ness that you’d gotten used to over the last few weeks—it was all gone. Now, he was just there. Quiet.

“Okay,” you said slowly, settling into your chair and trying to ignore the weirdness building up between you two. You picked up your pen, glancing at the worksheet in front of you. “Then let’s get to it.”

And so you did. You went through the material, explaining things like you normally would. Jake didn’t interrupt. He didn’t ask random questions or make jokes. He didn’t even fidget.

He was… listening. Actually listening. Really listening.

You’d thought it would feel like a relief, but instead, it was strange. You weren’t used to this version of Jake—the quiet one. The one who didn’t fill the silence with stories or pointless chatter. The one who was just… present.

It made you feel a little off-balance, unsure of how to act.

You hummed softly under your breath, trying to focus on the lesson without the usual distractions. The silence was deafening in its own way, but somehow, it felt… more comfortable. Even if it wasn’t what you were used to.

Jake looked up at you once, his eyes scanning your face, and you almost thought he was about to say something. But he just… nodded, his hand moving to scribble something in his notebook.

And for the rest of the session, you both worked in an unusual, almost peaceful quiet.

It was only then you realized how much you actually missed his constant noise.

The next day, as you were settling into your usual seat, Jake walked in with his usual easy stride, but this time, there was something different in his expression. It was a mixture of nervousness and excitement that didn’t quite match his usual laid-back energy.

He plopped down across from you and immediately opened his mouth. “Okay, so, random thought. I was thinking I should join an extracurricular.”

You raised an eyebrow, not sure where this was going. “You’re already in, like, five different things.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, but none of them are fun, you know? I need something that actually interests me.” His eyes lit up like he’d just found a hidden treasure. “I think I’m gonna join the debate club.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Debate club?”

“Yeah! I’ve been watching these debates online, and they look so intense. Plus, I bet I could totally crush it. I mean, I talk all the time, so why not make it official?”

You paused, leaning back in your chair. “You do talk a lot, don’t you?”

Jake grinned. “Exactly! It’s the perfect fit.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Well, if you’re serious about it, the debate team’s pretty good. They’re always looking for fresh blood.”

Jake leaned forward, looking a little unsure for the first time. “Yeah, but, uh… I really don’t want to end up being paired up with someone super serious. I need someone who gets it. Someone who won’t just stare at me when I’m trying to argue my point. You know, someone who won’t be super intense about it.”

You blinked. “And you think that’s going to be—?”

He grinned widely. “You. Obviously.”

You froze, caught off guard by his sudden confidence. “What? No way. I’m not gonna be your partner.”

Jake gave you a half-smirk. “Why not? You already know the material, you’re sharp. We could totally own this.”

You shook your head, still not entirely convinced. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We barely survive tutoring sessions without me losing my mind.”

Jake just shrugged, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Come on, it could be fun. I promise I won’t talk your ear off during debates. Maybe.”

You gave him a skeptical look but didn’t say much else, just hoping he’d drop it. You knew Jake—he had a way of pushing until he got what he wanted.

The next day, you walked into the debate club meeting with your usual sense of reluctance. As always, the board at the front of the room had a list of members, paired up for upcoming debates. You moved through the crowd, skimming the names until you saw it.

Your heart sank.

There, in neat black letters, were your names. Right beside each other.

Y/N and Jake.

You froze, your stomach doing a weird flip as you scanned the board again to make sure you weren’t seeing things. No. It was real.

You turned to look at Jake, who was standing a few feet away, his grin wide and completely unapologetic.

“See?” he said, winking at you as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “Told you we’d make a killer team.”

You groaned internally. This was going to be interesting—and not in the good way.

Trying to swallow down your frustration, you looked over at him. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

Jake just shrugged again, that damn grin still plastered on his face. “Well, now we have to do this. Might as well make the best of it, right?”

You stared at him for a long moment before sighing. “I guess.”

And so, with your names officially paired together on the board, you realized that this was going to be a whole new level of chaos you never saw coming.

The day you found out you were paired with Jake for the debate was a mess in itself, but the fact that it happened while you were on your period just made everything a hundred times worse. The usual irritation, the cramps, the exhaustion, and then—Jake—your perpetually loud, always-talking tutoring partner now also your debate team partner? It felt like the universe was conspiring against you.

You were sitting at the debate table with him, the rest of the team already getting into their discussions. You felt a headache coming on, your patience worn thin, and yet you were stuck with Jake, who was so eager about everything and so unbothered by your obvious lack of enthusiasm.

He had this unshakable grin on his face, his usual energy dialed up to an eleven as he enthusiastically listed off arguments for the topic. You could barely focus on anything but the mounting frustration. You could feel your blood simmering as he babbled about points, cutting through everything you wanted to say. You’d gotten the message—he liked to talk. You got it. He liked to talk a lot.

And here you were, forced to sit through it. For the first time, you had no patience left for his unfiltered commentary.

You had tried, at first, to engage—pointing out some key arguments and trying to follow the structure. But Jake wouldn’t let up. He kept interrupting, going off on tangents about how he absolutely knew his point was the best and why the opposition was always going to lose, not realizing he was starting to sound like a broken record.

The anger you’d been keeping inside all day from the stress of it all, the frustration, the lack of sleep—it just built and built.

“Jake,” you said, through clenched teeth, trying to stay calm. “Just focus. We have to make an actual case here.”

He grinned at you, unfazed. “Yeah, but listen, listen—hear me out, we can totally make this point sound better if we—”

You couldn’t even stand the way he kept cutting you off. His voice, his energy—it felt like it was bouncing off every surface of the room, and you were just… done.

So you did the only thing that was left in your power: you shut down.

You kept your eyes on the debate board, nodding absently to everything Jake said, too tired to argue, too angry to even care. The words didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. You let him drone on and on, tuning out every bit of his rambling, just letting his voice wash over you without hearing a single word.

“Y/N, you get me, right?” Jake said, clearly expecting some kind of enthusiastic response. He was waiting for validation, something you were so tired of giving him.

You just nodded, forcing a tight smile. “Yeah, sure.”

His grin only widened, but you couldn’t bring yourself to react. The words felt like they were bouncing off a wall. You just didn’t care.

He rambled about how the opposition would have no chance against their “undefeatable argument” or how his points would totally blow everyone away. And you just sat there, nodding, fighting the urge to snap and scream at him to shut up.

By the time the debate was winding down, you had become the very picture of indifference. Every time Jake threw out a new idea, you just nodded along, your face a mask of calm that belied the tornado of frustration swirling in your mind.

You weren’t going to argue. You weren’t going to get into it. You didn’t have the energy. It was the same as always—Jake talking, you tuning out, and this endless, looping cycle where you did all the work, and he filled the silence with whatever nonsense he thought was important.

When the debate ended and the team moved on, you finally let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Jake slapped you on the back, still grinning.

“That went well, right?” he said, full of excitement.

You nodded again, not trusting yourself to speak without snapping. “Yeah. Sure.”

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the need to defend yourself or argue with him. You had nothing left to give. You just wanted to leave, to go home, curl up with your book and forget that you ever had to share a space with a guy who never stopped talking.

Every single day, Jake never ran out of things to talk about. Not once. He’d start with random observations about the weather, then shift to a story about how he almost got kicked out of his favorite coffee shop because of his constant “misunderstanding” of their rules. Or maybe he’d talk about his old life in Australia, how he missed the beach and how “everything was way less complicated” back there. Then, it would spiral into a tangent about a movie he watched the night before, then his latest argument with his brother, then—somehow—back to chemistry. But the thing was, he never actually focused on the work. Not for long, anyway.

You would sit there, your pen poised over your notes, trying your best to stay focused on the lesson. But it was hard. Jake would say something about how the electrons were “basically like the ‘bad boys’ of atoms” and you’d just stare at him, caught in the ridiculousness of his comparison. Or maybe he’d start talking about how much he hated the new gym teacher, complaining about how strict she was and how he’d “get so much more out of it if she just let him talk a little more.”

And the more he talked, the more you realized you weren’t really paying attention to the chemistry anymore. You were just… listening. Listening to him. Watching the way his eyes sparkled when he was excited about something, how his lips would curl into that mischievous grin whenever he said something he thought was hilarious.

He had this way of making everything seem like an adventure, even the most mundane details. His Australian accent, with just the right amount of smoothness and charm, mixed with his Korean roots, was oddly soothing. It felt like he was always on the verge of cracking a joke, but somehow, it didn’t get annoying. It was just… him.

Somehow, you found yourself unwinding in his presence, even though you should’ve been getting work done. His voice, the way he gestured wildly with his hands when he was making a point, the way his hair fell in just the right way over his forehead—it all made it hard to focus on anything but him.

There were moments when you found yourself completely still, watching him talk, completely lost in his energy. It was like you couldn’t even think of a way to look away. Every word that came out of his mouth felt like it mattered, even if it was nonsense about some random celebrity gossip or how he thought pineapple didn’t belong on pizza (which you didn’t even agree with, but you just nodded along, letting him talk).

But then there were the whispers.

You heard them the first time when you were sitting in the library, working on a group project with Jake nearby. A few girls were gossiping behind you, their voices too low for anyone else to catch but not too quiet for you. “Do you think they’re dating? They’re always together.”

“Yeah, they’re always hanging out. I bet she likes him.”

You didn’t want to react to it. Didn’t want to give any of it attention, but it lingered in the back of your mind. You’d heard things like that before. You and Jake were always together, weren’t you? You tutored him. You were partners in debate. Of course, people would talk. But hearing it out loud, hearing people wonder about something that wasn’t even close to being true—it made you uncomfortable.

But what bothered you even more was how Jake never seemed to notice it. He was always talking, always oblivious, always too busy to hear the gossip that followed you two. And in some way, that made you even more irritated. Maybe he had no idea how much people were watching, how much they were speculating.

Still, you pushed it to the back of your mind. It didn’t matter. You had bigger things to focus on—like your grades, like your future, like everything but Jake and whatever these people thought. But as you stared at him—at the way he leaned in, totally absorbed in some random story about his childhood in Australia, his voice carrying with that same mix of confidence and humor—you couldn’t help but notice how beautiful he really looked.

It wasn’t just that he had the sharp jawline or the way his eyes always glinted when he talked, but it was the way he was so himself. He was loud, he was chaotic, and for some weird reason, it made him kind of irresistible. The way he didn’t try to fit into anyone’s expectations, the way he was always so… unapologetically Jake.

And in that moment, you realized that, for the first time in a long time, you weren’t listening to him talk just because he was your tutoring partner or your debate teammate. You were listening because you wanted to. You were watching him, not just because he was talking, but because you couldn’t stop.

So, as he kept on with his never-ending stories and distractions, you sat there, still. The work in front of you forgotten, your focus entirely on him. You didn’t know what you were thinking or how you’d gotten here, but all you knew was that the longer he talked, the harder it became to look away.

The night before the debate, you sat at your desk, staring at the empty pages in front of you. Your textbooks were open, but your mind was elsewhere—mostly, on how much you hadn’t done. You should’ve been preparing, memorizing points, going over counterarguments, reviewing the outline. But instead, all you did was sit there for hours listening to Jake yap about everything under the sun, from his favorite video games to how he thought the new coffee shop in town was overrated. He’d talk about the dumbest things, and you’d listen, because, well, you couldn’t escape it. The more he talked, the less you cared about the debate material.

The clock ticked by, and you realized, with a sinking feeling, that you were completely unprepared. The debate was tomorrow. Tomorrow.

You rubbed your face with both hands in frustration. You had barely touched the material. It was all just Jake’s voice in your head—his stories, his jokes, his random rants—filling the spaces where your preparation should’ve been. You had nothing. No solid points. No real arguments. Just a head full of Jake.

When the day of the debate finally arrived, you felt like you were walking into a battlefield completely unarmed. You tried to do a last-minute run-through of the main ideas, but it was useless. Every time you tried to focus, you couldn’t help but think about how Jake would be his usual loud, distracting self.

And sure enough, when Jake walked into the room where you were supposed to prep for the debate, he started up immediately. He wasn’t even five seconds in the door before he was talking.

“Yo, did you see the new episode of that show I was telling you about last week? It’s like they finally listened to the fans, you know?” he said, completely oblivious to the anxious look on your face.

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the voice in your head screaming at you to focus. But it didn’t matter. Jake just kept talking. You barely even knew what he was saying anymore. His words were like background noise, a constant hum that made it impossible for you to concentrate.

“Jake!” you snapped, your patience snapping like a brittle twig. “Can you just stop for a minute?! I can’t even think with you yapping like that.”

He blinked, taken aback by the sudden outburst. “Whoa, what’s with the attitude?”

“What’s with your attitude?” you shot back, frustration bleeding into your voice. “I’m stressed, I’m unprepared, and all you do is talk! You’re making it worse. I’m trying to focus, but you won’t let me! I’m behind because of you!” You could feel the anger bubbling up from somewhere deep inside, everything you’d been holding in for so long now pouring out in one sharp burst. “You’re just so… annoying!”

The room fell silent, and you could feel the weight of everyone’s gaze on you. Jake’s eyes widened for the first time, and there was a moment of stillness. He blinked, and then his usual cocky grin was gone. Instead, there was something sharper in his gaze.

“I’m annoying?” he shot back, voice rising for the first time. “What about you, huh? All you do is sit there and act like you’re so perfect, but I’ve been doing everything I can to help, to talk to you—to be your friend—and you barely even try! You don’t even care that I’m here. I’m just trying to help, but you keep acting like I’m the problem!”

For the first time ever, Jake wasn’t the one rambling aimlessly. He was serious, his tone harsh, and it caught you off guard. You opened your mouth to argue, but he wasn’t done.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re not exactly all in either. So yeah, maybe I talk too much, maybe I annoy you—but at least I’m here, at least I’m trying!” His voice had a cutting edge to it. “You act like I’m dragging you down, but you never actually try to keep up. Maybe that’s why we’re behind. You’re never engaged, never focused. You don’t even care about this—you care about being annoyed.”

You were completely stunned into silence. For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped, like everyone was watching a car crash in slow motion. The room was completely still.

Then, from the back of the room, someone muttered, “Oh my God, just kiss already.”

You whipped your head toward the voice, heart pounding in your chest. It was the debate coach, shaking his head with a grin that wasn’t even trying to hide how amused he was by the tension.

A couple of people snickered, others exchanged awkward glances. You and Jake stood there, staring at each other, caught in this strange, new atmosphere that neither of you were quite prepared for. The sudden attention was enough to make your face flush with embarrassment, but it also gave you the clarity you needed. You realized you’d both been playing this ridiculous game for weeks, but now—now it was out in the open. And for once, neither of you could pretend like everything was fine. The cracks were visible.

For a second, you didn’t know what to say. But Jake, with his usual awkward grin, broke the silence.

“Guess we better actually start preparing, huh?” he said, his tone lighter but still laced with that underlying tension. “If we’re gonna be partnered up like this, I mean.”

You nodded, your chest tight, unsure of what to think or say next. “Yeah.”

And with that, the moment passed, but everything had changed. The debate was tomorrow, but now, you were facing something completely different—the lines between frustration, annoyance, and something else were blurrier than ever.

The next day of the debate came and went faster than you expected. You had been so focused on trying to get everything together that you had barely noticed the time passing. Surprisingly, you managed to get through the entire thing without completely falling apart. You were organized, you were prepared—and you had actually done all the work. Jake, true to form, spent most of the time talking about his ideas and rambling off thoughts that barely made sense, but you had managed to rein it in, turning his chatter into something halfway coherent. It felt like the work you’d been avoiding for weeks had come to fruition in a single, intense hour of debate.

Somehow, you won. The team won. And despite Jake’s non-stop talking, despite his distractibility, you pulled it off.

When the results were announced, you tried not to show how much relief flooded your system. You glanced at Jake, who was looking as stunned as you felt. You had done it.

As you walked to your locker afterward, head down, trying to process the fact that you’d somehow survived, you heard hurried footsteps behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Jake’s voice was unmistakable.

“You did it,” he said, breathless, catching up to you with a wide, triumphant grin. “We actually won!”

You couldn’t suppress the small wave of pride that crested in your chest, but you didn’t let it show too much. It was just another task done, another hurdle cleared. You should’ve felt accomplished—but you couldn’t shake off the nagging feeling that everything was just a bit too chaotic.

Jake, however, was absolutely beaming, his eyes sparkling with excitement, clearly over the moon. And then, without any warning, he reached out and wrapped his arms around you in an enthusiastic, almost too tight hug. His head rested briefly on your shoulder, and for a second, you froze. It was awkward. It was too much. You could feel the warmth of his body pressed against yours, and it made your skin crawl, your stomach twist in discomfort. The kind of discomfort that made you want to shove him off, but you stayed still, not wanting to make a scene in the middle of the hallway.

“Seriously, I couldn’t have done it without you,” Jake said, pulling back, grinning widely.

You stepped back slightly, not sure what to do with yourself. “It’s fine. It was a team effort,” you muttered, trying to sound unaffected.

But then, just as you were about to turn back to your locker, you felt it—a tug at the corner of your lips. Before you could even process it, a small, involuntary smile crept onto your face. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but it was there.

You hated to admit it, but that moment—the hug—felt different. It wasn’t just Jake being his annoying, talkative self. It was something else. You didn’t know how to categorize it, but a part of you didn’t mind it as much as you thought you would. That small, unwelcome smile lingered for just a moment longer before you cleared your throat and turned your attention back to your locker.

“Whatever,” you muttered, pushing your books into your bag. “It’s over. We won. Let’s leave it at that.”

Jake didn’t seem to mind your coldness. If anything, he seemed even more amused by it. “You’re always so chill,” he teased, nudging you with his shoulder. “You don’t show it, but I know you’re happy we won.”

You couldn’t help the tiny roll of your eyes, but you were smiling, even if it was just a little bit. It was strange. You didn’t want to get used to it, didn’t want to think about why you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different. But there was no denying it. Something had shifted.

You just didn’t know what.

The next few days felt like a blur. The debate was over, and somehow, against all odds, you and Jake had come out victorious. But that victory didn’t change the fact that your tutoring sessions with him were far from smooth sailing. You were nearing the end of the two remaining sessions you had agreed to, and despite your best intentions to stay focused, it was like nothing had changed. Jake still showed up late, still launched into tangents the second he sat down, still had that never-ending need to fill every silence with his voice.

At first, you tried to keep your patience in check, tried to redirect him to the material. You even tried muttering a few “focus, Jake”s under your breath, but it wasn’t long before you gave up. You stopped trying to manage him. You let him talk. Let him yap. And, strangely enough, you didn’t mind anymore.

As he rambled on about his annoying Gen Alpha brother, how he kept stealing his clothes and breaking his gaming consoles, you didn’t even bother pretending to care. Your pen rested idly in your hand as you stared at the pages in front of you, letting the words flow in one ear and out the other. You caught yourself watching him instead. You noticed the way his hands moved when he talked, the way he always seemed to forget what he was saying halfway through, only to quickly come up with another topic. His lips, his eyes, the way he ran a hand through his hair when he was trying to find the right word—it was all so… familiar now. It wasn’t annoying anymore. It was just him.

You hadn’t realized how much you were just listening until the silence suddenly hit. Jake, for once, had stopped talking.

You glanced up, your gaze catching his, and you noticed something different in his expression. It wasn’t the usual easygoing grin or cocky smirk. It was something more subdued, more thoughtful. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. The air felt thick with that kind of tension that usually accompanied an unspoken question.

“Why are you staring at me?” Jake asked suddenly, breaking the quiet with a soft laugh, though there was something almost vulnerable in his voice.

You blinked, caught off guard by his question. You hadn’t even realized you were staring.

“I—I wasn’t staring,” you muttered, suddenly aware of how hot your face was. But it didn’t matter, because you couldn’t look away. He was staring at you now, too. It was like a silent challenge, something you couldn’t quite place but felt undeniably real.

There was a brief silence as you both just… stared. Neither of you moved, neither of you spoke. You weren’t sure if it was because you were finally noticing something you hadn’t before, or because there was something you were both avoiding.

Finally, Jake broke the silence again, this time in a quieter tone. “You know, you don’t always have to pretend you don’t care about me, right?”

Your breath hitched at the unexpected words. For a moment, you thought about snapping something sarcastic, something to deflect. But then you realized that the words felt different coming from him. They didn’t carry the usual teasing lilt. They were softer. Almost… uncertain.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for the first time in weeks, you were struck by the thought that maybe you didn’t have all the answers. Maybe it wasn’t just Jake talking anymore. Maybe it was something else entirely. Something you didn’t quite know how to handle. You stared at him for another moment, the words sitting on the tip of your tongue, but all you could do was swallow them back down.

Instead, you just nodded, a simple acknowledgment. “Yeah. Maybe.”

And with that, the moment passed. Jake’s grin slowly returned, and you both fell back into the rhythm you had known so well. He resumed his rambling, but this time, you didn’t fight it. You just… listened.

The tutoring session had ended, and you packed up your things with the usual methodical precision, still processing everything that had happened. Jake was nowhere to be seen, probably chatting with someone or off doing something else, as he always did. You stood in front of your desk, organizing your notes, trying not to think about how strange the last hour had felt. It was different than usual—less frustrating, maybe even a little… comfortable? But you weren’t ready to unpack that yet.

As you gathered your things, you heard the faint sound of footsteps outside the classroom. You glanced up, spotting Sunoo, who was leaning casually against the doorframe, waiting for Jake. He gave you a quick smile, but it didn’t last long before he turned his attention back down the hallway.

“Hey, you,” Sunoo called to Jake as he appeared in the doorway. “Ready to go for your early birthday dinner?”

Jake waved him off, flashing a quick grin. “Yeah, yeah, just a second. I gotta grab my stuff,” he said, his voice distracted.

Sunoo crossed his arms, leaning back into the doorframe and flashing a mischievous grin. “You’re awfully distracted today. Been talking to Y/N a little too much, huh?”

Jake froze, almost imperceptibly, and glanced back at Sunoo with a raised brow. “What?” he asked, faking innocence, but the hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

Sunoo’s grin only grew wider, clearly teasing now. “I don’t know, man. You’ve been acting… different. Like, every time I see you after tutoring, you’re all smiley and weird. What, do you like her or something?”

Jake’s expression shifted, and for a brief moment, he looked almost… unsure. He glanced down at the floor, his hands in his pockets, but then he looked up at Sunoo with a small, almost sheepish grin.

“I think I do,” he murmured softly, just enough for Sunoo to catch the words, his tone quieter than usual.

Sunoo’s eyes widened slightly, his lips curling into a smile. “Oh? Ohhhh, so that’s what’s going on.” His voice was light, but his eyes held a knowing gleam. “You might wanna figure that out, man.”

Jake’s response was lost in a brief moment of hesitation, but he didn’t argue. He simply gave a small shrug. “Let’s just go, alright? We’ll talk later.”

Sunoo nodded, clearly still amused, and without missing a beat, he turned back toward the hallway. Jake followed him, and as they walked down the corridor, they began chatting about something else entirely, and the sound of their voices faded as they made their way toward the stairs.

You, however, had been too busy packing your things to hear anything more than a few quiet words exchanged between them. You didn’t catch what Sunoo had said. You didn’t hear the soft confession that Jake had made to him.

For you, the moment passed like everything else—leaving you to continue your life with no idea that something had shifted between you and Jake.

The next day, when Jake showed up for tutoring, something was different. It wasn’t the usual loud, chaotic energy he brought into the room, the constant stream of words that filled every quiet space. Today, he was quieter—not the usual loud, distracted Jake, but something more… subdued. He still had that confident, easygoing aura, but he wasn’t talking just for the sake of talking. It was almost like he was holding back, like he had something on his mind but wasn’t sure whether to say it.

You glanced up from your notes when he sat down across from you, his eyes a little more focused, but there was something in the way he was fidgeting with his pen that made you feel like he wasn’t entirely present. It wasn’t the normal Jake you’d gotten used to—the one who would drop a random fact or ask a weird question out of nowhere. He was… different today. Still there, but quieter. Almost as if he was waiting for something.

For a while, the two of you just worked in silence. You, flipping through your notes, trying to make sense of everything you were supposed to know for the upcoming test. Jake, scribbling away on his homework, but it was clear his mind wasn’t entirely on the assignment.

Finally, after what felt like a long stretch of silence, Jake cleared his throat.

“Hey, so, um…” he started, his voice a little hesitant, an unfamiliar shift in his tone. You looked up from your paper, sensing the change in his demeanor. He hesitated for a moment, eyes darting around the room, before meeting your gaze. “I was wondering… you know, my birthday dinner is tonight, and, uh… well, I thought maybe you’d want to come.”

You blinked at him, surprised. It wasn’t like Jake to ask you directly about something personal, and even more so, it was strange that he was asking you to join him at his birthday dinner. You weren’t the type for parties. You didn’t even like them, to be honest. You preferred quiet nights, your routine, your space.

“I… I don’t really do parties,” you replied, shrugging slightly, trying to keep your tone neutral. “I’m not really into big social gatherings.”

Jake, however, wasn’t deterred. His eyes softened, and you could see that he wasn’t about to drop it that easily.

“Come on,” he said, his voice taking on a playful, almost pleading tone. “It’ll be fun! Just for a little bit. You don’t even have to stay long, I promise. It’s just a small dinner with my friends… and… you know, I kind of want you to be there.”

His words caught you off guard, more than you’d like to admit. Jake, being the charismatic guy he was, didn’t beg. He wasn’t the type to be earnest about stuff like this. But now, with that small, almost shy grin on his face, and the way he was looking at you—almost like he was unsure of how to convince you—it was hard to say no.

You felt the tug of guilt. You knew he was just asking because he wanted you to be there—maybe even needed you to be there—and it was difficult to shake that thought.

“I really don’t know…” you started, but before you could finish, Jake jumped in, his voice becoming more determined.

“Please, Y/N,” he said, his eyes bright with that familiar spark. “Just this once. I swear I’ll make it worth your while. You can even leave early if you want. But, uh, it’d really mean a lot to me if you came.”

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair, feeling the pressure of his request weighing on you. It was just one night, one dinner. It wouldn’t hurt, right?

You let out a sigh, caving in. “Fine. I’ll go.”

Jake’s grin lit up, and you could practically see the relief flood through him. “Yes!” He immediately sat up straighter, looking way too pleased with himself. “It’s going to be fun. I promise. I’ll make sure it’s not boring.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips, despite yourself. “Alright, alright, I’m going. But don’t expect me to stay long.”

Jake chuckled, nodding enthusiastically. “Deal! I’ll make sure it’s short and sweet.”

And with that, the air between you two lightened once more. You could still feel that odd shift in the way Jake was acting today, but you pushed it to the back of your mind for now. You had given in, and you’d show up.

After all, it was his birthday.

You had no idea what to get Jake. You’d spent the last two hours walking around the mall, looking at store after store, trying to figure out what someone like him would even want. Jake was… well, Jake. He was loud, unpredictable, and always seemed to have everything figured out. He had everything you could think of: clothes, gadgets, sneakers—there was nothing obvious that you could buy him. You didn’t know him well enough to pick something meaningful, and you couldn’t just pick up something random and hope it worked. What did a guy like him even like?

Your mind raced, and as the minutes ticked by, you found yourself getting more and more frustrated. You checked your watch—two hours until his birthday dinner, and you still had nothing. Your phone buzzed with a reminder: “Get something for Jake!”

I’m trying, okay? you thought, shoving the phone back into your bag.

You had already bought a new top, a light pink short-sleeve shirt, hoping to look cute but not overdo it. It was casual, but still nice enough for dinner. You’d paired it with a simple white skirt—something you could move comfortably in, without feeling overdressed. You even styled your hair, which was rare for you. It felt like too much effort, but for some reason, today, you actually wanted to look… well, pretty. You wanted to look like you had at least tried.

But as you walked through the mall for the second time, your energy started to wane. The buzz of the crowd, the brightly lit stores, and the overwhelming number of options were draining. You stopped in front of a display with colorful mugs and keychains, wondering if maybe something small and quirky would be the right choice. But as you picked up a keychain shaped like a gaming controller, you immediately put it back. No way.

You checked your watch again. You had no time to overthink it anymore. You just had to pick something.

Ugh, why is this so hard?

You felt yourself getting more and more exhausted with every step. Your feet ached from walking so much, and the pressure of getting Jake’s gift just right was starting to eat at you. You glanced down at your outfit. The light pink shirt and white skirt felt okay—cute enough, but what if it was too much for a casual dinner? What if it was too little? You sighed, shaking your head.

You were halfway across the mall now, eyes scanning the stores around you, when you spotted a small boutique tucked in a corner. Maybe, just maybe, there would be something in there. You took a deep breath and walked toward it, hoping this wouldn’t be another disappointment.

You had no clue what Jake really wanted. You didn’t know what was cool for a guy like him. But you were determined to figure it out.

You just hoped you wouldn’t have to walk around the mall for another hour.

As you walked through the boutique, your mind kept wandering back to Jake’s offhand comment a few days ago. You remembered him telling you, between rants about his annoying little brother and his hectic school life, about his dog, Layla. His eyes had softened as he talked about her—there was something about the way he spoke that told you just how much he missed her.

“She’s a Border Collie,” Jake had said, smiling wistfully. “Back in Australia… She’s a good dog, always hyper and, like, way smarter than me. I swear she knows exactly what I’m thinking half the time. I miss her a lot.”

You remembered the way his voice had trailed off, as if the thought of his dog—so far away now—was too painful to fully dive into. You hadn’t thought much of it at the time. But now, as you browsed through the small boutique, the memory of his words stuck with you.

The shop was full of delicate trinkets, little charms hanging from gold and silver chains. You walked past a display case filled with bracelets, each more charming than the last. Your fingers grazed the edges of the glass as you looked over them, and that’s when something caught your eye. A simple bracelet—gold, with a tiny charm hanging from it.

It was small and delicate, but the charm was unmistakable. The letter “L” was etched into the metal, accompanied by a small, detailed charm shaped like a dog’s paw. A Border Collie’s paw, if you looked closely enough.

You stopped dead in your tracks.

Your heart skipped a beat as the realization hit you. The bracelet was perfect. It wasn’t too flashy, just subtle enough that it wouldn’t draw too much attention, but meaningful. A little nod to Layla, Jake’s dog—something that would remind him of home and the bond he shared with her.

You felt a small smile tug at your lips as you gently picked up the bracelet, your fingers brushing over the smooth surface of the letter “L”. It felt right. The weight of it in your hand seemed to settle all the nerves that had been gnawing at you for the past few hours. This was the gift. You didn’t need to search anymore.

For a brief moment, you found yourself imagining Jake’s reaction—his face lighting up when he saw it, maybe a little surprised, maybe even touched. You thought back to the way he had looked when he mentioned Layla, and you could almost hear the fondness in his voice. It felt like the right thing to do.

With a small sigh of relief, you walked up to the counter and paid for the bracelet, feeling a sense of satisfaction that you hadn’t expected. It wasn’t some grand gesture, but you were pretty sure it would mean something to him.

You hoped it would be enough.

You arrived at the restaurant a little later than expected—traffic had been a nightmare. Your phone had buzzed multiple times, notifications from Jake, probably wondering where you were, but you’d been too caught up in the mess of cars and honking horns to reply. By the time you walked through the doors, you were sure you were the last person to arrive.

The restaurant was buzzing with the chatter of diners, the smoky smell of sizzling meat hanging in the air. As your eyes scanned the room, you immediately spotted Jake, sitting at a table with a couple of unfamiliar faces. You didn’t recognize them at first, but they were laughing and talking comfortably, clearly already deep into their meal. Sunoo and Jay were there too, sitting beside Jake, looking over at you as you approached.

Jake caught your eye right away. He straightened up, but when he saw you, there was a small flicker of surprise that crossed his face, followed by a look of relief. He had probably assumed you weren’t coming.

“Oh, hey! You made it!” he called out, his voice bright and welcoming, as if he hadn’t been quietly wondering where you’d been all this time.

The two unfamiliar faces turned their attention to you. One was a tall guy with sharp features and a friendly smile, the other a girl with short hair and an easygoing demeanor. They both looked at you, curious but polite. It was clear that they didn’t expect you to be showing up at all, and when they saw you, their expressions turned into warm but surprised greetings.

“Ah, you’re here!” the tall guy said with a smile, waving you over. “We thought you weren’t going to make it.”

You smiled awkwardly, shrugging a little as you made your way to the table. “Yeah, traffic was terrible. Sorry I’m late.”

Jake slid over, making room for you next to him, his usual grin back in full force. “No problem,” he said. “Come join us. This is Minho,” he pointed to the guy, who gave you a friendly nod, “and this is Jisoo,” he pointed to the girl, who smiled warmly. “They’re both friends from my class.”

You sat down, grateful for the space they’d made for you, and immediately noticed that Sunoo and Jay seemed more interested in you than they had before. They were watching you closely, but trying not to be obvious about it. Sunoo, of course, was already smirking, and Jay seemed just as relaxed as usual, giving you a wink as you settled in.

“Glad you could join us,” Jay said, his tone playful. “We were starting to think Jake might have to eat all the food by himself.”

Jake rolled his eyes, clearly used to their teasing. “Shut up, Jay. I’m not that bad.”

The mood around the table lightened as the conversation shifted to something else, but you couldn’t help but feel a little out of place with these new faces. It was Jake’s birthday, and it felt like you were crashing a party with his closest friends. You knew you were just there for dinner, but it was still a little strange to be sitting with people you hadn’t really spoken to before.

Still, you didn’t mind the warmth in the air. The laughter from the others, the clink of chopsticks against the grill, and Jake’s usual boisterous energy made the whole experience feel easier than expected. It wasn’t so bad. Maybe this would end up being fun, despite everything you had thought going into it.

And for a second, you even forgot the pressure of being there at all. You were just… part of the group.

As the night wore on, the conversation around the table flowed easily, with Jake and his friends joking, laughing, and digging into the sizzling Korean BBQ. You were starting to relax, the initial awkwardness melting away with every bite of meat and every passing moment. The more you watched Jake, the more you couldn’t help but smile. He was clearly enjoying himself, surrounded by his friends, his laughter ringing out across the table.

At some point, when the meal had slowed down a bit and everyone was lounging back in their chairs, you realized it was time.

You reached into your bag, your fingers brushing the small box that held Jake’s gift. You’d been holding onto it since the moment you bought it, unsure of the best moment to give it to him. The thought of handing it over felt a little nerve-wracking, but something in you told you it was the right time.

Jake was leaning back in his chair, talking with Minho about some new video game, and you noticed how relaxed he looked—like the weight of school and everything else was lifted off his shoulders for the moment. You bit your lip, then stood up from your seat, drawing a few curious glances from his friends.

“Jake,” you called quietly, your voice just a bit more hesitant than you intended. He looked up, meeting your gaze, and you saw the flicker of surprise in his eyes as you walked toward him.

“Hey,” you started, feeling your heart rate pick up just a little. “I, uh, I got you something.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting this. His face lit up in that usual mischievous grin. “Oh? What is it? I wasn’t expecting a gift, you know.”

You handed him the small box, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. “Well, I know it’s not much, but… I thought you’d like it.”

Jake paused for a moment, looking down at the box in his hands. There was a flicker of curiosity in his expression as he carefully untied the ribbon and opened it. His eyes scanned the bracelet inside, the charm catching the light, and for a moment, he just stared at it, quiet.

“Layla,” he murmured, almost to himself. “This… this is perfect. How did you—?”

You watched him closely, noting the softness that appeared in his eyes. For the first time that night, he seemed genuinely touched. His grin softened as he looked up at you, a little sheepish, as if he hadn’t expected you to notice how much he missed his dog.

“I talked about her, didn’t I?” Jake said, his voice low but with a light chuckle, his fingers gently tracing the letter “L” and the dog charm. “You really listened.”

You shrugged a little, feeling that familiar awkwardness creep back up, but you didn’t mind as much. “I guess… I remember you saying how much you missed her. I thought it’d be a nice way to remind you of home.”

Jake’s smile grew wider, and for a second, it was like his usual confident self was replaced with something softer, something realer. He met your eyes, and for the briefest moment, the playful tension that always hung between you two seemed to fade.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice sincere. “This means a lot to me. Honestly.”

You nodded, unsure of what else to say. His reaction had caught you a little off guard, but it was good to see him this way—appreciative, genuine.

As the evening continued, the gift was set aside, but you could see Jake glance at it now and then, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips. You didn’t need anything more than that—a small, unexpected connection, and the quiet realization that maybe, just maybe, things between the two of you weren’t as complicated as they seemed.

At least, not always.

As the night went on, the laughter and chatter continued, and soon, the attention shifted toward the cake. It was a beautifully decorated strawberry shortcake, something you figured Jake probably enjoyed. His friends had all gathered around it, their voices rising in excitement as they prepared to sing. The lights dimmed slightly, and the room filled with the sounds of birthday cheers and the soft hum of the group’s collective enthusiasm.

“Happy birthday to you!” they all sang, their voices blending together in cheerful harmony. Everyone except you, that is.

You stood at the edge of the group, quietly observing. You had no interest in singing along—maybe it was the awkwardness of being around people you didn’t know very well, maybe it was just because you preferred to keep to yourself. Either way, you didn’t sing. Instead, you simply stood there, clapping softly along with the others, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you watched Jake. His eyes were bright with amusement, a wide grin stretching across his face as he blew out the candles, making a wish you could only guess at.

Jake was so caught up in the moment that he didn’t notice your quiet distance, but his friends did. Sunoo shot you a look, his usual teasing expression now replaced with something softer, a slight curiosity in his eyes. You didn’t really care though; you had no intention of drawing attention to yourself.

When the song finished, everyone clapped and laughed, and Jake’s friends immediately dug into the cake, passing pieces around. You took a small plate, accepting your slice with a polite nod, but you stayed quiet. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be part of the celebration, it was just… you didn’t really know how to navigate it all. Being around Jake’s friends, people you barely knew, in the middle of this cheerful scene—it all felt like too much sometimes.

Jake caught your eye for a split second, noticing how you’d stayed quiet through the whole thing. But instead of teasing you or asking why you weren’t singing, he just gave you a small, genuine smile. It wasn’t the usual loud grin you were used to, but something different—a quiet understanding.

You felt a warmth spread through you, something unspoken between the two of you in that brief moment. But then, the moment passed, and Jake was already moving on to joke with Minho, and you were back to standing off to the side, quietly watching the rest of the party unfold.

You may not have been the loudest or the center of attention, but in that moment, you were fine with that. You didn’t need to be. You had the soft smiles, the quiet nods, and the connection that had been slowly building with Jake. And that was enough for now.

As the night went on, the laughter and chatter continued, and soon, the attention shifted toward the cake. It was a beautifully decorated strawberry shortcake, something you figured Jake probably enjoyed. His friends had all gathered around it, their voices rising in excitement as they prepared to sing. The lights dimmed slightly, and the room filled with the sounds of birthday cheers and the soft hum of the group’s collective enthusiasm.

“Happy birthday to you!” they all sang, their voices blending together in cheerful harmony. Everyone except you, that is.

You stood at the edge of the group, quietly observing. You had no interest in singing along—maybe it was the awkwardness of being around people you didn’t know very well, maybe it was just because you preferred to keep to yourself. Either way, you didn’t sing. Instead, you simply stood there, clapping softly along with the others, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you watched Jake. His eyes were bright with amusement, a wide grin stretching across his face as he blew out the candles, making a wish you could only guess at.

Jake was so caught up in the moment that he didn’t notice your quiet distance, but his friends did. Sunoo shot you a look, his usual teasing expression now replaced with something softer, a slight curiosity in his eyes. You didn’t really care though; you had no intention of drawing attention to yourself.

When the song finished, everyone clapped and laughed, and Jake’s friends immediately dug into the cake, passing pieces around. You took a small plate, accepting your slice with a polite nod, but you stayed quiet. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be part of the celebration, it was just… you didn’t really know how to navigate it all. Being around Jake’s friends, people you barely knew, in the middle of this cheerful scene—it all felt like too much sometimes.

Jake caught your eye for a split second, noticing how you’d stayed quiet through the whole thing. But instead of teasing you or asking why you weren’t singing, he just gave you a small, genuine smile. It wasn’t the usual loud grin you were used to, but something different—a quiet understanding.

You felt a warmth spread through you, something unspoken between the two of you in that brief moment. But then, the moment passed, and Jake was already moving on to joke with Minho, and you were back to standing off to the side, quietly watching the rest of the party unfold.

You may not have been the loudest or the center of attention, but in that moment, you were fine with that. You didn’t need to be. You had the soft smiles, the quiet nods, and the connection that had been slowly building with Jake. And that was enough for now.

As the party wound down, the once lively chatter began to dwindle. People filtered out one by one, bidding Jake a cheerful goodbye, some slinging playful goodbyes as they waved. Sunoo and Jay were the last to leave, both of them giving Jake a ruffle of the hair and teasing him about the night. Sunoo shot you a wink as he passed by, but you simply nodded, offering a polite smile.

Once they were all gone, the atmosphere in the room shifted. It wasn’t as loud or chaotic anymore. The music had turned down low, the cake had been mostly eaten, and the remnants of a once-bustling party now sat quietly on the table—empty cups, a few crumpled napkins, and the last of the leftover snacks scattered about.

Jake, who had been the life of the party just moments ago, was now sitting back on the couch, looking at his phone. He was alone now, too—save for you, still sitting at the edge of the room, sipping on your drink, having not really said much in the last hour.

You weren’t sure why you stayed. You could’ve easily made up some excuse and slipped out when the others did. But something made you linger, almost as if you didn’t want to leave just yet. Maybe it was the quietness of the room, or maybe it was the fact that it felt like, for once, the two of you didn’t have to be anything. You didn’t have to talk loudly, you didn’t have to keep up with the jokes or banter. You could just… be.

Jake looked up from his phone, catching your eye as you sat there, lost in your thoughts. For a moment, neither of you said anything. There was just the soft hum of the room, the quiet after all the noise.

“Everyone’s gone, huh?” Jake finally said, his voice breaking the silence. He was leaning back, his expression more relaxed than you’d seen all night. He didn’t look as animated or hyper now—just like a normal guy, unwinding after his celebration.

“Yeah,” you said softly, looking around the room. “Looks like it.”

Jake sat up, shifting to face you more directly. There was something different in the way he looked at you now—maybe it was the quiet of the room, or maybe the night was winding down, but you could tell he wasn’t just looking at you as his study partner or the girl he’d been tutoring with. There was something… more there. Something unspoken, lingering between the two of you.

“You didn’t really join in much, did you?” Jake asked, a bit of a teasing edge to his voice, though it wasn’t as lighthearted as it had been earlier. His gaze softened a little as he spoke. “You’re not really the party type, huh?”

You shrugged, not quite meeting his gaze. “Not really.”

There was an uncomfortable silence, but it wasn’t the same kind of tension that had existed before. It was quieter—almost understanding. You could tell Jake wasn’t pushing you, but he was curious, trying to figure you out, in his own way.

“I get it,” he said after a pause, leaning back into the couch again, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. “I’m not exactly a fan of huge crowds either. But… I’m glad you came.”

You didn’t know how to respond. You just nodded, offering him a small smile.

It was strange, being here with just him. After all the noise, the laughter, and the teasing, it felt like the two of you were in your own little world now—just the quiet of the room and the soft thrum of unspoken words between you.

“So,” Jake said, breaking the silence again with that familiar lopsided grin, “what now?”

You weren’t sure what to say. There was something almost comfortable in the way you were sitting there, not needing to fill the air with words. So, you just shrugged, still quietly smiling.

“I don’t know,” you replied. “Maybe we just… hang out a little longer?”

Jake’s grin softened into something more genuine as he leaned forward, stretching his arms out. “I like that idea.”

The night stretched on, but you weren’t in any rush to leave. For once, you didn’t mind the silence, and you didn’t feel like you needed to say anything more than what had already been said.

It wasn’t anything grand or dramatic. But, for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were exactly where you needed to be.

The streets were quiet as the two of you walked side by side, the hum of the city’s nightlife echoing in the distance, but the air around you felt peaceful. The kind of peaceful that happens when the world around you seems to disappear, leaving just the two of you walking in comfortable silence.

You hadn’t even realized how late it had gotten. The hour had slipped away quietly between small conversations and moments of quiet. Now, here you were, walking in the cool night air, the dim glow of streetlights casting long shadows across the sidewalk.

Jake had been unusually quiet on the walk back. Normally, he’d be talking non-stop about something—something random, something funny, or something that caught his attention. But tonight, there was a strange silence hanging between you two, and you couldn’t quite place why.

When you reached the corner of your street, where you usually split off from each other, Jake stopped walking. You kept going for a couple of steps before realizing he wasn’t beside you anymore. Turning, you looked back at him, confused.

“Jake?” you asked, your voice softer than usual.

He was standing there, his hands shoved into his pockets, staring down at the ground for a moment, clearly thinking. There was an air of uncertainty about him—something you weren’t used to seeing in Jake. Normally, he was so sure of himself, so loud and unbothered by what people thought. But now? He looked almost… nervous?

“Hey,” he began, his voice low and hesitant. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

You blinked, tilting your head. “What’s up?”

He took a deep breath, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “I… I’m not really good at saying this kind of stuff,” he continued, his words stumbling a bit as if he was choosing each one carefully. “But, uh, I guess I’ve been thinking about it for a while. And I don’t know how to say it without sounding… well, like an idiot, but…” He paused again, running a hand through his hair, his gaze now focused on the ground.

You stood there, not sure what to say. The tension in the air was thick, and suddenly, the simple walk home felt a little heavier.

“I like you,” Jake finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked up at you again, his face a little flushed, his expression uncertain. “I don’t know when it happened, or why, but… I think I do.”

For a moment, you were silent, your mind racing. Your heart skipped a beat. You had no idea how to respond. The words caught in your throat, and you stood there, staring at him, not sure whether to speak or just… let the silence settle.

Jake’s gaze shifted as the seconds ticked by, clearly waiting for you to say something. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. The shock was too much, and the weight of his confession was suddenly overwhelming.

He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, clearly unsure of how to handle the silence between you two. “I know this is… unexpected,” he continued, his voice a little more rushed now. “And I know we’ve had our moments, but… I just had to tell you. I couldn’t keep pretending it wasn’t there.”

You felt your pulse quicken, your breath caught in your chest. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond, or what this meant for the two of you. The shock of his confession left you speechless. It wasn’t that you didn’t feel something for him—something you hadn’t quite figured out yet—but this? This was unexpected. It threw you off.

You wanted to say something, anything, to fill the silence. But all you could manage was a quiet exhale, standing there frozen as you processed the weight of his words.

Jake didn’t seem to know what to do either. He ran a hand through his hair again, and the tension in his posture told you just how uncomfortable he felt now. “You don’t have to say anything,” he added quickly, almost too quickly. “I just wanted you to know. I—yeah. I think that’s all.”

The silence stretched on, and you could feel the weight of his confession still hanging in the air. You wanted to respond, but nothing seemed right. What were you supposed to say to something like that?

After a moment, Jake shifted uncomfortably again, looking like he regretted saying anything at all. “Uh, I’ll let you go,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost as if he was trying to avoid looking at you. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

He turned to leave, but you didn’t move. You stood frozen, your mind still racing, trying to process the fact that Jake—loud, talkative, always so confident Jake—had just told you something that you hadn’t been prepared for.

He stopped for a moment and turned back slightly, glancing at you. “If you want to talk about it, you know where to find me.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you standing there, alone in the cool night air, trying to figure out what had just happened.

You didn’t move for a while. You just stood there, caught in the whirlwind of emotions that his confession had stirred up. What now?

The next day, you didn’t show up to school. The quiet, anxious feeling from Jake’s confession still lingered, and you didn’t want to face anyone, especially him. You needed time to process it all, to figure out how to even act around him after what he’d said. But despite not being there, somehow, Jake had passed his test. It didn’t make sense to you, considering how little you had actually done in your tutoring sessions. But then again, you didn’t really understand how Jake operated.

Your phone buzzed with messages from him—texts that you ignored. You weren’t ready to respond yet. The last thing you wanted to deal with was his incessant talking, not after last night. But despite your silence, Jake kept trying to reach you.

And then, there he was, standing at your front door.

You weren’t expecting him to show up at your house, especially not after everything that had happened. But there he was, standing awkwardly on your porch, looking at you with an apologetic expression.

“Y/N, hey,” Jake started, his voice quiet but still carrying that familiar nervous energy. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird. I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about what I said yesterday, and I figured I should apologize. I’ve been trying to text you, but I guess you didn’t get them…”

You didn’t know how to react. The last thing you wanted was him here, standing in front of you, talking to you about something that had been running through your mind over and over again. You wanted to say something, anything, but all you could do was stand there and blink, lost for words.

“Jake,” you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. It felt odd saying his name out loud, like your thoughts had finally caught up with the reality of the situation.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Jake continued, his words rushing out like they always did. “I mean, I didn’t want to mess things up, and I thought maybe—”

“Jake!” you interrupted, your voice a little sharper now, unable to handle the constant stream of words he was throwing at you.

He froze for a moment, blinking at you in surprise, clearly not expecting you to snap at him like that. “Sorry,” he said, giving you a sheepish smile, but still not stopping. “I just… I just thought maybe we could talk it out, you know? I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or—”

Before he could finish, you stepped forward, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket and pulling him towards you. You didn’t even think about it, you just did it. And then, before he could say another word, you kissed him.

It was a quick kiss, but it felt like everything—like all the thoughts you had been too scared to say and all the confusion you had been carrying suddenly just dissolved. You pulled away just as quickly, your breath uneven, your heart pounding in your chest.

Jake was silent for a moment, his eyes wide with surprise, his mouth slightly open.

“You’re so noisy,” you said, your voice softer now, but with a certain sharpness behind it. It was the first time you’d said anything since he’d shown up, and it felt like a weight lifting off your shoulders.

He blinked at you, clearly processing what had just happened. And for the first time in the entire conversation, Jake was silent. There was no rambling, no endless chatter. Just the quiet between the two of you, filling the space in a way that felt… right.

“I—” he started, but then, he stopped, his lips twitching into a small smile. “Guess I deserved that.”

You didn’t say anything else. You just stood there, feeling a little calmer now, a little more grounded. Jake had finally quieted down, and somehow, you felt like things might just be okay.

You stood there for a moment, your pulse still racing from the kiss, unsure of what to do next. Jake, however, didn’t seem to notice your hesitation. His eyes sparkled with that usual energy of his, though there was something different in them now—something softer.

“So… does this mean you, like, like me back or something?” he asked, his voice a little too hopeful, but still managing to sound just a little bit teasing.

You opened your mouth to answer, but before you could get a word out, he continued, rambling as always. “I mean, I get it if you don’t know yet, and we can take things slow, but I just—”

You couldn’t take it anymore.

Without thinking, you grabbed his face, pulling him toward you again, and kissed him. This time, it was longer, deeper, more deliberate. You didn’t let him talk, just focused on the feeling of his lips against yours, trying to silence the chaos in your own mind that had been building for days. When you pulled away, both of you breathless, you finally managed to speak.

“Shut up, Jake,” you said, your voice low but firm, as you pulled back slightly and gave him a pointed look.

Jake blinked, clearly stunned for a second, but then that familiar grin spread across his face again. He chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “I don’t know whether to be mad or flattered right now.”

You just gave him a small smirk in response. “Maybe you should be both.”

The teasing glint in his eyes was back. “Guess I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then?”

You rolled your eyes and stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in. “Come inside, Jake. We need to talk about what’s going on here… after you stop talking for five minutes.”

Jake grinned wider. “That’s a big ask, but I’ll try my best.”

You raised an eyebrow, leading him inside. “Good luck with that.”

Once inside, you motioned for Jake to sit down on the couch. He shuffled in, still grinning like an idiot, looking at you with that same mischievous gleam in his eyes. You sat down on the opposite side, trying to create some space, but it wasn’t doing much to cool the heat you could still feel between you two.

Jake plopped down, still practically bouncing on the couch. “So, does this mean I get to talk now, or…?” he trailed off, his gaze mischievous as ever.

You sighed and rubbed your temples, trying to stave off the inevitable flood of words that was about to come. “You can talk, Jake, but just—” You paused, unsure of how to phrase it. “Just listen for a second. Let’s figure this out, okay?”

“Alright, alright, I’ll try to be quiet,” he said, though his grin suggested he wasn’t sure he could actually pull it off.

You took a deep breath, trying to sort through your thoughts. “I don’t know what this is yet. I don’t know what it means, and I’m still figuring things out… but you’re really distracting, you know that?”

Jake blinked, looking a little surprised at your admission. “Distracting? How?”

You shot him a half-smile. “You talk non-stop. You’re loud. You’re… everywhere. And honestly, I didn’t know how to handle it, especially after last night.” You paused. “But, I also don’t mind it… when you’re not talking about something completely random.”

Jake, for the first time in forever, sat still. His usual energy seemed to fade just a little, and he looked at you carefully, like he was actually trying to understand what you were saying. “You don’t mind me being loud?”

You shook your head. “No. Well, sometimes. But not always.” You sighed again, rubbing your forehead. “It’s just… you have this way about you. I don’t know. I didn’t expect any of this.”

Jake leaned forward, a bit more serious now, his eyes softening. “You’re kind of making me blush here,” he said, a small laugh escaping his lips. But there was no teasing in his voice this time, just a genuine warmth that made your chest tighten slightly.

You tilted your head, studying him. “I’m just trying to be honest. It’s hard to keep up with you sometimes, Jake. But I… I guess I’ve been keeping up with you more than I thought. And now, I don’t know what to do with it.”

He leaned back on the couch, his posture softening, as if he was absorbing your words. “Well,” he said after a moment, “I guess it’s a good thing I’m good at keeping up with you, then.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling, but now it wasn’t just his usual grin—it was a soft, genuine smile, like he was letting you see the real him. “I think so.”

The air between you two wasn’t as tense anymore, and that uncomfortable feeling you’d had since his confession seemed to slowly fade away. There was something calming about the way Jake was looking at you now, no longer rambling on about random things, but just being present with you.

“Alright,” you said, the corner of your mouth twitching upward. “But I still think you talk way too much.”

Jake chuckled, his grin returning. “You don’t mind,” he said, teasing, but with that same sincerity behind it. “And besides, you’ll get used to it.”

You stared at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I guess I will.”

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t neatly tied up in a bow. But it was something—something between the two of you that felt like it could be the start of whatever came next.

The next day, you didn’t show up to school. The quiet, anxious feeling from Jake’s confession still lingered, and you didn’t want to face anyone, especially him. You needed time to process it all, to figure out how to even act around him after what he’d said. But despite not being there, somehow, Jake had passed his test. It didn’t make sense to you, considering how little you had actually done in your tutoring sessions. But then again, you didn’t really understand how Jake operated.

Your phone buzzed with messages from him—texts that you ignored. You weren’t ready to respond yet. The last thing you wanted to deal with was his incessant talking, not after last night. But despite your silence, Jake kept trying to reach you.

And then, there he was, standing at your front door.

You weren’t expecting him to show up at your house, especially not after everything that had happened. But there he was, standing awkwardly on your porch, looking at you with an apologetic expression.

“Y/N, hey,” Jake started, his voice quiet but still carrying that familiar nervous energy. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird. I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about what I said yesterday, and I figured I should apologize. I’ve been trying to text you, but I guess you didn’t get them…”

You didn’t know how to react. The last thing you wanted was him here, standing in front of you, talking to you about something that had been running through your mind over and over again. You wanted to say something, anything, but all you could do was stand there and blink, lost for words.

“Jake,” you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. It felt odd saying his name out loud, like your thoughts had finally caught up with the reality of the situation.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Jake continued, his words rushing out like they always did. “I mean, I didn’t want to mess things up, and I thought maybe—”

“Jake!” you interrupted, your voice a little sharper now, unable to handle the constant stream of words he was throwing at you.

He froze for a moment, blinking at you in surprise, clearly not expecting you to snap at him like that. “Sorry,” he said, giving you a sheepish smile, but still not stopping. “I just… I just thought maybe we could talk it out, you know? I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or—”

Before he could finish, you stepped forward, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket and pulling him towards you. You didn’t even think about it, you just did it. And then, before he could say another word, you kissed him.

It was a quick kiss, but it felt like everything—like all the thoughts you had been too scared to say and all the confusion you had been carrying suddenly just dissolved. You pulled away just as quickly, your breath uneven, your heart pounding in your chest.

Jake was silent for a moment, his eyes wide with surprise, his mouth slightly open.

“You’re so noisy,” you said, your voice softer now, but with a certain sharpness behind it. It was the first time you’d said anything since he’d shown up, and it felt like a weight lifting off your shoulders.

He blinked at you, clearly processing what had just happened. And for the first time in the entire conversation, Jake was silent. There was no rambling, no endless chatter. Just the quiet between the two of you, filling the space in a way that felt… right.

“I—” he started, but then, he stopped, his lips twitching into a small smile. “Guess I deserved that.”

You didn’t say anything else. You just stood there, feeling a little calmer now, a little more grounded. Jake had finally quieted down, and somehow, you felt like things might just be okay.

You sat there, quiet, the stillness between you two finally feeling like something that made sense. Jake shifted on the couch, his usual energy still present, but there was something different about it now. A softness.

“Oh, and,” he said suddenly, almost shy, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “I forgot to tell you yesterday… you looked really pretty.”

You blinked, a little surprised. You hadn’t expected him to say that. You didn’t even know how to respond. You weren’t used to compliments, and you weren’t about to start talking a lot now. Instead, you just looked at him, mildly flustered.

He seemed to notice your silence and rushed to explain, his words tumbling out. “I mean, you look good every day, obviously, but yesterday, I don’t know—there was something about you. Maybe it was just the way you were dressed? You know, the pink shirt and everything? It really suited you, and I just thought you looked… I don’t know, different. But in a good way.” He shrugged, his grin widening as he looked at you. “You know what I mean?”

You were quiet for a moment, processing. Finally, you managed to smile slightly, not really knowing how to express what you were thinking. “Not every day, though,” you said quietly, the words barely above a whisper.

Jake, of course, didn’t seem to notice the hint of teasing in your voice. He was still going on about what he’d said, completely oblivious to your quieter response. “Yeah, but like, I mean—wait, did I say not every day? I didn’t mean it like that! You always look good, but yesterday—well, you know what I mean, right?” He paused, but when you didn’t immediately reply, he launched right back into it. “I guess it was just that moment, like, when I saw you yesterday… you had this vibe, this energy. I don’t know if I can explain it, but it just felt like you were different than the usual, like, I don’t know, more confident or something, and—”

You stopped him with a small shake of your head, still not saying much. You just couldn’t keep up with his constant talking, but at this point, you were used to it. It was just Jake being Jake.

You were content to sit quietly, letting him talk, even if you were barely following along. It was weirdly comforting, though. You didn’t need to speak, not with him around. He always had something to say, and it felt natural, like a part of your routine.

“So, anyway,” Jake continued, looking at you eagerly as though he was expecting some sort of reaction. “I was just thinking about it all, and then, I realized, maybe we could do the tutoring at your place instead of school? You know, less distractions, and, well, I know school can be kind of loud, but your place would be more chill, don’t you think?”

You barely registered his question, too caught up in the quiet hum of your own thoughts. You didn’t feel like speaking much today, not after everything. You were still figuring things out. But you nodded slightly, agreeing.

You gave him a brief glance, finally deciding to offer something to the conversation. “Maybe. But you’ll still talk the whole time.”

Jake laughed, his voice still full of that energy you were so used to by now. “I can’t help it! I mean, I’ve got so much to say, you know? I just like… talking. I like hearing myself talk,” he added with a grin, making you roll your eyes slightly.

You didn’t speak for a while after that. Instead, you just stared at him quietly, watching him go on and on. Honestly, you didn’t mind. It was like this every time you were together. You didn’t have to fill the space with words because Jake was always happy to do it for you.

“So, uh, same time tomorrow for tutoring?” Jake asked after a while, his eyes expectant as he looked at you.

You blinked, taking a moment to consider it. You had no intention of speaking much, as usual. But you gave a small nod. “Sure,” you whispered, feeling a tiny bit of tension leave your shoulders.

Jake smiled brightly, already moving to start talking again, but you stopped him with a look. He raised his eyebrows at you, clearly confused.

“You really don’t stop, do you?” you muttered softly, shaking your head just a little.

He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, you cut him off. “Fine, we’ll do tutoring at my place. But only if you talk less,” you said, your voice quiet, but with a small smile that tugged at the corner of your lips.

Jake blinked in surprise. “Wait, really? You’re agreeing? I thought you’d—”

“Yeah, well, you’re not going to shut up if I don’t,” you said with a shrug.

Jake let out a loud laugh, but he nodded. “Alright, alright. I’ll try my best. But no promises.”

You just gave him a small, quiet smile, the kind that said you didn’t really mind at all. You were used to him talking. You didn’t have to say much, and that was enough for you.

Jake, of course, wasn’t done yet. He continued talking, but you didn’t mind. You were happy with the silence of just being around him, listening to him speak while you kept your thoughts to yourself. It was like this every time. And maybe, just maybe, you were okay with it.

The next tutoring session came, and you couldn’t help but notice how much it had become part of your routine—Jake talking non-stop, and you sitting there, quietly listening, occasionally breaking into a smile or soft laugh when he said something that was just too ridiculous.

You had been staring at him again, your eyes tracing the way his hands moved as he tried to explain something he barely understood, and how his hair always fell into his face when he leaned forward in his chair. He wasn’t the best at math—if you were being honest, he barely understood half of it—but his enthusiasm made it… bearable.

“And then,” Jake was saying, gesturing wildly with his pen, “if you… wait, no, that’s not right. I meant—uh, okay, so this is just like that time when my brother messed up the barbecue, right?” He was halfway through explaining something entirely unrelated to the subject at hand when he paused and caught your gaze.

You were staring at him again, your eyes narrowing slightly as you tried to focus, but you couldn’t help it. Something about him was just so… distracting.

“What?” Jake asked, looking a little sheepish. “You think I’m being ridiculous again?”

You just giggled softly, shaking your head. “You’re really something, you know that?”

Jake grinned, leaning back in his chair, not at all fazed by the fact that he was constantly derailing your tutoring sessions with random anecdotes. “Yeah, I know. But you still like it, don’t you?”

Your eyes flicked away for a moment, a faint blush creeping up your neck as you tried to hide your smile. “You’re lucky I’m a good tutor,” you muttered under your breath, though the teasing tone didn’t quite cover up the warmth you felt.

“Ha! I knew it!” Jake pointed at you, practically jumping out of his chair. “You’re laughing! I’m winning!” He flopped back into his seat, satisfied with himself.

You couldn’t help but giggle again, trying to cover your mouth but failing miserably. His infectious energy was impossible to ignore, and you didn’t even want to.

The conversation veered off track again, and you found yourself caught up in his rambling, but this time, you didn’t mind. You didn’t feel the need to speak much. You just listened, occasionally laughing or shaking your head, all the while staring at him.

For once, it wasn’t frustrating. It wasn’t just noise. It was… nice. A quiet kind of chaos that you were starting to get used to.

The session ended with you both finally making a little progress on the homework, even if most of it had been distracted by Jake’s usual stream of consciousness. As you packed up your things, you realized that the time had passed quicker than you’d expected, and you didn’t want it to stop. Maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind the talking as much as you thought.

“Same time tomorrow?” Jake asked, still talking a mile a minute, but this time, you didn’t feel the need to shut him up.

You looked at him, giving a small smile, and just nodded.

“Fine,” you said quietly. “But try to get some work done, kay?”

Jake grinned widely. “No promises, but I’ll try.”

And you couldn’t help but laugh softly again, watching him grin and talk a little too much as you walked out of the room together.

I love jake sm bro | req open - masterlist | read part two here

[sludgewolf]

How they nap with you - Invincible cast

Characters: Mark Grayson, Samanta Eve, Rex Splode, Shrinking Rae, William Clockwell, Powerplex, Mohawk Mark, Sinister Mark x reader (separately) Masterlist Invincible Masterlist Disclaimer: do not copy, repost, take or feed to AI or NFTs anything I post

Mark Grayson / Invincible

Mark mostly sleeps on his back with arm holding you close

Recently he started having more restless sleep, moving around a lot, doing small jerky movements with his arms, kicking in his sleep

and even having nightmares that wake him up in the middle of the night searching for you

Can't seem to sleep well unless you're by his side

you feel guilty for even getting up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night just to come back to a sad Mark sitting on your bed waiting for you to return

Samanta Eve / Atom Eve

Due to her powers Eve isn't one that likes to have loads of blankets or pillows as she sleeps

her body is like a mini star from how hot she usually runs

so her preferred sleep position is far from romantic, which is butt to butt

just enough contact to assure each other that you're there but no grabbing unless you want to wake up as if you just ran a marathon

and you also run the risk of her snoring from sleeping in a weird angle

nothing really bad, but if you're awake you might hear it

Rex Splode

Now Rex may've had gone through some major personal growth since his very close brush with death,

but sleeping Rex didn't

sleeps like a starfish smack in the middle of the bed no matter what you do

if you do choose to share a bed tho he will sleep on top of you, arms spread and snoring loud

in the off chance you can wake him back up Rex will practically jump off you apologizing profusely, promising to not do that again

but no matter what, in the morning you still wake up in the same position

and no matter how big the bed is, Rex will still seek you out in his sleep to crush you with his body

Rachel / Shrinking Rae

Rae enjoys sleeping on her side, blankets only over her waist holding you close

She doesn't snore nor move much from that position, once she's asleep she's out

one of the best napping partners tbh

though you do need to get used to her shoving her face in your chest as she sleeps

William Clockwell

William is a true sweetheart, always considerate but brutally honest when needed

that's not him when sleeping

When asleep will is so selfish and he doesn't even realize

he has the horrible habit of hogging all the blankets, leaving you to freeze in your cold dorm room

just to later on kick them all off the bed

once he gets cold again he smushes you against the wall, spooning you like a koala

he just isn't the worst bed mate because his hugs are the best there are

Scott Duvall / Powerplex

Scott used to be an angel in his sleep, didn't move much, no snoring, knew how to share blankets

but since his sister and niece tragic passing it all changed

now Scott is restless, he moves a lot during his sleep, sometimes even waking you up with it

he also sleep talks, which is kinda funny when you can hold a whole conversation with him but not so much when you absolutely need to sleep

Not to mention his frequent nightmares that wake him up in tears, always repeating that day as if torturing him in his sleep

For both of you to have a proper night of sleep you need to hold him still with a death grip to help him calm down

and also to prevent him from accidentally slapping or zapping you

Mohawk Mark

Pushes you off the bed as soon as your guard is down and laughs at your surprised yelp of pain

if anyone even thinks of doing anything similar to you he'll rip their arms off and torture them until they die the slowest most agonizing death he can think of

Sinister Mark

don't

[mariasont]

short n sweet but we need one where spencer loves head scratches and getting his hair played with

Heart Nebula - S.R

summary: spencer tells you every atom in your body was once part of a star, but you think he's the celestial wonder worth studying. pairings: spencer reid x reader warnings: fluff galore, existentialism, star-gazing, astrophysics inaccuracies im so sure wc: 2.1k

"You'd be so proud of me today, you know."

You scoot closer, disrupting the careful folds of the blanket. The fabric bunches beneath your legs, damp soil seeps through, not quite wet enough to be a problem, but enough to make you aware of it. A blade of grass tickles stubbornly at your ankle. You wiggle your foot once, twice, it stays. Some things do.

Your pinky grazes his, the barest of contact, but he turns his head anyway. The night seems to fold him in shadow, softens his features, makes him look almost ethereal. His eyes give him away, glinting back at you, tiny shards of cosmos blinking back at you. It should be impossible to feel jealously of the sky, and yet.

"Yeah?" The familiar crease settles between his brows, a well-loved marker in the pages of him. His head tilts, waiting, not impatiently, already certain he's going to love your answer. "Why's that?"

Your smile jumps ahead of you, swells into one of those too-big-for-your-face grins. The kind that crinkles your nose, bunches your cheeks, makes your face ache after a while.

"I learned about a nebula."

Spencer's laugh starts in his chest and works its way out, rattling through his ribs, shaking his shoulders, until the momentum knocks his knee into yours.

"Look at you," he says, all teasing admiration. "I am proud. Which one?"

"I think It was called the Heart Nebula?" You glance at him, waiting, watching, half-hoping that he'll recognize the name, that he'll give you that little nod of confirmation.

He does. You beam.

"I saw a picture earlier, and it was just—," You trail off, eyes tipping upwards, letting the sky steal whatever poetic explanation you were about to give. "I don't know. Too beautiful to be real."

Spencer had been so excited when you told him you wanted to stargaze, his eyes had practically glowed, already rattling off a dozen facts about atmospheric conditions and celestial visibility, and why tonight was perfect.

He barely took a breath before he had been launching into a dozen more reasons, winding himself up so tight with words that the only way to release them, apparently, was kissing you. Feverishly.

Like he had no other way to translate his excitement into something tangible, something felt.

It made you want to promise him everything, to tell him you'd do this forever, that you'd let him drag you under the stars a thousand times over if it meant being kissed like that.

Spencer glances at you, his mouth twitching like you've just said the punchline to a joke you don't realize you're telling. You're here, waxing about a sky full of ancient light, calling the Heart Nebula too beautiful to be real, and he's looking at you like you've missed the most obvious part.

You narrow your eyes, but he only shakes his head, like whatever crossed his mind was his to keep.

"The Heart Nebula is full of newborn stars," he tells you, gaze still pointed on the sky. "Their radiation makes the gas glow red, pink. The whole thing shifts under stellar winds, reshaping itself, over and over again."

His voice wades its way through the parts of your brain, finding its place. He has this way of explaining things, of turning something infinite into something intimate. 

And you love that. Love how he does that. Love the way he sees things. Love him.

"It's about 7,500 light-years away. Which means the light we're seeing now left before humans even figured out agriculture." A small, disbelieving laugh escapes him. "By the time it reaches us, whatever we're looking at doesn't exist the same way anymore. It's already changed. Probably unrecognizable."

His fingers twitch against his thigh, probably resisting the urge to gesture. "Space is weird like that."

"I don't know, Spence," you tease, fingers pinching the sleeve of his shirt, catching just enough of him to feel real. His dimple carves into his cheek and your heart stumbles, caught between beats. "It kind of sounds like you're telling me I can't trust my own eyes."

"Well, technically you can't." He turns fully toward you, dimple still firmly in place, eyes flicking, too quickly, too obviously, to your lips. "The human eye takes in scattered bits of light, and your brain—" he taps your temple for emphasis "—fills in the blanks. Adjusts for shadows, alters colors based on what it thinks is there. Your eyes are compulsive liars."

He pauses, tiling his head, considering. "And since our perception is limited by our optic nerves, no one really sees their own eyes the way others do. Which is a shame, because if you could see yours the way I do, you'd understand why I can't help but stare."

There are moments when Spencer says something so casually devastating that your brain just empties, and this is absolutely one of them. Your mouth opens, then closes again.

"That's—" Your voice catches, so you clear your throat, shake your head, try to reassemble your thoughts. "That's a really unfair thing to say, you know."

Spencer blinks, like he’s running back through the conversation in real time, replaying his own words to figure out what, exactly, made you forget how to breathe. 

"Why?"

"Because some of us have a very delicate hold on their emotional stability, and you—” you point at him, accusing “— just shattered it in two sentences."

"Technically, that’s the limbic system at work. The amygdala controls emotional reactivity, but the prefrontal cortex tempers it."

You would try to unpack that, really, you would, but then his hands find your waist, and suddenly the ground isn't where you thought it was. You gasp, giggle, crash right into him, catching yourself with shaking hands against his chest.

"So really," he continues, as if you aren't sprawled across him, "if your emotional stability was shattered, you should blame your neural pathways, not me."

Your fingers twist in his hair as you lean in to kiss him, deeply and thoroughly, like proof, like inevitability maybe, a thought forming in real time, one you can press straight into his skin. 

"Maybe my neural pathways are just adapting to something worth remembering," you whisper, and the way he stills, the way his lips part just slightly, makes you think you might not be the only one.

Spencer makes a small, pleased noise against your lips, something that was half sighed and smiled, and you feel it, all of it, in the way his throat moves beneath your fingertips as he swallows.

"That... might be my favorite use of neuroscience yet."

You flash him a grin. "And you thought I wasn't paying attention when you ramble."

"I should've known you'd find a way to weaponize it."

You let your full weight settle onto him, chin perched on his chest, his heartbeat a slow song beneath your cheek. Your fingers slip into his hair, threading through soft strands, nails scraping lightly over his scalp, testing a theory you already know the answer to.

Yeah. Definite reaction.

"So that's what it takes, huh?" you tease, lips curling against the material of his shirt. You scratch again to be sure, and his next breath comes slower. "Just a well-placed brain chemistry reference?"

"From you? Yeah, that'll do it."

"Noted." A pause. Then, softer. "Keep talking to me about space."

"You know, you're kind of demanding." Spencer's fingers skate along your waist before he squeezes, firm and quick, like a punctuation mark to his sentence. 

Your head lifts, eyebrow quirked, fingers hovering just out of reach, close enough for him to feel the absence. "Excuse me?"

His smirk vanishes instantly, wiped clean, replaced by something perilously close to distress. His hands twitch at your waist, fingers moving like he can pull you back, like he can make you continue if he just wants it badly enough.

"Wait, wait, I was kidding," he rushes out, voice just shy of frantic. “Don't stop."

You grin, tilting your head like you're considering it. "Hmmm. Apologize."

"I—okay, I'm sorry, you're perfect, please—" his breath hitches, his laugh a little wild, a little helpless, "please keep going."

You giggle, fingertips weaving back into his hair. His response is immediate, a low, shaky sound that buzzes against your skin, something so content it makes warmth spreads through you like a lit fuse, spilling all the way down to your toes.

Spencer smirks, fingers drumming against your waist.

"You really don't let a guy off easy, do you?" He pauses for a second, glancing past you at the sky like he's taking in his options.

"Alright. Here's a fact you might like, every single part of you was once part of a star. All the heavier elements in your body, oxygen, carbon, nitrogen, they were formed in the core of ancient stars, forged under immense heat and pressure, then scattered across the galaxy when those stars died, reforming."

His words drift to you, but you don't catch them all. You're too busy watching him.

Out here, in the absence of light pollution, you can see him more clearly than ever. The starlight doesn't just touch him, it claims him, dusting his skin in silver, catching in his lashes, turning the slopes of him almost unreal. Like if you blink too long, he might disappear, slip back into the night where he belongs. A constellation carved into the shape of a person.

You used to think brown was such a simple color. But then you met him, saw his eyes, now it's in everything. Wet earth after rain, cinnamon dusted over coffee, burnt sugar on your tongue.

And now, he’s teaching you it’s also carbon and oxygen forged in the cores of dying stars, pieces of the galaxy that had traveled billions of years to become chocolate flecks on a beautiful face.

He was right, it is a shame people never see their eyes the way others do.

"But how?" you ask. "Like... how does something go from being part of a star to being part of us?"

Spencer exhales softly and you can see the way he loves the question.

 "It's a long process. Billions of years, actually. When a star explodes, it sends all those elements out into space. They mix with other interstellar material, forming new stars, planets, and eventually..." He taps a gentle finger against your stomach. "You."

"That's kind of incredible."

Spencer huffs a quiet laugh, grinning, that beautiful grin, the one that makes your chest feel too small for your heart. His fingers find your temple, trail gently down to your cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Then, without pause, he leans in and presses the gentlest kiss to your nose.

"It is," he murmurs, thumb brushing against your cheek. "We're built from pieces of space, borrowed, passed down, stitched together by time."

"So you're saying we've been part of the same universe forever? That's kind of romantic, Spence."

"It's also backed by astrophysics. Science just happens to be romantic sometimes. "

"Well, good," you murmur, pressing a kiss to his neck. "I like knowing there's proof... but I think I would've believed it anyway."

You barely have time to register the flicker in his eyes before, he moves. In a second, you're on your back, the sky stretching endlessly behind him. The stars flicker, countless and beautiful, but right now, they might as well not exist.

Because all you see is him.

He hovers over you, gaze intent, studying you, like you're a phenomenon he never expected to witness up close. Like he's sure now, more than he's ever been about anything. Like you are the discovery of a lifetime.

"The universe has been expanding for 13.8 billion years," he murmurs, fingers trailing along your jaw. "But I don't think it's ever made anything more beautiful than you."

Heat blooms beneath your skin. "More than the Heart Nebula?"

It should sound like teasing. It doesn't.

Spencer exhales, almost like he's amused by your doubt.

"The Heart Nebula exists purely because gravity and radiation dictate that it must. But you..." His gaze softens. "You exist because of a thousand tiny impossibilities stacking on top of each other. The odds of you, of this, are so astronomically low that it shouldn't have happened at all."

Spencer just looks at you for a moment. You don't move, don't breathe. And then he kisses you.

It crashes over you, stealing your breath before you even realize it's happening. His hands tighten at your sides, pulling you closer, like the space between you is unbearable. It's not rushed nor desperate, but it is consuming, the kind of thing that makes it impossible to think of anything else.

When he breaks away, he doesn't go far, forehead resting against yours. "If the universe was capable of making something more beautiful, it would have done it by now."

And maybe that’s true. Maybe the universe, for all its galaxies and nebulae and infinite expanse, never did anything better than this. Not just you, but you and him together. 

Or maybe the universe will never quite get it right again. Because maybe this was its best work.

But it won’t stop trying. It never does. Even after you’re gone, even after you and Spencer are nothing but scattered atoms, the universe will keep going. Creating. Expanding. Changing. New stars will be born, dust will settle into something new, planets will form, galaxies will stretch apart. And maybe, somewhere, the pieces that were once you and him will find their way back to each other. And maybe, if the universe has any kindness left in it, they’ll get to love like this.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[deebris]

From annoying to beloved

Homelander x fem!Reader

Synopsis: The new member of the Seven annoys Captain Patria with their habit of doodling in the corners all the time, but he didn't expect to end up liking it.

During the fourth season, it can be read as both romantic and platonic.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of murder, the reader has the power to control plasma, fluffy.

The reader is also kind of anxious.

Word count: 2.9k

"You gotta be fucking kidding with me." Homelander interrupted abruptly upon hearing snores in the room. "Is Noir sleeping?"

"Mmhmm," Firecracker murmured in agreement, but the masked superhero jolted awake when The Deep kicked his chair.

"Oh, shit! Sorry, guys." Black Noir straightened up, while the Captain shook his head in disbelief, unable to fathom what he had just witnessed.

"Ah, what the fuck." The blonde furrowed his brows, eyes darting around the room quickly, then fixing on a specific point when something else caught his attention. He had noticed you earlier with a notebook and pencil, but now you're not writing but drawing. The irritating sound of the graphite scraping against the paper had been bothering him for some time, but he had tried to ignore it, assuming as a newcomer you were taking notes.

He wouldn't lie. Though he found taking notes utterly stupid, he liked to think someone was that focused on what he said. Not that he needed it, just opening his lips and everyone would be watching him. But as if that weren't enough, he finally realized you were dressed in regular civilian clothes.

"Radiance, where's your suit?" He asked slowly, but angrily. "Can't anyone do anything right around here?"

You finally tore your attention from the paper, meeting Homelander gaze directly. It's not that you weren't paying attention—in fact, you were, maybe more than anyone else there. It was easier to absorb things while doodling, a way to calm your nerves. Well, that or rubbing your sweaty fingers together until they hurt.

No one ever understood. Even back in school, your parents used to receive complaints about you drawing during class, no matter how high your grades were or the fact that you were the top student.

This was your first meeting with the Seven, and the last thing you wanted was to give the impression of being careless or not caring about being there. It could be said that one of the best days of your life was yesterday when Vought sent you a notice, letting you know that the greatest superhero of all had personally chosen you to join the team. After so many "retarded" - in his words - he had been forced to accept into the Seven, Homelander saw in you, above all, the opportunity to make up for Firecracker's ridiculous weakness.

When Ashley began talking about your powers, he had no doubt the last spot was yours. It was simply brilliant. Who the hell would have imagined someone would have powers to control a state of matter? You could maneuver fire, generate electrical discharges, disrupt magnetic fields, and damn it, you could split atoms as if slicing butter.

Vought's scientists said they didn't know if it was possible, but you could destroy the damn out of a star one day. Homelander wasn't a science guy, but in one of his moments of boredom, he got curious and did some research. He didn't even know that plasma crap was all that, he thought it was a cell thing or whatever.

He always thought someone with a power as peculiar as yours, and at your age, would be arrogant or just plain dumb. But you were actually the complete opposite. You didn't speak unnecessarily, and while you seemed very aware of your own actions, you had no clue how powerful you were, or perhaps ignored that fact. The blonde thought you were an idiot for it, but he appreciated the inferiority you submitted to, especially in relation to himself.

"I don't have one, sir," you replied to his question, feeling small with everyone looking.

"What the hell?" He continued, focusing on you with incredulous voice, he couldn't believe it. How did someone end up here without even having a superhero suit?

The truth was, you had never been part of any team before, nor had you received any sponsorship during your life, or even attended Godolkin University. The only thing you had were your powers, which were indeed impressive. You never chased after any position, nor were you ever obsessed with being a famous superheroine, but lately you thought it would be a good adventure to radicalize your life. That's when you applied to join the Seven.

"How do you have a name and not have a fucking suit?" He asked, boiling with anger, fists clenching tightly behind his back.

"They gave me a name when I filled out the application," you answered honestly. That day, after they chose to call you Radiance, a random and easily commercial name, you couldn't complain much and didn't want to bother, so you left it at that.

"You'll be introduced as an official member of the Seven tomorrow, how do you not have a suit?" He took his hands off his back, moving them as he spoke to express his confusion, and for a few moments you followed it movement like a child who can't keep their attention on anything for long. "Who's handling your marketing?"

You couldn't answer, so you stayed silent and no one else dared to say a word either. You had no idea who was handling your marketing, not knowing you should even have that. You glanced quickly around the table, perhaps seeking some kind of help for the situation, but everyone looked down when they realized you were staring at them. They were enjoying themselves, and that made you exhale through your nose in embarrassment.

"You know what? Fuck it, doesn't matter." Homelander brought his fingers to his furrowed forehead, letting out a loud sigh as he calmed down. "Just... don't show up like this in public until someone gives you a suit."

"Yes, sir," you replied tensely, relieved that he had resolved the matter.

Sister Sage widened her eyes in relief when she finally saw the superhero sitting beside her. She opened her mouth to begin speaking, as she had intended from the beginning, but when some sound was about to come out of her mouth, Homelander spoke to you again, this time pointing an accusatory finger at you:

"And stop drawing, damn it," he ordered, causing you to slowly drop the pencil on the table, as if caught doing something wrong with the weapon of the crime in hand. You stared at your lap throughout the entire meeting, embarrassed for messing everything up on your first day.

When the meeting ended, you followed most people out of the room, but stopped nearby in one of the hallways. You slid down the wall, crouching in a hidden corner, and lightly tapped the sketchbook against your forehead in annoyance.

"Stupid," you murmured softly to yourself. It was so ridiculous, yet it embarrassed you so much. Maybe this first day wasn't so bad after all. You would have plenty of time to prove your worth to everyone, no need to dwell on this situation. Even though you had been corrected in front of some of the most iconic supers by Homelander himself, this situation could be overcome. It was thinking about it that kept you from letting the burning tears fall.

"I can hear you whining," Homelander voice made you jump to your feet, startled to be caught once again doing something you shouldn't. He didn't seem happy, and his expression was so intimidating that you felt like Mariah Carey performing for a crowd of Eminem fans.

He approached you in slow steps and you held the sketchtebook protectively to your chest, as if that could protect you from something. He glanced down to briefly see the object in your hands and looked at you with disgust.

"If you don't straighten up, I'll kick you out. Got it?" Everything about him exuded threat. Maybe if he weren't so imposing and powerful, that sentence would have sounded a bit like the janitor from your old school scolding you for spending too much time in the bathroom during class.

You were paralyzed standing there and all you could do was a nod. But your gesture made him more aggressive.

"Answer with your mouth. Are you mute or something?" And there he was, hands behind his back again. He seemed to enjoy that pose.

"I won't mess up, sir," you said, swallowing your saliva.

"And get rid of that. Or burn it, do whatever, just get rid of it. And I better not see you with that again," he said referring to your notebook, walking away faster than before. "These kids..." you heard him mutter distantly.

After that happened, you didn't destroy the sketchtebook, but you were afraid of being caught and kept it safely tucked away in the back of a drawer in your room. What the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel, right? You mentally made a promise to yourself not to use it anywhere else but here, to avoid causing more trouble.

It's been a week since you've been with the Seven, and several strange things have happened. You quickly realized that Homelander wasn't the pristine and merciful hero everyone believed him to be. But the truth was that deep down you already expected that. Everything about heroes always seemed too perfect and pure, there had to be a catch. Despite everything, you still remained yourself, never intentionally hurting anyone or getting involved in murders and conspiracies.

You were comfortable helping out with some minor crimes that Vought sent you to solve, but by now you suspected that sooner or later Homelander would ask you to do some of his atrocities. It was still hard to think about how to feel about it, but you weren't naive, you were already mentally preparing to submit to it or else be killed.

During that time, as you adjusted and interacted with the team, it didn't go unnoticed by Homelander that you were drawing on your own hand, or on napkins and on random sheets you found lying around, even though you hadn't shown up with your sketchtebook again. This was starting to wear on his last nerve, but he tried to ignore it. As long stayed as you were, without asking too many questions and obedient, he made an effort to continue overlooking your makeshift drawings.

"Meeting's over," the blond suddenly declared, interrupting another of the Seven's weekly gatherings while cutting off The Deep's rambling about his ideas.

"But I haven't even talked about the flying shark yet," he tried to defend himself.

"Shut up," Homelander's voice rang out sternly in the room, issuing a warning that the man promptly obeyed.

"Right. Meeting's over." Ashley nervously moved to gather the portfolios on the new soda advertisement she had come to present, but as soon as she touched the first folder, specifically the A-Train one, the superhero exploded in rage:

"Ashley! Get out!" She immediately dropped the folder in place and hurried out in her heels, unable to run in them. "All of you! Get out of here."

Everyone got up from their chairs, even you, and filed out through the front door, leaving the folders on the table. Sister Sage hesitated, thinking she might be an exception, but when his scowl deepened, she understood she should leave too.

With the room empty, Captain Patria took a few minutes to admire the view from the tower. He enjoyed staring at it sometimes, even when bored.

"Bunch of idiots," he muttered to himself, shaking his head in denial, indignant. If he had to spend one more minute with these morons, he would have a heart attack, even though that was technically impossible for him.

He threw his cape back as he turned to leave, looking down and not focusing on anything in particular. But his eyes caught something different from the other folders. It was obviously yours, with a huge drawing covering the text and images printed on it.

That was the first time he actually saw something you had scribbled. And damn, it was perfect. It was a drawing of everyone in the room, with him in the center looking angry. Just as he was. His ego flared up as he noticed that his figure was more detailed than the others'. You must have started drawing him first, hence had more time to detail him. The idea of you making him the main focus of this particular drawing made his pupils dilate. He used his super hearing to check if anyone else was around and secretly took that sheet for himself.

The next time he saw you drawing in the Seven's room, he couldn't help but wonder if you were drawing him again. As soon as he noticed you sneakily reaching for a pen that belonged to Ashley, he looked in your direction. The noise that used to annoy him now sparked curiosity. And after staring at you for so long, it didn't take long for you to look back at him too. The blond thought you would be embarrassed, like most people, but you just grinned as if you were used to being caught looking. And indeed, you were.

You began drawing Homelander more frequently when you realized he never caught you watching him. It was easier and avoided awkward situations with other people. After two whole weeks of drawing him continuously while taking advantage of this freedom, you felt capable of drawing his face without even needing to see a photo, having memorized most of his distinctive features.

Well, it seems he's finally noticed you.

Sometimes, when alone in your room, you took out your sketchbook and started practicing the memory of his facial features you had developed. Just like every other time, you became absorbed in the drawing, focusing only on the voices around you to understand what was being said. This was also a way to keep yourself engaged during conversations, so you wouldn't get restless from being still while being a mere spectator of everything. After all, you never participated much or gave opinions; Deep already did enough for two.

The meeting had already ended, but you stayed in your chair, even as everyone else left, to finish just a part of the hair. You thought no one would mind, and then you would leave as usual, but a voice caught you by surprise:

"Can I take a look?" Homelander asked, for the first time, using a gentle voice beside you. His expression was enigmatic, somewhat relaxed, and shy at the same time.

You turned the stack of post-it notes, also taken from Ashley, for him to see what you had drawn, fearing what he would say. You weren't ashamed of drawing people, much less of them catching you doing it. You feared because he found your habit annoying.

He observed the drawing, seeing his posture from the side, upright and imposing. He wondered if you drew him exactly as you saw him, or if it was just another caricature of reality, like those Photoshopped pictures spread around. He looked much better than he imagined, though he had that superiority complex that made him see himself as a god.

For a moment, he was offended to see his image stamped on such despicable things as scraps of paper and these damn post-it notes. Your fingerprints were also visible stains, and the paper was slightly wrinkled from his sweat. He had noticed that sometimes you drew calmly, as if you had all the time in the world, and other times it was like drawing on a boat in a storm. Today seemed to be the latter situation.

"Do you like drawing me?" He glanced at you.

"I do," you shrugged. That was the simplest and most truthful answer you could give. "Sorry, I won't do it anymore," you said, thinking he was bothered by it.

"Why?" He ignored your apology.

"You're drawable... I guess," you stared at the table, not understanding the flow of the conversation.

"And what the fuck does that mean?" He asked in a louder voice, turning to face you, obviously confused. "Is this some artistic shit?"

"It's just that you're easy to draw because you have unusual characteristics. It's a good thing," was your answer, and it inflated his chest with narcissistic pride. Unusual, that's what you said, but to him, it was like being called extraordinary.

"Next time you draw me, try using a sketchbook," he said sternly, pretending to reject your work, but deep down, he just didn't want to show that he really liked it. That statement was his way of encouraging you to continue, but at the same time, it was so ironic, considering he got mad at you just when you were drawing him in the sketchtebook that day.

"But you asked me to get rid of mine," you said simply, your voice dwindling with each word of the sentence, not wanting him to find out that you had never thrown it away.

"I'll get you a new one," he said dismissively, taking the entire stack of post-it notes with him, including the drawing, as if you wouldn't notice.

[tiramissyoucake]

Hear me out, Omnimark told Atom Eve “I've always hated you” and my mind keeps thinking that the reader of the Omnimark universe rejected it because she knew Eve's feelings for the Mark of that universe, if she had confessed to the reader she would probably have rejected it with “I don't want to get between you and Eve” or “I don't want to hurt Eve's feelings, she's my friend and I'm sure that if you gave her a chance you won't regret it!” And from there, Omnimark developed hatred towards Eve by ruining his girl's head and preventing them from being together 😭😭

GOOOODDDDDDD. HERES AN OVERLY EXCITED BLURB

It was like a knee jerk reaction, seeing her of all people invoked a deep-loathing he thought he satiated ages ago, but no. Breaking her leg wasn't enough, she needed to die here as well.

"I've always hated you." It felt so good to admit it out loud, to the rubble, to the crushed asphalt, to whoever was around, he remembered it like it was yesterday.

"I really like you, Mark." A spark of hope. "I really do... but... don't you think you deserve someone who can keep up with you?" Your nervous expression made him melt. Wait. What?

"... keep up with me..?" He echoed, blinking as if that would clear up the confusion. "(Name), I don't understand."

His hand held yours tightly. You squeezed it gently. "I'm no hero, I'm not even affiliated with the GDA—"

"I don't care about that!" He quickly shot back, you didn't let up. "But you should! Mark, you need someone who... won't be a burden on you, someone strong like you.. like, I dunno... Eve..?"

... Eve? What the hell did Eve have to do with this? You couldn't hold back a small smile as you came closer. "Between you and me, I really think she likes you... so you should go for it!" Your tone was so sweet, so happy to give him away to someone he didn't want.

"(Name), please-"

"I know it's weird, but please, Mark. Give her a chance. She's my friend and doing this with you..." Your hand loosened. He could feel you slipping away. "It doesn't feel right, you know how close we are! Her parents know me and everything!"

Always throwing away your happiness for others, his hand stood there in the air as you parted from him. "Trust me, it's better this way! For you two. And for me!"

'You two'. Him and Eve. Like it was pre-established in your head, like there was no chance to argue or change anything. He wasted no time after you left.

That heartbreak earned him a bloodbath, he was always calm and collected, never put his emotions before his job but he earned it, first was Eve, naturally, he was sure you'd be sad over your 'friend's passing but what kind of friend makes you give up happiness for them. Blinded rage, he didn't care if you claimed that you denied him of your own accord.

He wanted you. You. You. No one else.

Whatever members of whatever pathetic heroes team remained were next, as if first blood wasn't enough he went on a red-hazed rampage, he needed to let out the full extent of his anger before he'd come to see you.

And when he did, he looked like a nightmare, breaking into your home, blood that you knew wasn't his dripping on your floors as he approached you. "I confessed to you." He pants, fists clenched. "I laid my heart out for you." He leaned down to your trembling form, his hand outstretched. "I want your answer, not Eve's, no one else's." The blood soaked your cheek, labelling you an accomplice.

"... Eve.. where..." Oh, poor thing. You were so scared you couldn't get the words out, he shushed you and hugged you close, the metallic stench of blood filled your nostrils. "It's ok, no one will bother us, you can answer me honestly now."

[gloomwitchwrites]

For call of duty, can you write how 141 would react to you coming home after being announced KIA?

Love your work btw ❤️❤️

Not gonna lie, anon, but I genuinely read this as us reacting to the 141 coming home after being announced KIA, not them reacting to us coming home. I literally dumped everything I had planned and redid it because I missed that ONE word. (oops). Still, it's an emotional one. Your tears fuel me. :)

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Task Force 141!f!Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): angst, reunions, fluff, kissing, secret relationship, established relationship, grief/loss, swearing, mild humor, suggestive themes, mild sexual content

Word Count: 2k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

Reality isn’t fair. It’s not kind or forgiving.

A week gone and John is simply floating, going through the motions, simply existing. This is why you don’t date military while in the military. It’s shit like this. It’s being told the person you love is fucking dead and now you’re the one left to pick up the pieces.

There wasn’t even a body. Vaporized is what they told him. Instant and painless. You felt nothing. It’s a small comfort, but John would rather have you in his arms than knowing you’re nothing more than atoms.

He sighs, and then puffs on his cigar. Smoke curls around him. It’s all quiet on base. Everyone is gone other than the routine patrol. John sits alone in his office, looking for files for an upcoming mission.

There’s a soft knock on is office door.

“Come in,” he says, not knowing who it might be but it must be important for it to be this late.

The door clicks and then creaks as it opens. John glances up, the cigar halfway to his mouth before the world around him completely stutters to a halt.

A phantom—a vaporized phantom—stands just inside, one hand on the doorknob. You are unharmed—clean. No scratches or wounds that John can see and wearing civilian clothing.

John is already standing, already moving, unable to resist the urge to remain in his chair and write this all off as a delusion. The cigar is forgotten, probably burning a hole in the wood of his desk. You match the forward momentum, shutting the office door, reaching out to him. When his arms go around you, and pull you in, John realizes that this is not an illusion. You are real and alive and here.

“You’re dead,” he murmurs, disbelief in his tone.

“I know. And I’m so sorry. It wasn’t—”

John grasps the back of your neck in a harsh hold, pulling you in for a kiss. He silences your voice, only needing your warmth and taste. You melt for him perfectly, answering the kisses with your own. With a gruff groan, John presses you up against the closed door.

“John,” you mumble, pulling back slightly.

“How are you here?”

“I’m sorry. We had to. It was the only way to extract me safely.”

John presses his forehead to yours, breathing you in. “Never again. Promise me.”

“Promise, John.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

One. Two. Three.

The seconds tick by, and still, Kyle refuses to move. For the last two weeks, Kyle has been cold and distant, sitting in the recliner in the corner of the living room.

He doesn’t read, doesn’t return the numerous missed calls and text messages, and he doesn’t turn on the television. He just sits, staring off into space, unable to figure out where his life will go next.

Why you? Why are you gone and not him?

It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair. You should be alive and whole and happy. You should be home, wrapped in Kyle’s arms.

Kyle sighs, running his hands over his face. An overwhelming wave of grief bubbles up, threatening to rip a sob from him. Leaning forward, Kyle rests his elbows on his knees, cradling his face in his hands. He takes a deep, shuddering breath. The wave crashes against his resolve, eroding some of the numbness.

The coffin is empty. No body to bury. He still hasn’t contacted your family. He can’t do it. Can’t face them. That fact that he is here and you are not is a failure on his part. Kyle promised that he’d look after you, and now you’re gone.

Around him, the air stirs—shifts. Kyle rubs at his face, sudden awareness slipping in. There’s an anticipation in it—a tension.

“Kyle.”

That voice. He knows that voice.

Shaking his head, Kyle keeps his face covered, his breathing becoming ragged.

“You’re not real,” he gasps.

Phantom fingers lightly brush across the back of palm, traveling to his wrist. Another set join them, and two warm hands gently wrap around his wrists. They tug, and Kyle surrenders, glancing up at the delusion his consciousness is creating.

Your smile is a beacon in the dark. It is everything he’s dreamed up these aching days, only wanting to see you again. And this is no dream, this is the waking world—reality. Somehow, you are standing before him, grasping his wrists, smiling down at him with such happiness that Kyle doesn’t entirely understand how this could be possible.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Kyle.”

He’s standing, wrapping you up in his arms. There is no mistake. You are here. You are here.

Kyle murmurs your name over and over again like a mantra. He touches you everywhere, needing to know that every inch of you is real and not a figment of his imagination. You curl against him, tears forming, threatening to fall and stain your cheeks. Kyle kisses them away, grasping the sides of your face to steal your breath.

You melt beneath him, and Kyle’s only desire is to keep you near him, to relearn your every moan and whisper. He can get answers later. Later. Right now, you are here, you have returned to him, and that is enough.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny made the choice, and now he has to live with the consequences.

It’s his own fault for caring about you, for deciding that you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He should have found a civilian. That way they’d be mourning him and not him mourning you.

Three months and the missive still burns a hole in his chest. It’s folded up nicely, faded and worn from him unfolding and refolding it, tucked into an inside pocket beneath his bulletproof vest. It’s right over his heart. Right where you should be. Right where you belong.

The missive doesn’t belong to Johnny. It’s addressed to Captain Price, but the man handed it over to him, because he knew—even though Johnny did his best to hide it. He didn’t want to share what he had with you with anyone. That was just for the two of you.

“You all right, Soap?”

Simon’s voice cuts through the static.

“I’m aces, Lt. Don’t worry about me.”

The words feel false on Johnny’s tongue. He hates lying—but he especially hates lying to Simon.

Even behind the balaclava, Johnny can sense Simon’s frown. But the big bloke says nothing, appearing content with his answer.

“Price wants you in Conference Room B.”

“Now?” asks Johnny. “We’re supposed to transfer out in a few.”

Simon shrugs. “He didn’t say much. Just said he needed to talk to you before we leave.”

Johnny sighs but he goes, patting Simon’s arm before jogging to one of the main buildings. It’s inconvenient—and Price could have just met him on the fucking tarmac.

“What do you need, Captain?” says Johnny, pushing open the door.

Captain Price stands just inside the doorway. And he’s not alone.

At first, Johnny doesn’t understand. It’s like all but one singular bulb has been extinguished, the remaining light illuminating the one ghost in the room. Because that’s what you are. A ghost. Unreal and ethereal. Not reality at all but a simple hope in the back of Johnny’s mind that has finally blossomed into delusion.

“Soap.” Price’s voice is gruff. He sighs and then takes a step away from you. “I’ll leave the two of you to it.”

He brushes past Johnny, lightly squeezing his shoulder as he makes his exit.

And Johnny does not move. He stands in the doorway like a bloody git, unable to understand how you’re standing before him.

You’re dead. You’re supposed to be dead.

Your smile is hesitant at first, your movements even more so. It’s a tentative walk to him, and you don’t touch, you only gaze at him, eagerness and hope in your eyes.

“Johnny,” you breathe, and he knows that voice.

So crisp and clear and real.

Johnny reaches out, and pinches. He pinches your arms, your waist, your cheeks.

“Ow,” you laugh. “What the hell?”

You are not cold, but warm. Solid.

Johnny laughs in disbelief. “Had to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.”

Your arms go around him and suddenly, like a firework bursting with color, Johnny is happy and whole.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon shuts the front door and frowns.

Whenever Simon comes home, Bravo always greets him. The all-black German Shepherd is a singular ball of energy, turning in quick circles and tap tap tapping his paws against the hardwood in anticipation of back scratches and belly rubs.

For the past week, Bravo’s presence has been the one bright thing, the only bit of happiness keeping Simon going. The rest of it was snatched from him, torn apart and shattered, scattered to the wind. The letter is tucked inside the drawer of the bedside table. He only read it once. And once was enough.

You are dead. That’s what the letter says anyway. And it infuriates him more than anything. Every mission you’ve ever been on has been with Simon. Except this last one. And on this last one, you did not come home.

“Bravo!” shouts Simon, dropping his keys in the designated spot next to the front door.

Removing his coat, he hangs it up, and then kicks off his sneakers. Sighing loudly, Simon heads down the hall but Bravo does not emerge. Simon pokes his head into the living room and finds no dog. Kitchen, and still nothing. He even checks the backyard. No Bravo.

As Simon turns into the bedroom, he comes to an abrupt halt.

There’s Bravo on the bed, and sitting on the edge—

“You—”

You hold the letter in your hands, attention turning to Simon as he enters. Standing quickly, you extend the arm holding the letter while you bring a singular finger to your lips, implying silence.

Simon’s stomach flips, and then twists quickly. He moves across the room a couple strides, grasping your waist and pulling you close. He says nothing, only searching your face as you keep that finger pressed to your lips.

You flip the letter over to the blank side.

Compromised.

Everything clicks into place. Either you faked your death or someone lied.

Simon cups the side of your face as you drop your finger away from your lips. His mouth replaces, tasting and seeking, wanting to remember. You open for him, accepting it all. His hands tighten on your waist and it takes every ounce of Simon’s control to not throw you onto the bed and rut like an untamed beast.

But he does refrain.

Simon has the car loaded and the alarm system armed in ten minutes. Even on the road, Simon doesn’t speak. He’s not sure if he can. All he does is keep his hand on your thigh, squeezing tightly, attempting to ground himself and keep his focus on the road.

At the safehouse, Bravo takes off, running through the tall grass as you and Simon enter the barn through a small side door. The moment the bags are dropped onto the floor, Simon is on you, fisting your clothes, tugging at them in a need to seem them gone.

“Simon,” you groan against his mouth.

He wants answers. He needs to know what happened. But reconnecting with you is far more urgent.

“After,” he begs. “Please.”

You nod, understanding.

The two of shed your clothes quickly, falling onto the sofa in a tangled heap. Simon’s hand delves between, fingers finding your arousal. You’re ready for him—just as eager as he his. He makes no gentle effort, just a quick thrusts until he’s in to the hilt. Your brief gasp is swallowed up by his mouth, tongue delving inside for a taste as he starts to thrust.

This is what he needs. More than anything.

Talking can come after.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

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@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[sugusatosluut]

In every universe?

In every universe..

Synopsis: Angstrom Levy has caused mass destruction to the world by unleashing many invincible variants across your mainstream world. The remaining variants find out you’re alive in this universe and Mark takes matters into his own hands to protect you.

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, blood,

Mark breaking up with you was not on your plate of things you were expecting. You’d seen it coming from a mile away. He got with you, then shortly after being with you he had an awakening after Angstrom attacked his family. He spent most if not all his time with Eve Wilkins instead of you, his girlfriend. The one time you complained, he broke up with you. Not only did it hurt, but his choice of words weren’t something you could argue with. Not to mention, his unresolved internal conflict of having to choose you or Eve.

‘I just want to protect you, y/n. It’s better for both of us this way— just at least until I figure everything out.’

Those words were the last you would hear from Mark Grayson, that was until the third day following the attack of the Invincible Variants. They were dispersed across the world, violently killing and playing with their victims until they got bored and destroyed everything in their path. For three days they attacked and for those three days you didn’t hear from Mark. All you knew was that your town was under attack now. You were hiding out with William and his boyfriend, thanking the heavens that there was a clear path to your weirdly untouched apartment. On the way to your apartment a building collapsed, the bricks barely scathing you and William. You were both hurt though. A few cuts on William’s arm and a deep gash on your head. It wasn’t enough to stop you. You weren’t special and you weren’t a super, so you weren’t any help to begin with anyways. That didn’t stop you from trying to make sure the people closest to you and even Mark were okay.

Your mainstream Mark stopped in front of you.

“Y/n are you okay? God your head let me see.” He tried to see your wound.

“William needs help more than I do. Go see him.” You said pointing to William. Without any hesitation Mark went to check on his friend. You took advantage of that time to get away, seeking solitude as at least William and his boyfriend got to safety. Mark most likely would stop by after to get you to safety too… or would he just go fight with eve? You honestly couldn’t answer your own question or reassure yourself with confidence about this.. but this wasn’t about you. The world was in trouble. You made it to your apartment, breathless and your head was pounding still. The gash causing a horrible migraine.

Angstrom Levy was debriefing with the variants.

“I want this world in fear of invincible. I want everything he loves taken away from him. His mother, his brother, Atom Eve, that y/n girl..” he said. Immediately regretting that he slipped up. The fear in his eyes became evident when looking at the variants.

“Y/n’s alive?” Mohawk Mark had a look of utter regret and fear in his eyes.

Sinister Mark rushed in to grab Angstrom by the throat.

“You’re going to tell me where she is. You lie, I’ll know and I’ll kill you.” He said between gritted teeth.

All the Marks were sent into a panic. This was huge. The emotions were so intense. Most of them were dead, the remaining Mark’s now had only one mission. Find you.

“Don’t think she’ll be happy to see any of you.” Angstrom smirked.

Meanwhile in your apartment, you lied down on the couch, arms spread out and head tossed back with a wet cloth over your head. Your vision was just so blurry at this point it was useless to get up. You felt like you’d probably die. You closed your eyes, feeling a presence shortly after. You opened your eyes slightly, lifting the rag. You recognized the bottom of Mark’s suit just barely.

“Mark..?” You asked weakly.

You lifted the rag up higher, noticing it wasn’t your mark, it was sinister mark. Fear struck your heart, your body throwing itself off the couch. This felt like agony, you were already down and this could be your final moments. You struggled to move after falling off the couch.

“Y/n.. you look bad let me see it.” He said crouching on the floor to get closer to you. He reached out and you shut your eyes tightly. The fear paralyzing you. You shouldn’t be feeling this scared of mark but after what you’ve seen, you couldn’t help it. You were expecting to feel the weight of Mark’s strength crushing your throat but instead you felt his rough hands caress your cheeks. He took his gloves off to touch you.

“You’re okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He said. The shock of seeing you was more than enough for him to decide he wanted to stay.

“You hurt all those people- when you hurt people, you hurt me.” You said wincing.

Sinister Mark completely stopped what he was doing. You said it again.. you said it in his world before the Omni man in his world killed you in cold blood. He lifted the rag off your head.

Mohawk Mark and semi-long haired Mark arrived in your apartment as well. They looked timid, completely opposite of what you’ve been seeing. They came up to you, checking on you.

“She needs help. I’m not letting what happened to her happen again. I just can’t.” Semi long haired Mark said as he propped you up on the counter.

“I’m fine—“

“No! You’re not.” They shouted at you in unison.

You flinched.

Sinister mark tended to your head wound with the needle and thread you had in the kitchen.

“What the hell is this? Why are you acting like you guys didn’t just kill millions of people?” You asked.

“You died in my world—all of our world’s y/n. This is the only world you’re alive in. I came to bring you back home. It’s clear the Mark of your world is a complete idiot. What the fuck is wrong with him? You’re supposed to be with him, he’s supposed to be protecting you!” Mowhawk mark explained.

“Mark and I aren’t together anymore, he’s with eve, wait a minute— I’m dead?” You asked.

“Mhm” sinister mark said.

“In every universe?” You asked.

“In every universe.” Semi long haired mark said.

“He’s with eve? God I hate her, I’ve always hated her.” Mowhawk mark said.

“This is why you need to come home with me.” Mowhawk Mark sighed with a hand on his head.

“With you? She’d thrive better with me. She’s coming with me.” Semi long haired mark argued.

“No. She’s not leaving with either of you, she’s coming with me-“ sinister mark butted in

“Why? So dad can find her and kill her again in your world?” Mowhawk mark shouted.

The Mark’s strted to argue, leaving your wound dressed and treated, they started to argue more, the arguing turned to shoving and shoving turned into knocking out half of your building, you tumbled, falling out of the building and hanging on. You slipped, one of the Mark’s picking you up and saving you. It was Mowhawk Mark. Everything was fine until sinister Mark knocked you both out of the sky. They fought eachother as you plummeted, closing your eyes tightly hoping the impact would just kill you. A pair of arms grasped you tightly.

It was your Mark.

“You’re okay- you’re okay. Let me take care of this.” He said as he placed you down on the ground. It was fairly quick, he left you to kill both of them but they disappeared in a flash, Mark coming back to you quickly. He picked you up and held you tightly. In the heat of the scuffle between the mark variants, your wound reopened, blood was dripping down your head and your clothes were dirty and torn. Mark set you down in his bedroom, the two of you sitting in silence. Mark was standing, pacing trying to get you some clothes and a towel to run a shower for you. You showered and washed the blood off of you, mark tended to you carefully.

“Let me take care of you.” He said lowly.

Mark cleaned out your wound and fixed it up neatly. You were zoned out the whole time, letting him do whatever he needed to help you. He couldn’t do this anymore, the feeling was overwhelming. He needed to do this now especially after what just happened.

“I’m sorry y/n. It’s you and it always has been. I’m and idiot and I shouldn’t have tied myself up in how everyone else is expecting the future to go for me. I know what I want in my future and that’s a life with you. I shouldn’t have gotten upset with you, I should have chosen you. You have every right to be upset with me, but I want you to be in my life, I want you to be my wife and have my kids, I want that in our future. I could have lost you and that scares me. I cant live without you, you’re my soulmate a-a-and that’s okay if you don’t feel the same but that’s how I feel about you.” He whined.

You looked him in his eyes, those sweet deep puppy dog eyes of his. A part of you always knew that you and Mark would be in eachother’s lives in some way, but this was him saying he wanted it in the way that meant he’d protect you, that he’d be with you permanently.

Your slow blink worried Mark, his soft hands touching your cheeks. You closed your eyes, his hands were so soft compared to the other Mark’s. You melted into his touch with your eyes closing. He kissed your nose, then your lips softly. You were kissing eachother passionately, the warmth of his lips making you blush. Your body relaxed, opening for Mark to lay you down passionately. His touch burned with intensity. His kisses made your skin tingle as you had sudden flashes of the Mark’s that destroyed your apartment. This was your Mark, so why do you feel so intense?

You placed a palm on his waistband, sliding your hand down his pants. You held his hardness in your hands as he kissed you, repositioning your bodies so that you were on top of his own. You slid your shirt off, your boobs bouncing as Mark’s oversized shirt came off of your damp body. You were stark naked sitting on top of him. He looked at you in all your glory as you helped him remove his suit. He was holding your body closed, your chests smooshed together as you made out. Your wetness pooled, allowing him to slip it in with ease and comfort for the both of you. He groaned, giving you love bites and hickeys as you relaxed and allowed him to slam into you. You slipped your arms over his own and pushed him down into the sheets. His arms going above his own head. You were riding him intensely, but he was already so close. He grabbed your hips, locking them in his biceps as he slammed into you. You were both close now, Mark’s pants and huffs taking over the once noiseless room. He slowly ground his hips into you, the pulsing signifying that he was just so close. Your stomach tightened and your grip on his shoulders tight. You both came in complete silence as you dropped onto the bed next to him.

“I don’t want to be cliché but I love you. I always have and I always will. In every universe.” He said as he cuddled you, moving your hair out of your face and kissing your temple.

“I love you too Mark.. in every universe.”