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mssishipi · 5 months ago

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my boyfriend's in a band —pjs

SYNOPSIS: One second, you were telling a little lie to impress the cheerleaders, and the next, the whole school thought you were dating Park Jongseong—the cold, untouchable, and ridiculously hot guitarist. What started as a desperate move to boost your reputation took a wild turn when Jay decided to go along with it. Now, you’re caught up in nonstop gossip, awkward moments, and a fake relationship that feels a little too real—especially with Jay showing a surprisingly sweet side that no one, including you, saw coming.

content tags: fake dating, lots of fluffs, comedy, slight angst, strangers to lovers, reader is in 11th grade while jay is in 12th, (but both of them are over the age of 18) reader is short, jay smokes vape in the middle of the story, jay hates everyone lol. warning: profanities, mentions of sex, mild smut. WC: 14.7k

song used: same ground by kitchie nadal

note: thank you for the 95 followers!

You were a simple girl.

Simple, average, ordinary. Not the type to snag straight A's in every class, but not failing either. You were the kind of girl teachers barely noticed—just another name on the roll call, another face in the crowd.

You liked pink—just enough to keep it cute, but not the over-the-top glittery kind.

You didn't obsess over fandoms or have bags covered in pins and but you have figurines. Your style wasn't edgy or pastel chic or anything that made you stand out. You were... balanced. Plain. Normal.

Your high school life reflected that. Simple. Average. No exciting detours.

You weren't a sports star who got their name chanted in the bleachers. You weren't a science geek impressing everyone with your brainpower. You weren't a mean girl, a party kid, or a cheerleader.

Oh, but you wanted to be a cheerleader.

You wanted to wear that uniform, flip through the air, feel the rush of the crowd. You wanted the applause, the way everyone's eyes followed them when they walked the halls.

But no one cared about a normal girl trying out.

Reputation was everything in high school, and yours? Too simple. Too... forgettable.

You could cheer. You could dance. You could pull off a backflip, a split, the whole routine. You had the skills. What you didn't have was the image.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" one of the cheerleaders asked, her voice dismissive as you landed your final jump during tryouts. You stood there, panting, sweat dripping down your face after nailing the routine.

"A boyfriend?" you repeated, blinking, stunned. What did that have to do with anything?

"From football? Hockey? Maybe Math Olympiad?" she continued, her smirk curling like she already knew the answer.

You froze. Of course you didn't have a boyfriend. You were an NBSB—No Boyfriend Since Birth kind of girl. But how was that even relevant? You were here to cheer, not audition for a dating show.

"We'll let you know if you're accepted... or not," another cheerleader chimed in, her voice dripping with boredom. She wasn't even pretending to care about your performance.

You stood there for a moment, trying to steady your breathing, gripping your bag so tight your knuckles turned white. The sting of their indifference burned in your chest as you turned and walked out of the gym, sweaty and defeated.

Reputation doesn't matter, they always said. What a joke. High school was all about reputation—who you dated, who you were seen with, who you weren't.

And being a simple, average, normal girl? That just wasn't good enough.

It was a warm afternoon when you found yourself face-to-face with them again—the cheerleader tryouts.

So, before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out:

"My boyfriend is Park Jongseong."

The world seemed to stop for a second. All the cheerleaders froze, wide-eyed, jaws dropping like a scene from a poorly-scripted teen drama.

"Wait—Park Jongseong?!" one of them shrieked, her voice climbing several octaves. "The hot guitarist in the band?"

You nodded, keeping your expression sweet and innocent, careful not to let your fabricated lie crumble.

"Oh my god!" Another cheerleader nearly jumped out of her skin. "He's, like, the hottest guy in school! And so... mysterious."

"He's so cold, though," another chimed in, tilting her head suspiciously. "How did you even—"

You cut her off, spinning your web of lies before she could unravel it. "Oh, it just... happened," you said with a casual shrug, as if it were no big deal.

"We met at this café off campus. He asked me about my drink order, and, well..." You let out a dreamy sigh, painting a picture so vivid you could almost convince yourself it was real.

"He's so sweet. He cares about me so much. Like, he cooks for me when I'm tired, aftercare after sex, kisses me goodbye every morning, and—" You leaned in conspiratorially, lowering your voice to a whisper. "He even lets me touch his guitar."

The gasps that followed were almost deafening.

"No way!" one of them shrieked, clutching her chest in disbelief. "Park Jongseong doesn't let anyone touch his guitar!"

You nodded solemnly, as if sharing a sacred truth. "Well, he lets me."

For a moment, you thought you'd pulled it off. You were a star in their eyes, a girl who'd managed to capture the unattainable Park Jongseong's heart.

But deep down, you knew the truth.

Park Jongseong hate everyone, especially you. And honestly? You didn't blame him.

The first time you'd crossed paths, it had been a disaster.

You'd been drinking water at your locker when he appeared out of nowhere, walking right past you. Startled by his sudden presence, you'd choked, spraying water directly into his face.

His jaw had clenched, his eyes shutting as he took a deep breath, clearly fighting the urge to lose his temper.

"Sorry!" you'd squeaked, your face burning with humiliation.

And then, like the socially awkward creature you were, you'd bolted down the hallway, leaving him dripping and furious.

Then there was the incident in the music room.

You'd been poking around the instruments out of boredom, your fingers grazing the strings of a random guitar when—CRASH. Your foot caught on something, and the stand holding his prized guitar tipped over, sending it sprawling to the floor.

Right at that moment, the door swung open, and in walked Park Jongseong.

You froze like a deer in headlights, your heart dropping to your stomach as his gaze landed on his guitar, then on you. His face was unreadable, but the tightness in his jaw told you everything you needed to know.

"Uh... sorry?" you muttered, holding up your hands in a weak peace sign. Before he could say anything, you darted out of the room. You ran away, again.

And who could forget the volleyball incident?

You'd been practicing serves in the gym when he and his friends walked in. Your focus wavered for a split second, and the ball sailed in the wrong direction—straight into his face.

You gasped as blood began dripping from his nose. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" you stammered, panicking as he grabbed his face, clearly in pain.

Without thinking (or, honestly, with too much thinking), you did what you always did. You ran, again.

And now, standing here, spinning lies about a romance that didn't exist, you had to fight to keep your composure.

"Wow," one of the cheerleaders gushed. "I can't believe you and Jongseong are, like... a thing!"

"Yeah," you said with a forced laugh, clutching your bag tightly to hide how sweaty your palms were. "He's... amazing."

But in the back of your mind, all you could think about was how Park Jongseong would react if he ever found out about this.

And...The story spread faster than you could have ever imagined.

One second, you were fabricating a harmless little lie to impress the cheerleaders, and the next, the entire school seemed to think you and Park Jongseong were soulmates—or worse, a thing.

And not just any kind of "thing." No. The rumors had grown legs, arms, and a whole personality.

"Is it true that Park Jongseong is... like, huge in bed?" one girl whispered as you passed her in the hallway, her eyes wide with curiosity.

You choked on absolutely nothing, gripping your bag as if it might save you from spontaneously combusting.

Another girl caught up to you, practically skipping alongside you. "Oh my God, how was it? You know, with him? Is he all intense and broody like he looks, or does he have a soft side?"

You stared at her, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"He's... uh... great?" you stammered, mentally slapping yourself for sounding so unconvincing.

Her jaw dropped, and before you knew it, a crowd of girls—yes, the famous girls—was swarming you, each one louder and more persistent than the last.

"I can't believe you got him to date you!"

"Wait, wait, wait—did he really let you touch his guitar? Because I heard he doesn't even let his bandmates touch it."

"What's his favorite food? Does he let you steal his hoodies? Is he ticklish?"

"Is he actually the silent-in-public, wild-in-private type? Tell us everything!"

Your head was spinning. They were everywhere, and you couldn't escape. You tried smiling naturally, nodding here and there, but the panic bubbling inside you was threatening to explode.

"Oh my God, you're not even in the cheerleading pep squad yet? How dare they still not accept you!" one girl exclaimed dramatically. She flipped her hair with a loud scoff. "I mean, I saw your audition, and it was fucking amazing."

You blinked. She definitely had not seen your audition.

"Y-yeah, um... thanks," you muttered, clutching your bag tighter and taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

It was still early, but the hallway was packed. The questions kept coming, the voices growing louder, and you were just about ready to melt into the floor.

And then it happened.

You let out a tiny squeak as someone grabbed your arm, yanking you out of the circle of girls. You stumbled, blinking in shock, and turned to see who your savior—or captor—was.

Your heart nearly stopped.

It was him.

Park Jongseong!

Jaw sharp enough to cut glass, eyes darker than your worst nightmares, and hair falling messily across his forehead like he just stepped out of a photoshoot.

Except he didn't look like a model. No. He looked angry.

Like, furious.

Oh, you were so, so dead.

"S-see you later, girls!" you called out, your voice cracking as you tried to sound cheerful. You gripped his arm like your life depended on it, forcing a smile as he dragged you through the hallway.

The crowd erupted behind you.

"Oh my God, they're really together!"

"I knew it!"

"They're so cute! Look at how she holds onto him!"

Your face felt like it was on fire. You could feel every pair of eyes in the hallway locked on you as Jongseong stormed forward, his grip firm but not painful. You tried to match his pace, but his legs were longer, and you were practically jogging to keep up.

You tried to focus on breathing, but the more they talked, the more you wanted to just curl up and disappear.

Meanwhile, Jongseong hadn't said a single word. His jaw clenched, his eyes fixed straight ahead.

"Uh, Jongseong—"

Before you could finish, he yanked open the door to a small storage room, pulling you inside and shutting the door behind you with a loud click.

"Hey—what are you—"

"Shut up," he muttered, his voice low and sharp.

You blinked, startled. The room was small, cramped, and dimly lit by a single flickering bulb. Shelves stacked with cleaning supplies and dusty boxes surrounded you, and the air smelled faintly of bleach.

Jongseong leaned against the door, running a hand through his messy hair and letting out a frustrated sigh.

"What the hell?" he said finally, his voice laced with irritation.

You swallowed hard, gripping your bag like a shield. "I... I can explain?"

"Yeah, you'd better," he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes locked onto yours, and the intensity of his gaze made your knees feel like jelly.

"Why is everyone in this school convinced we're dating? And why," his voice dropped lower, "did I just hear someone asking if I'm good in bed?"

You winced. "Okay, so... it might've gotten a little out of hand."

He let out a bitter laugh, raising an eyebrow. "A little?"

You hesitated, trying to find the right words. "Look, I was just trying to impress the cheerleaders! They don't think I'm cool enough to make the squad, so I might've... um... made up a story."

His jaw tightened. "A story? About me?"

You gave him a weak, apologetic smile. "I didn't think it would blow up like this! I thought they'd just forget about it after tryouts!"

"Oh, yeah, because rumors about me always disappear quietly," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You bit your lip, your embarrassment growing by the second. "I'm really sorry. I'll fix it. I promise."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "How exactly do you plan to fix this? Everyone already thinks we're a couple. You should've thought about that before you opened your mouth."

"I know, I know!" you said, your voice rising slightly. "But I didn't think people would actually believe me! I mean, look at you! You're, like... you, and I'm just... me."

He stared at you, one eyebrow twitching. "What does that even mean?"

"It means no one would ever think you would date someone like me!" you blurted out.

There was a brief silence, Jongseong blinked, his expression unreadable.

"Wow," he said finally, his tone flat. "That's... depressing."

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. "I'm making this worse, aren't I?"

"Yeah," he said bluntly.

You peeked at him through your fingers, your voice small. "Can you... just not kill me, though?"

He rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath. For a moment, he looked like he was considering throwing you out the door, but instead, he leaned back against it, running a hand down his face.

"Here's what's going to happen," he said finally. "You're going to go out there, tell everyone you lied, and make sure my name is out of their mouths by the end of the day."

Your eyes widened. "I can't do that! If I tell them the truth, I'll look like a total loser! They'll never let me on the squad!"

"Not my problem," he shot back.

"Please!" you pleaded, grabbing his arm in desperation. "Just... let me ride this out a little longer. I'll figure out a way to fix it without dragging your name through the mud, I promise!"

He stared at you for a long moment. He let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Do whatever you want," he said finally.

Your eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Don't make me regret this," he added,

"I'll do anything!" you said quickly, your relief overwhelming your sense of pride.

His eyes flicked back to yours, and you swore you saw a flicker of amusement in his expression. "Anything?"

You hesitated. "Uh... within reason?"

He smirked, shaking his head. "Unbelievable," he muttered, pushing off the door and opening it.

"Wait, where are you going?" you asked, panicked.

"Class," he said simply, walking out and leaving you standing there, still clutching your bag like it might protect you from the fallout.

"Oh my God, they just came out of the storage room together!" someone squealed.

Your blood froze as a wave of gasps and murmurs rippled down the hallway.

"No way! They're so freaky!"

"They couldn't even wait until after school? A quickie in the storage room?!"

"That's so wild!"

You bolted out of the storage room, your face burning so hot it was probably visible from space. "It's not what you think!" you stammered, waving your hands frantically. "Nothing happened! I swear!"

But your protests only seemed to make things worse.

"Did you see her face? She's totally guilty!"

"God, no wonder he's so obsessed with her. She's probably insane in bed."

"Wait, so does this mean she's, like, not lying about them being a couple?"

The crowd erupted into a chorus of giggles, whispers, and scandalized gasps, and you felt your soul leave your body.

At the end of the day, you got the news: you were officially part of the cheerleading pep squad.

This wasn't exactly how you pictured it, but hey, you'd finally made it. You thought practice would be all about jumps, flips, and cheers, but instead, it was questions. Endless questions.

All about your "boyfriend."

By the time practice ended, you were convinced the squad cared more about Park Jongseong than they cared about cheerleading. It was exhausting. They made him your whole personality.

Now, you stood outside the music room, foot tapping nervously as you psyched yourself up. You needed to talk to him. Jongseong—Jay—walked out with his guitar slung over his back, his expression colder than a freezer. His eyes landed on you, sharp and annoyed.

"Why are you here?" he asked, as blunt as ever.

You forced an awkward smile. "Hi! Because... you're my boyfriend?"

Jay scoffed, walking past you like you didn't exist. Panicked, you scrambled to catch up, nearly tripping over your own feet.

"H-hey! Wait!" you called, gripping the edge of his jacket. "I'm Y/N! Please, for the second time, just hear me out!"

He stopped, turned, and stared at you with the kind of look that could burn holes in concrete. "What do you want now?"

You fumbled with your bag, your cheeks burning. "I just... I wanted to talk about—"

"Fuck off," he snapped, making you flinch and throw your hands up like you were bracing for impact.

"I'm sorry!" you squeaked, your voice small.

Jay sighed, running a hand through his hair as he shifted his weight. For a second, his eyes softened—but not enough to let you relax.

"I already let you use my name. What else do you want from me?" he asked, voice low and sharp.

You bit your lip, tapping your foot nervously. You'd practiced this speech in your head a hundred times, but the words suddenly felt scrambled.

"I just... I got into the cheerleading squad, but they keep asking me questions about you, and—"

His glare deepened. "After you spilled water on me, crashed my guitar, and hit me in the face with a volleyball, what more do you want?"

You gasped, offended. "E-excuse me?! Those were accidents!" you said, emphasizing the word with dramatic hand gestures.

"I didn't spill water on you on purpose! And I didn't crash your guitar—it fell! And your nose? Total accident!"

Jay's expression didn't budge. "Right. Keep telling yourself that."

He turned to leave, but you panicked again, grabbing his arm and walking beside him as fast as your shorter legs could go.

"Please, just help me for a little while longer!" you pleaded.

He glanced at your hand on his arm, then at you, looking like he wanted to throw himself into the nearest trash can. "You got what you wanted. Tell them we broke up or something."

You shook your head frantically. "No, no, no! I know I'm a loser for using your name, but I need to keep this up for a few more months!"

Jay's jaw tightened. "What now?"

"I just... need some information about you," you said, your voice small. "Like, your favorite color, or your hobbies, or—"

He cut you off with a groan. "Just make something up. You're good at that."

"But it sounds fake!" you whined, stomping a little like a frustrated child.

Jay stopped walking and turned to glare at you again. "And the story about the café and me being good in bed doesn't sound fake?"

Your cheeks turned crimson. "I-I didn't say anything about you being good in bed!" you squeaked, waving your hands defensively. "I just said you were good at, uh, aftercare! They're the ones who assumed the rest!"

Jay stared at you, his face unreadable, but the way his lips twitched told you he was this close to laughing.

"So, you want more information about me so you can answer their next stupid questions?" he asked.

You nodded eagerly. "Yes! Exactly!"

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "Like if I'm huge?"

Your brain short-circuited. "N-no!" you squealed, stepping back as your cheeks burned even hotter. "It's not like that!"

Jay smirked, adjusting the strap of his guitar as he stood up straight again. "Right," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Good luck with your cheerleading squad, girlfriend."

And with that, he totally walked away, leaving you standing there, red-faced and humiliated. But you weren't about to give up.

No way. You'd come too far and sacrificed too much pride to back down now. If groveling got you this far, then maybe going lower would get you what you needed.

So, you became... everywhere.

After his chemistry class, there you were, waiting outside the door with a bright smile and an awkward wave. "Hi! How was class? Did you learn anything interesting?"

He barely looked at you as he walked past, muttering, "I don't know, did you?"

At his band practice, you somehow sweet-talked your way in. His bandmates, thinking you were his girlfriend, welcomed you with open arms.

"Jay never told us you were so supportive," one of them said, grinning.

"Y-yeah! That's me! Super supportive!" you laughed nervously, while Jay sat in the corner, tuning his guitar, looking like he was plotting your demise.

But you stayed anyway, sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching him play with stars in your eyes. He was good—like, really good—and for a second, you almost forgot how much he hated you.

After practice, you walked out with him, chatting non-stop about your cheerleading routine. "So then Karina said I should try a - "

Jay, walking ahead of you, sighed heavily. "Do you ever stop talking?"

You froze for half a second before jogging to catch up. "Not really!" you said cheerfully, ignoring the withering glare he shot you.

During break time, you plopped down beside him in the cafeteria, chatting away about your practice. You didn't even realize you were rambling until he looked at you, his expression blank.

"Do you ever run out of words?" he asked, deadpan.

You blinked. "Uh... no?"

He groaned, rubbing his temples.

It wasn't long before your cheer squad started noticing things, too.

During one break, Yunjin leaned over, lazily plucking at her nails. "Your relationship seems so... one-sided," she said casually, enough to make your stomach drop.

"Eh?" you squeaked, your chest tightening with nerves. "W-what do you mean?"

Yunjin shrugged. "We never see you guys together. And when we do, he looks like he's about murdering someone."

You forced a laugh, your hands sweaty. "W-well, he's just... had a lot of bad days lately!"

"Jay's always having bad days when he's with you?" she shot back, raising an eyebrow.

"And you two don't even kiss in public," Karina added, leaning her chin on her hand.

Your throat went dry. "Uh, well, he doesn't like PDA," you said quickly.

The two of them exchanged looks but eventually shrugged, letting it go. You let out a quiet breath of relief, only to freeze when Karina clapped her hands.

"Y/N, you said you can do back handsprings, right?"

You nodded eagerly. "Yes! Do you need me to—"

"Great!" Karina stood, surveying the gym with a critical eye. "We need you to cover the entire formation during lifting. Can you do five in a row?"

Your eyes widened. "F-five?"

"Yeah, starting from over there." Karina gestured to the far side of the gym.

You forced a smile and walked to the starting position, nerves rattling in your chest. Everyone's eyes were on you.

You took a deep breath and started your back handsprings, nailing five in a row. When you landed, slightly dizzy, you raised your arms triumphantly.

"Hmm... it doesn't cover the right side," Karina said, tapping her chin. "Y/N, try seven this time."

Your smile faltered. "S-seven?"

They nodded.

You did as they asked, pushing through the dizziness, only to hear them call for more.

By the fourth round, you were practically collapsing mid-air. Ten was far too much, and by the end, your knees hit the floor hard, sending pain shooting up your legs.

"Oh, perfect!" Karina said, clapping her hands. "That covered the whole area. Great job, Y/N! But you need to work on your posture."

You winced, clutching your bruised knee as you shuffled to sit beside the others. The pain was sharp, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you forced a smile, trying to keep it together.

"I'm kind of craving boba tea," Karina said suddenly, standing up. "Who wants some?"

"Oh, me too!" Giselle chimed in, followed by the rest of the squad eagerly raising their hands.

"Perfect!" Karina said, pulling out a notepad. "Let's make a list."

A moment later, she shoved the list into your hands. "Here. And here's the money. You can go get it for us."

You stared at the list, dumbfounded. "Wait... me?"

"Yeah! Thanks, Y/N!" she said brightly, already turning to talk to Giselle about something else.

You blinked, standing stiffly as pain radiated from your knees. You didn't even have the energy to argue. Instead, you hobbled to the restroom first, tears spilling over as you washed your knees.

Violet bruises were already forming, and the cold water stung as it ran over the tender skin.

This wasn't what you'd imagined when you dreamed of joining the cheer squad.

You thought it would be glamorous—flipping in the air, cheering under bright lights, and finally belonging to something cool.

Instead, here you were, limping to a nearby boba shop with bruised knees and teary eyes.

Still, you told yourself it was okay. You were part of them now. You weren't just a simple girl anymore—you were a cheerleader. Their friend. It was normal to run errands and do things for your friends, right?

So why did it feel so awful?

As you stood in line, you checked the money Karina had handed you earlier, only to realize it was short. Way short.

You panicked for a moment, but what could you do? You had no choice but to pay for the rest out of your own pocket, all while swallowing the lump in your throat.

By the time you were walking back to school, holding a bunch of boba cups in flimsy plastic bags, you were crying. Pathetically.

Tears streaked your face, and your lips wobbled as you sniffled, trying not to let the world see how pitiful you looked.

But it wasn't their fault, you told yourself. They weren't bullying you. You were just having a sensitive day. Your knees hurt from all that back handspring practice, and the money situation had just been bad luck.

That's all.

You furiously wiped at your cheeks, determined to look normal before you made it back to the gym. But then, a voice startled you out of your thoughts.

"What happened to you?"

You nearly dropped the boba.

"Jay!" you yelped, turning to see him standing there with his guitar case slung over his back, his sharp gaze flicking from your tear-streaked face to the plastic bags in your hands—and then to your bruised, purple knees.

"I—uh—hi!" you stammered, forcing an awkward smile.

He didn't return it. "You didn't visit the music room today."

"Oh!" you exclaimed, caught off guard. "I was busy with practice. I completely forgot! I'm sorry!"

He didn't respond, just reached over and took the plastic boba bags from your hands.

You blinked at him, muttering a quiet "thank you" as he carried them down the hallway beside you.

"What happened to you?" he asked again, his tone firmer this time.

You scratched the back of your head, feigning cluelessness. "Uh, what do you mean?"

He gave you a look, and his voice dropped. "Why were you crying? And why do you have bruises all over your knees?"

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. He was staring at you like he could see right through every lie you'd prepared.

"Uh, just... girl stuff!" you blurted, laughing awkwardly. "You know, sensitive day!"

"And your knees?" he asked flatly.

"Oh, that?" You waved a hand as if it were nothing. "They made me practice back handsprings today. I just, uh, had a bad landing. But I'm totally fine! See?" You gave him a shaky thumbs-up, forcing another smile.

Jay didn't look convinced. His gaze flickered back to your knees, then to your face.

"Why? Do you care about me?" you teased, lightly bumping his shoulder with yours.

He rolled his eyes, but you swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch. Without a word, he gestured toward the gym door.

"You first."

You laughed nervously, pushing the door open and walking inside.

"Oh, Y/N," Karina called out from across the gym. "Coach said we're not allowed to have boba anymore since she's strict about our diet. Did you already buy it?"

Your face fell. "Yes..."

"Oh crap!" Giselle smacked her forehead. "I texted you, but I guess it didn't go through!"

"But the boba? The money?" one of the girls asked, holding out her hand expectantly.

You hesitated, your voice caught in your throat. "I already bought it," you said quietly, glancing nervously at Jay.

Before you could say anything else, he walked past you, heading toward the bleachers. Without a word, he dropped the bags of boba onto the bench—hard. The cups jostled, some of the liquid spilling over the edges.

"J-Jongseong?!" Karina stammered, her confident tone faltering as she gulped nervously.

Jay stood there, his sharp glare slicing through the room. "Are you serious right now?" he said, his voice calm but dangerous.

Karina shifted uncomfortably, swallowing a lump in her throat. "W-we didn't mean for her to actually buy them—"

"Yeah?" he cut her off. "Because it looks like you had her running errands like your personal delivery service."

"Jay, it's not like that!" you blurted, defending them instinctively, though your voice wavered.

The room went silent. None of the girls dared to speak as Jay's gaze swept over them, so sharp.

"Is your practice over or something?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because none of you look like you're doing any cheers anymore."

Giselle quickly nodded, her voice high and nervous. "W-we're on a break!"

Jay's eyes narrowed slightly, making Giselle shrink under his gaze.

Finally, he turned to you, and his expression softened just enough to make your chest feel weird—like relief, or maybe something you couldn't quite place.

"Come on," he said, nodding toward the door.

"H-huh?" you stammered, blinking up at him.

"Let's go," he repeated, already turning away.

Before you could argue, he noticed the way you hesitated, the way you winced with every step. His eyes flicked down to your knees, bruised and swollen, and without a word, he leaned down and effortlessly scooped you up into his arms.

"W-what are you doing?!" you gasped, your face burning red as you scrambled to hold onto him.

The squad collectively let out a series of audible gasps behind you.

"Oh my God, she's not like, totally lying," Karina whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Jay didn't acknowledge them. His jaw was tight, his gaze fixed ahead as he carried you out of the gym.

"Jay, I can walk!" you protested weakly, even though your knees were very much not in walking condition.

"Yeah, you're doing a great job of that," he muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he adjusted his grip on you.

You clung to him in stunned silence, trying to ignore the burning stares from the squad still watching as the door swung shut behind you.

Your heart raced, and whether it was from embarrassment or something else entirely, you didn't want to think about it.

"You're going to stop running around like this," Jay said firmly as he walked. "If they want boba, they can get it themselves."

"But I'm part of the team now," you mumbled, your voice small.

"You're not their errand girl," he shot back, his eyes flicking down to you.

You shut your mouth, letting him carry you to the clinic as the nurse tended to your bruised knees.

He leaned casually against the wall, watching the whole process like he was supervising. Every time you dared to glance his way, he raised an eyebrow, silently daring you to say something stupid. You wisely kept quiet.

The next day at practice, things hadn't gotten much better.

The girls were still bombarding you with questions—except now, Jay had inadvertently raised your popularity to new heights.

"He's sweet but terrifying," one of them whispered, watching you stretch. "Maybe you should get him to smile for once. He's always glaring."

"Yeah, but it's kind of hot," another one added, fanning herself dramatically. "It's like he hates everyone except her."

You snorted at that, almost choking on your own air. If only they knew the truth. But you couldn't even laugh properly because someone tapped your shoulder, pointing toward the gym doors.

"Y/N, look!"

You turned and nearly choked on your own spit. There he was—Jay—walking toward you.

The girls squealed, whispering loudly as they quickly backed away to give you "privacy."

Your stomach flipped as he approached, his dark eyes scanning the gym before locking on you. "What are you doing here?" you whispered, gripping the edge of the bleachers.

He ignored your question, dropping his bag and kneeling in front of you.

"How's your knee?" he asked, his tone softer this time as his eyes flicked to your legs.

"I'm fine! What are you doing here?" you repeated, feeling heat crawl up your neck as the gym filled with the sound of squeals and whispers.

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he rummaged through his bag and pulled out something.

"I bought you knee pads," he said simply, holding them up.

Your jaw dropped. "What—why?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he gently took your leg, his hands warm as he began securing the knee pad in place.

"He's so sweet!" one of the girls whispered loudly.

You tried to ignore the growing crowd of gossipers, your face burning as you stared down at him. "You really didn't have to—"

"Stop moving," he interrupted, his focus entirely on your knee as he adjusted the strap.

You sighed, crossing your arms. "Jay, seriously, what are you doing here?"

"I'll watch your routine," he said casually, moving to your other knee.

"What? No!" you exclaimed, flailing slightly. "What do you mean, you'll watch?"

He glanced up at you, a small, almost mischievous smile tugging at his lips. "You watch me practice at the music room. It's only fair I watch yours."

"That's different!" you sputtered, your face heating further.

"How is it different?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because—because I'm not good at this yet!" you said, flustered. "What's your deal?"

"What do you mean?" he said, his voice light with amusement. "I just want to support my girlfriend."

You froze. Your brain short-circuited. Did he just—

"W-what did you just say?" you stammered, your voice cracking.

"Girlfriend," he repeated smoothly, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Isn't that what you keep telling everyone I am?"

You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. The giggles and gasps around you didn't help, either.

"You can't just—" you started, but he cut you off.

"Relax," he said, smirking as he turned to walk away. "Good luck with practice, babe. I'll be watching."

You watched him head toward the bleachers, still reeling from the fact that Park Jongseong, the untouchable cold Jay, just called you his girlfriend in front of everyone.

If you hadn't been blushing before, you were definitely on fire now.

The routine begins with a burst of synchronized cheers, the squad moving in perfect unison. You jump, spin, and dance, throwing in a split and a clean back handspring. When the lifting section comes, you step onto their hands with, you stick the landing, holding your pose as they lower you carefully.

You finish the routine without letting your bruised knees slow you down, your chest heaving as sweat drips down your temples.

The coach claps, giving feedback to the squad, but all you can think about is sitting down and catching your breath.

Unconsciously, you find yourself collapsing onto the bleachers—right next to Jay. He doesn't say anything, just pulls a water bottle and towel out of his bag, as if he'd been expecting you to need them.

"Here," he mutters, handing them over.

"Thanks," you say, too exhausted to overthink it. You take a long sip of water before draping the towel over your shoulders.

"How's the performance?" you ask him, still catching your breath.

"You're good," he replies simply.

You pause, blinking at him. "No, like... us. The cheering squad. How did we look?"

Jay shrugs, leaning back slightly on the bleachers, his gaze fixed ahead. "I don't know," he says, his tone casual. "I only had my eyes on you."

The water bottle in your hand almost slips from your grasp.

"W-what?" you stammer, turning to look at him.

He doesn't meet your gaze, his expression cool and indifferent, but there's a small twitch at the corner of his lips. "You heard me," he says, his voice even.

Your face heats up, and you're not sure if it's from the workout or his words. Before you can respond, one of your squadmates calls your name, pulling you back to reality.

"I—uh, thanks," you mumble, scrambling to stand.

"Don't fall," Jay says, glancing at your knees briefly before leaning back and pulling out his phone, as if he hadn't just dropped a bomb on you.

Your heart races as you jog back to the squad, Jay's words replaying in your mind. "I only had my eyes on you."

What was that supposed to mean?

Over the following weeks, something shifted. Jay did seem to like you—no, that would be too strong—but he definitely didn't hate you anymore. If anything, it felt like he had resigned himself to your presence.

Your schedules matched perfectly: you'd stop by the music room before your cheer practice, watching him play with quiet awe. After his practice ended, you'd walk together to the gym, where he'd drop you off with a gruff nod.

And during those walks, you talked. A lot.

Jay didn't interrupt or roll his eyes at your endless stream of words, but he didn't say much either. He'd let you ramble about random things—your favorite stories, songs, foods, or some obscure fact you'd read online.

One day, while rifling through your bag in frustration, you whined, "Crap, I always forget to bring an extra shirt!"

Jay didn't respond, just kept walking. You assumed he wasn't even listening.

But the next day, when you showed up for your routine walk to the gym, he handed you a neatly folded shirt.

"Here," he said, his tone flat, as though it wasn't a big deal.

You blinked, staring at it. "Wait, is this for me?"

"No, it's for the bench," he replied dryly. Then, seeing your expression, added, "You said you forget yours. Just take it."

Your heart skipped as you took the shirt, muttering a soft "thank you."

On another day, after practice, you grinned at him. "I really want a spicy ramen—like, with crab sticks and shrimp! Let's go get some!"

He raised an eyebrow. "That's a one-way ticket to high blood pressure," he deadpanned.

You pouted, whining dramatically. "Come on, Jay!"

Yet not long after, you found yourselves seated at a small ramen shop. You happily slurped your noodles, your feet swinging slightly under the table. Jay glanced down at your feet before looking up at you, finding you smiling as you focused on your bowl.

"What?" you asked, catching his gaze.

"Nothing," he muttered, shaking his head as he went back to his own noodles.

Spending time with Jay made you lose your guard in the best way.

You weren't as self-conscious anymore, and little things just felt... natural. Like the time you were walking together, mid-laugh, and he suddenly pulled your arm to stop you.

"Look both ways," he mumbled, his hand lingering on your arm as you gripped it instinctively.

You giggled, wrapping your hand around his. "Okay, Dad."

He didn't respond, but his lips twitched ever so slightly.

Another habit of his? Waiting for you after practice, leaning against his motorcycle with his usual nonchalant expression. He'd nod for you to hop on, offering you his spare helmet.

It felt normal now—holding onto him as he drove, the wind whipping around you as the city lights blurred by.

Sometimes, Jay and you didn't even talk. Like when you'd share a cup of ice cream on a bench after practice, the two of you just staring at nothing. He'd sit beside you, watching as you bit down on your spoon absentmindedly.

"You look dumb," he'd say eventually, breaking the silence.

You'd laugh and stick your tongue out at him. "Thanks, Jay. Love the confidence boost."

Jay's attention to small things surprised you most when it came to your ketchup obsession.

It started when you were both sitting at your usual fast-food joint—a chain with a bright red logo and the smell of fries and fried chicken wafting through the air.

You'd always order the same thing: chicken nuggets and fries. But what made you stand out (to Jay, at least) was how you hoarded ketchup packets.

You never even used them at the restaurant. Instead, you'd stuff them into your bag, mumbling something about "saving them for later." Jay didn't ask at first, but the mystery was solved when he saw you in their practice one day, pulling out one of those packets.

You ripped it open quietly, then tipped the packet to your mouth and slurped the ketchup straight out of it.

A week later, during a break, Jay casually handed you a small stack of ketchup packets.

"Where did you get these?" you squealed, your eyes sparkling as you grabbed them from his hand.

"My bandmates ordered fries," he said with a shrug. "They don't like ketchup, so I took them."

You stared at him, your heart doing an annoying little flip. "Jay, you get me," you said dramatically, clutching the packets to your chest like they were a bouquet of roses.

"Don't make this weird," he muttered, already turning away.

You ripped one open immediately, slurping the sweet and tangy ketchup with a grin. "Thanks, Jay!"

He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched again—his almost-smile.

Then there was the time in the cafeteria when he handed you a tissue.

You stared at him, confused. "What's this for?"

"Your lip gloss," he said simply, his tone so casual it made your brain short-circuit.

You blinked, dumbfounded, as heat rose to your cheeks. How did he even notice that you always wiped off your lip gloss before eating?

You muttered a shy "thanks," taking the tissue as your heart thumped in your chest.

And then there were even smaller things.

Like how he bent down to tie your shoelaces without a word when they came undone during your walk.

Or how he fixed your hair once, brushing a stray strand behind your ear with a quick, almost annoyed motion.

Or how he straightened your uniform when it got wrinkled after a particularly rough practice, muttering something about how you looked like "a mess."

They weren't grand gestures. Jay wasn't the type for big declarations or sweeping acts of romance. But it was always the small things that left you breathless—the way he noticed you, the way he cared without saying much.

And maybe, just maybe, the cold, untouchable guitarist didn't hate you as much as he let on.

"That's Park Jongseong's girlfriend!"

"Park Jongseong's girl is so pretty!"

"I didn't know Park Jongseong's girlfriend is so good at dancing!"

But honestly? You weren't sure how to feel about it anymore.

People didn't want to know you. They wanted to know him. Even when someone started a conversation with you, it always led back to Jay.

"How did you two meet?"

"What does he do when he's bored?"

"Does he even smile around you?"

You started noticing how Jay wasn't immune, either. People would corner him in the halls, asking invasive questions about your "relationship," and he'd glare at them in that trademark way of his until they got the hint and left. He never complained, never said anything about it to you, but you could see it in the way his jaw clenched tighter these days.

You weren't cool. You weren't special.

You were just someone who had made a stupid, selfish decision to drag his name into your mess. And now? You weren't sure if you could keep it up any longer.

It was a quiet afternoon in the music room. Jay sat across from you, strumming his guitar in the golden light of sunset. Normally, this was when you'd ramble on about whatever random topic popped into your head, but today, the words felt too heavy to come out.

Instead, you pulled your knees to your chest, hugging them as you stared at the floor.

"I'm sorry if I always bother you," you said suddenly, your voice barely audible.

Jay's fingers stilled on the strings, his head tilting slightly as he glanced at you.

"I... I really don't have any friends," you admitted, resting your chin on your knees. "I think I'm too crazy for the good girls in my class, too dumb for the nerds, and way too soft for the mean girls."

He didn't say anything, but you felt his eyes on you.

"But, you know," you continued, your voice shaky, "you're the first person who's ever... tolerated me. And I really appreciate that."

You laughed weakly, even though it wasn't funny. "Thank you, Park Jongseong, for listening to me go on and on about dystopian movies. For putting up with me when I get loud and excited. For not judging my weird ketchup obsession."

Jay leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable, as you let out a long sigh.

"I thought dragging your name into the cheer squad thing would make me feel like I belonged somewhere," you said, your voice breaking. "But it hasn't. If anything, it's just made me feel worse. Like I'm not enough for them. Like I'll never be enough."

Your chest tightened as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt, unable to meet his gaze. "And... I feel like I've dumped all these responsibilities on you because of one stupid little lie I told. It's not fair to you."

Jay stayed silent, but you could feel his presence, heavy and quiet.

You swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "I think... I think it's time we break up."

Jay's hands froze on the guitar, his entire body going still. His gaze sharpened.

"Break up?" he repeated, his tone even but taut, like he was holding something back.

You nodded, your throat closing up. "Yeah. I've caused you enough trouble already. I think... I think it's better if we just end it. It'll be easier for you."

Jay's jaw tightened, his fingers gripping the edge of the guitar as he stared at you. "Is that what you want?" he asked, his tone calm but laced with something you couldn't place.

Your chest felt like it was caving in. You couldn't look at him, couldn't bring yourself to say what you really wanted to say. So instead, you nodded.

"Yes," you whispered, barely audible.

The silence that followed was unbearable. You expected him to agree, to maybe sigh in relief or tell you that you were right. But instead, he just stared at you, his gaze unreadable.

Finally, he exhaled through his nose, his voice low. "Alright."

Your heart sank at the word, even though it was what you'd asked for. You forced yourself to stand, forcing a shaky "thank you" past your lips as you made your way toward the door.

But just as you reached it, his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"But you should know," he said, "that if you think you're not enough, you're wrong."

You froze, your breath hitching. Slowly, you turned to face him.

He wasn't looking at you anymore. His gaze was fixed on his guitar, his fingers idly plucking at the strings, but there was a softness in his voice that you weren't used to.

"You don't have to try so hard to fit into their world," he said quietly. "You already stand out. You don't see it, but you do."

Your throat tightened as tears pricked at your eyes. "Jay..."

He looked up at you then, his dark eyes piercing but calm. "If you want to end it, I'll let you go," he said, his voice steady. "But don't do it because you think you're causing me trouble. That's just you overthinking, as usual."

The ache in your chest grew unbearable, and for a moment, you thought about staying.

But the weight of your emotions felt too heavy, and you bolted, muttering a weak "thanks" as you ran out of the room, tears already spilling down your cheeks.

You didn't look back, but as you closed the door behind you, you swore you heard the faint sound of his guitar strings—soft, steady, and full of something you didn't quite understand.

By the time you reached the bathroom, you were a mess.

You locked yourself in a stall and let it all out, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried—and failed—to convince yourself this was what you wanted.

"It's not even real," you muttered, your voice cracking. "We're not a thing. We were never a thing. Why am I crying like an idiot?"

But no amount of reasoning stopped the ugly sobs from wracking your chest. You clutched some toilet paper, blowing your nose dramatically and telling yourself to get it together.

When you showed up to practice later, your eyes were swollen and red, your nose a little too pink to hide what had happened.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Karina asked, looking concerned.

You forced a shaky smile. "I'm fine! Totally fine! Oh, by the way..." You paused, sniffling slightly. "Jay and I broke up."

The words felt like ripping off a Band-Aid, but you didn't have time to process them before the room erupted.

"What?!" Giselle gasped, clutching her water bottle.

"No way!" Yunjin exclaimed, already pulling out her phone.

Within hours, the news spread across the school faster than you thought possible. Everywhere you went, you could hear whispers and murmurs about the "breakup."

And Park Jongseong?

He was still Park Jongseong.

You spotted him in the hallway, his face set in stone, his jaw tight, his eyes sharp as ever.

He walked like he was on his way to commit murder, every step filled with tension. People gave him a wide berth, whispering things like, "He's even scarier than usual," and, "God, she must've really broken his heart."

But when your eyes met his for a split second, he looked away, his expression you can't read.

Your chest ached painfully every time you passed him. And when you were finally alone at night, you curled up in bed and cried yourself to sleep, the pain in your chest refusing to fade.

By the time your classmates dragged you to karaoke, you were on emotional autopilot. You didn't want to be there, but they'd insisted.

"It'll help you get over him!" Sunoo had said, practically shoving you into the room.

It wasn't helping. At all.

Sunoo grabbed the mic, singing passionately as the lyrics flashed across the screen. "That's why I don't understand... why I'm feeling so bad now, when I know it was my idea."

You froze, staring at the lyrics like they'd personally attacked you. Your lips twitched, but you refused to let the tears fall.

Ni-ki leaned forward, grabbing the mic dramatically. "I could've just denied the truth and lied... why am I the only one, standing, stranded on the same ground?!"

You let out a choked laugh, trying to brush off your growing emotions, but then Sunoo turned to you with wide, knowing eyes. "Oh my God, what happened to you?!"

"Shut up," you muttered, pulling your cardigan over your face to hide the tears forming in your eyes.

The room erupted as Ni-ki wrestled the mic away from Sunoo. "My love, it's been a long time since I cried and left you out of the blue." Ni-ki sang into the microphone.

You couldn't help it—the tears started spilling as you wiped them furiously with your sleeve, hoping no one would notice.

"It's hard leaving you that way... when I never wanted to!"

Your classmates were belting out the lyrics, screaming into the mic with way too much passion. And somehow, the chaos made it worse.

"Self-denial is a game!" Ni-ki shouted, practically falling to his knees. "It's strange, I never would've wanted it until there was you!"

You sniffled, wiping your cheeks again, but the tears wouldn't stop.

"Y/N, are you crying?!" Sunoo gasped dramatically, leaning closer, his voice high-pitched enough to rival a whistle.

"No!" you wailed, burying your face deeper into your cardigan. "It's just—the lyrics are so stupid!"

Jungwon, ever the responsible one, grabbed the remote and immediately switched the song. "Okay, we need a vibe shift. No more heartbreak songs."

The opening beat of Apple Bottom Jeans blasted through the room, and everyone burst into cheers and laughter.

You couldn't help but laugh, sniffing back the last of your tears as Ni-ki grabbed the mic and jumped onto the couch.

You felt a little lighter. Sure, your heart was still aching, but at least now, you now had friends who made it a little easier to breathe.

The next day, you were required to attend the university baseball game. Every student was, but as part of the cheerleading pep squad, you had absolutely no excuse to skip.

The stadium was packed with thousands of students from your university and the rival school, the energy buzzing in the air. You tugged at the hem of your uniform skirt, your face burning with embarrassment. "Is it really this short?!" you whined, glaring at Giselle.

She shushed you with a wave of her pom-poms. "Relax. It's normal!"

"You don't have to be awkward about it," Karina added, flipping her hair. "Your legs look great!"

Your coach, however, was far less delicate. "We're making it look longer because your legs are short," she said bluntly, not even looking up from her clipboard.

You gasped, utterly dumbfounded. "I—should I be offended, or...?"

The coach just shrugged, moving on with her notes.

Before the game officially began, your squad performed a short routine to hype up the crowd. The music blared through the speakers as you stepped forward, executing a clean front handspring. The crowd roared with approval, but your face burned as your skirt rode up mid-flip.

When the routine ended, you cringed, tugging your skirt back down as you returned to your seat at the front. You waved your pom-poms enthusiastically, shouting the university yell every time your team scored, even if you were still mortified from earlier.

When the game finally ended and the crowd began to thin out, you found yourself standing near the bleachers, clutching your pom-poms and phone. The cheer squad was preparing to take pictures, but you hung back for a moment, trying to catch your breath.

That's when someone approached you.

"Hi," a voice said, warm and slightly out of breath.

You turned to see a guy standing in front of you, wearing his baseball uniform. His dark hair was damp with sweat, his cheeks flushed from the game, and his smile was boyish and shy.

"I'm Heeseung," he introduced himself, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I just wanted to say your routine was really cool. And, uh... I was wondering if I could get your number?"

You blinked, your brain stalling. Wait, what?

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, a loud voice called out from across the field.

"Y/N! Hurry up!" Sunoo waved his arms dramatically, yelling over the crowd. "We're taking pictures!"

Your face turned even redder as you looked between Heeseung and Sunoo. Panicking, you muttered a quick, "Sorry, I've gotta go!" before rushing off toward your squad, clutching your pom-poms.

By the time you reached your squad, you were out of breath and flustered, feeling like the world's biggest idiot.

You grabbed your bag, rummaging through it in search of a shirt to change into. The crowd had mostly cleared out, and the stadium lights were dimming, but you were too busy muttering to yourself to notice.

Of course, you didn't have a spare shirt. Why would you?

You sighed heavily, dropping your pom-poms into the bag and staring at the empty space inside. Without thinking, you mumbled, "I miss Jay."

The words hung in the air, surprising even you. You froze for a second, realizing what you'd just said out loud.

It had been months since you'd ended things—or whatever it was you'd had—with Jay. And somehow, instead of feeling lighter, you felt worse.

The more you saw him in passing, the more you missed him. The more you craved him. The ache in your chest refused to fade, no matter how much time passed.

Sometimes, you still cried yourself to sleep, clutching your pillow as memories of him flooded your mind.

You hated how much you missed him.

And then there were moments when your body moved on its own, as if drawn to him.

You'd find yourself standing outside the music room, staring at the door like you were waiting for something—or someone—to pull you inside.

But you never went in. You just stood there, your heart heavy, before walking away again.

Or you'd sit at your favorite bench, the one where you used to share ice cream with him after practice. You'd sit there alone, biting the spoon absentmindedly and staring at nothing, replaying old conversations in your head.

It was during one of those quiet moments, as you sat with a half-melted scoop of vanilla in your hand, that the truth finally hit you.

You liked Jay.

No, you more than liked him. You missed him so much it hurt. And the worst part? You had no idea if he missed you, too.

You bit down harder on your spoon, frustration bubbling in your chest.

Why had you been so stupid? Why had you pushed him away when, deep down, he'd been the only one who ever made you feel seen?

Maybe you were too late. Maybe you'd ruined whatever connection you had with him.

But one thought kept circling in your mind, no matter how much you tried to shake it off.

What if you weren't too late?

"Do you party?" Sunoo asked casually, flopping onto your bed like it was his own.

You raised an eyebrow, not bothering to hide your skepticism. "Not really. I mean, I've been to a few, but it's not my thing. Why?"

"Let's go to a party this weekend! You know Sunghoon, right? The baseball player? He's hosting!"

You laughed, waving him off. "I'll think about it, but probably not."

Sunoo narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but you brushed him off, fully intending to stay home.

But when the weekend came, your plans to stay curled up in bed went out the window.

Sunoo, Jungwon, and Ni-ki just barged into your house.

"Why aren't you dressed?!" Sunoo exclaimed, throwing open your closet as Jungwon inspected your makeup drawer.

"What are you doing?!" you shrieked, clutching a pillow like it was a weapon.

"You are going to this party," Ni-ki said, arms crossed like he was your older brother instead of one year younger. "Get ready. Now."

With no way out, you reluctantly threw on a simple crop top and shorts, tying your hair into a ponytail and doing clean, light makeup.

When you arrived at the party, the atmosphere immediately overwhelmed you. The music was loud enough to shake the walls, the smell of sweat, alcohol, and something smoky lingering in the air.

You stuck close to Sunoo as he handed you a red cup with some drink you didn't recognize.

"Just take a sip!" he shouted over the music.

"Excuse me for a second," you said, escaping to the balcony.

The moment you stepped outside, you exhaled deeply, the fresh air calming your nerves. The cool night breeze felt like a blessing after the suffocating heat inside.

But then, you stiffened.

Sitting in one of the chairs was someone you hadn't expected to see—someone you hadn't seen up close in months.

Jay.

He sat with one foot tapping rhythmically against the ground, a vape in his hand. The dim light from the balcony highlighted his sharp jawline, his pointed nose, and the effortless way his hair slicked back. He wore a simple white shirt under a blue Nike jacket, but somehow, he looked stunning.

Your chest tightened painfully as his head turned, his dark eyes meeting yours.

"Oh," you said awkwardly, frozen in place.

He stared at you for a moment, then leaned back in his chair, taking a long drag from his vape.

Without knowing why, you found yourself walking over to him and sitting quietly beside him, your gaze fixed on the stars above.

"I didn't know you actually smoked," you said softly, breaking the silence.

He hummed, his head tilting slightly as he exhaled the smoke in the opposite direction, making a point to avoid letting any of it near you.

"I don't. Not usually. I don't smoke at school."

He shifted in his seat, sliding the vape into his pocket and straightening his posture.

"Why'd you stop just now?" you asked, glancing at him.

He didn't hesitate. "Your nose is sensitive to strong smells."

Your breath caught, his simple answer hitting you harder than you expected. That was Jay—always quiet, always watching, always knowing without making a big deal of it.

The ache in your chest grew unbearable.

"I'm sorry," the words came out from your mouth.

Jay's gaze snapped to yours, his expression neutral.

"For what?" he asked evenly.

"For just leaving," you said, your voice shaky. "For everything you've done for me, and then me just... walking away. I didn't know what I was feeling back then. I was hurt and scared because... you're you, and I'm just me. I'm not good enough for you—"

Jay didn't respond immediately. His gaze softened, though his expression remained guarded. "And what are you feeling now?"

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I... I miss you, Jay," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I miss everything about you. The small things, the way you cared, even if you acted like you didn't. I'm sorry for leaving you. I'm sorry for being stupid."

Jay looked at you for a long moment, his dark eyes searching yours.

"You're really stupid, aren't you?" he said, his voice calm but laced with a faint humor that made your heart ache.

You managed a weak laugh, wiping at the corner of your eye. "Yeah, I am."

Jay exhaled slowly, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile.

"I thought you'd like me and never break it off because that's what happens in those books you always talk about, right?" he said, his voice softening. "But somehow, I fell harder than I ever expected."

Your breath hitched as he let out a quiet laugh—so rare, so warm, it made your chest ache. He finally looked at you, his eyes glinting with something vulnerable.

"I've always waited for you," he admitted, his voice low. "Waited for you to stop standing outside the music room and just walk in. But you never did."

Your eyes widened, surprise flickering across your face.

"I saw you," he continued. "Every time you sat on that bench, on our place... I saw you at a distance, sitting there, staring at nothing. And I waited. I always waited for your eyes to look at me the way I was looking at you."

Tears began to swell in your eyes as you took in his words.

Jay leaned closer, his movements gentle.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "For being such a coward. For not walking up to you when I wanted to. I told myself I'd wait, but waiting just hurt more because all I could do was think about you. About us."

He reached out hesitantly, brushing his fingers against your cheek, his hand warm and grounding. "I'm hurting. I've been hurting since you left. Do you feel the same way?"

The tears spilled over, warm and slow, streaking down your cheeks. You placed your hand over his, leaning into his touch as you nodded. "I do, Jay. I've been hurting, too."

He watched you closely, his eyes softening as you smiled at him through your tears.

"You're crying," he murmured, brushing a stray tear away with his thumb.

"Yeah, well, that's your fault," you whispered, laughing through the tears.

Jay shook his head, his lips tugging into the faintest smile. "You're impossible," he muttered, his voice affectionate.

"And you're annoying," you shot back, your voice trembling with emotion.

But neither of you moved away.

The balcony felt smaller, quieter, as Jay's hand lingered on your cheek. His gaze flickered to your lips for a brief second, and your heart jumped, but he didn't move, waiting instead for you to close the gap.

So you did.

You leaned forward, pressing your lips softly to his, your heart pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it. His lips were warm and hesitant at first, but then he shifted, tilting his head slightly as he kissed you back.

His hand slid into your hair, his fingers brushing lightly against your scalp as he pulled you closer. The kiss deepened, your lips moving in perfect sync.

When you pulled back just slightly to catch your breath, his forehead rested against yours, and his lips hovered mere inches away.

His voice was low, and soft as he whispered against your lips, "Don't ever think of yourself like that. You're more than enough."

His words struck you deep, and your eyes fluttered open to meet his. "But... you're you, and I'm just me," you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Jay didn't let you finish. His lips captured yours again, silencing your insecurities. When he pulled back, he looked at you with a gaze so intense it made your breath hitch.

"I like you for being you," he said simply.

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening with emotion. "But you're like a big star," you said, holding up your fingers to make the shape of a small star, "and I'm just... a little star."

Jay's lips curved into the softest smile before he leaned forward again, kissing you gently.

His voice was tender when he murmured against your lips, "A little star that shines brightest in my eyes."

Your cheeks burned, and you couldn't help but let out a flustered laugh, lightly hitting his chest. "How come you always know how to get my heart?!"

Jay chuckled, kissing your forehead as he hugs you.

Jay just wanted to play guitar. That was all. He didn't ask for the reputation, the attention, or the corny nickname the school had slapped on him—the "cold, untouchable hot guitarist." God, how he hated that.

Every day felt the same: girls cornering him in the halls, asking for his number or accidentally brushing their hands against his arms or guitar case. His eyes would glare like knives as he gritted out, "Don't touch me."

He hated it—the fake admiration, the empty attention. Everyone seemed to care about him for all the wrong reasons. And when they annoyed him too much?

"Fuck off," he'd mutter, his tone so cold it practically froze people in their tracks.

But you? You were different.

Jay remembered the school festival three years ago. He'd been sitting in Jake's booth, tuning his guitar lazily while Jake served spicy noodles to an occasional brave (or dumb) soul willing to risk their stomach for the thrill.

It was supposed to be a chill afternoon, but then you showed up.

You were the only person who kept coming back to Jake's booth. Every hour.

"I swear, you're going to burn a hole in your stomach," Jake had told you, half-laughing as he handed you yet another bowl of his stupidly spicy noodles.

"Totally worth it," you'd chirped, your voice high-pitched and cheerful. "Do you have a permanent shop? I'd eat there every day!"

Jay had glanced up from his guitar, staring at you through the slits of the tent. You were completely oblivious to his presence, happily slurping noodles as Jake made small talk with you.

Later, Jake stormed into the tent, tossing his apron onto the chair. "We're sold out," he'd announced. "And it's her fault."

Jay had raised an eyebrow. "Her?"

Jake pointed outside. "The spicy noodle girl. She's been coming back all day. We sold out because of her."

Jay hadn't said anything, but his lips had twitched, the smallest hint of a smile forming before he went back to tuning his guitar.

Jay hated everyone. He hated how they tugged at him, how they fawned over him for no reason. But somehow, he couldn't bring himself to hate you.

He remembered the little things—moments that no one else seemed to notice.

Like the time you walked down the hallway with that cute little bag, the kind of bag that didn't really suit a high schooler but looked perfect on you.

It had a figurine hanging from it, neatly wrapped in a plastic pouch, and you carried it like it was your most prized possession.

Then, just days later, he'd found you outside the lost and found office, whining and crying. You'd lost the figurine, and you'd spent an entire lunch period pacing back and forth in front of the office, waiting for someone to turn it in.

Or the time he saw you clapping and cheering during a cheerleading pep squad performance, smiling so brightly that it felt contagious. You weren't even part of the squad back then, just a spectator, but you looked so genuinely happy that even he couldn't look away.

Then there was your PathFit (PE) class. Jay hadn't meant to stop by, but he'd found himself standing near the open door, his guitar case slung over his shoulder, as his eyes drifted toward you. You were on the floor, legs stretched into a perfect split, your forehead pressed to the ground as you stretched.

Jay once again noticed you searching frantically for a notebook you'd dropped in the hallway. You were crouched on the floor, mumbling to yourself, "This is why I can't have nice things."

He'd spotted the notebook a few feet away, picked it up, and placed it on the bench beside him.

When you found it moments later, you gasped, "Oh my God, it's a miracle!"

You always said you were just a simple girl. That no one really noticed you or cared about someone like you.

But in Jay's eyes, you were the opposite of invisible.

And every time he thought about you, he realized the same thing.

You stood out more than anyone else ever could.

When you'd spilled water all over his face.

His first reaction wasn't anger or annoyance, but something that surprised even him—he noticed how beautiful you looked up close.

Your wide eyes stared at him in shock, your pouty lips forming a small gasp as you muttered incoherent apologies. The faint, sweet floral scent of your perfume hit him, and for a second, he forgot the cold water dripping down his face.

Jay closed his eyes, his jaw clenching as he tried to take in more of that intoxicating scent, grounding himself. But before he could say anything, you bolted, muttering a quick "Sorry!" as you sprinted down the hallway.

He almost laughed when you tripped on your knees, scrambling awkwardly to escape. He stood there for a moment, wiping the water off his face with his sleeve.

The second interaction was you crashing out his guitar. He almost didn't notice his guitar on the floor because his eyes were locked on you.

Slowly, you raised two fingers in a peace sign, your expression a mix of guilt and panic.

"Uh... sorry?" you muttered before immediately backing out of the room.

Jay stood there, staring at the empty doorway, blinking in disbelief. He opened his mouth to say something, maybe even laugh, but the sound never left his throat. You were gone before he could even start a conversation.

And then there was the volleyball incident.

Jay didn't even see the ball coming. One second he was walking into the gym with his friends, and the next, a sharp pain hit him square on the nose.

"Shit," he hissed, dropping to the ground and clutching his face.

When he opened his eyes, you were hovering over him, your face inches from his. Your hair framed your face like a curtain, and there it was again—that scent. Sweet, light, floral.

He blinked up at you, stunned into silence. For a split second, he forgot about the pain, about the blood dripping from his nose. He was too focused on you—your soft features, your panicked expression, the way your lips trembled as you tried to form words.

Before he could open his mouth to tell you he was fine, the blood started pouring out of his nose.

"Crap!" you yelped, standing up quickly, flailing in panic. "I—I'll get help! I'm so sorry!"

And then you ran. Again.

Jay lay there, groaning as Jake handed him a tissue, snickering the entire time.

"Shut up," Jay muttered, even though Jake don't even say anything.

The breaking point came when Jay heard about the rumor that he was in a relationship.

He was furious. Annoyed didn't even begin to describe it. He hated how his name was constantly dragged into things, but this? A fake relationship? With some girl he didn't even know?

Storming through the hallways, he cornered one of the guys he'd overheard spreading the rumor. Grabbing the boy by the collar, he slammed him against the lockers.

"Tell me who started it," Jay demanded, his voice low and sharp. His jaw was clenched, his dark eyes boring into the boy's.

"I-I don't know! I swear!" the boy stammered, flinching under Jay's glare. "They said it was some girl—Y/N! Y/N told the cheerleaders about it!"

At the mention of your name, Jay froze. His grip loosened slightly.

For a moment, he couldn't believe it. Of all people, it was you.

Releasing the boy with a shove, Jay stepped back, his emotions in a whirlwind. He should've been angrier—should've been ready to confront you and demand answers. But instead, he found himself... curious.

He should've been irritated. He should've hated you for dragging his name into a mess.

But somehow, he didn't.

Instead, he felt something he couldn't quite place. And he wasn't sure what annoyed him more—the rumor itself or the fact that the thought of being tied to you didn't bother him as much as it should have.

“Oh my God, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Did they just come back together?!”

Whispers followed the two of you as you walked hand in hand down the hallway.

Jay’s tall frame dressed in his usual all-black outfit. His guitar case was slung over his back, the strap resting effortlessly against his shoulder, and his hand held yours with an ease that made your heart race.

Every head turned to look at you. It wasn’t just the sight of Jay—cold, untouchable, and intimidating—but the sight of him with you, a cheerful and bubbly cheerleader.

You leaned closer to him, lowering your voice as you whispered, “Do you think a guitarist and a cheerleader is a weird combination?”

Jay glanced down at you, one eyebrow raised, his expression softening. “No,” he said without hesitation, his voice steady. “You and me? We’re a perfect combination.”

You let out a laugh, lightly bumping your shoulder against his arm. “God, you’re so cheesy.”

He smirked faintly but didn’t respond, the corners of his lips tugging upward in amusement.

Park Jongseong as a fake boyfriend was good.

But Park Jongseong as a real boyfriend? He was so much better.

You used to think of him as just the guy with the sharp jawline, the deadpan expression, and those sharp, eagle-like eyes that seemed to shoot lasers at anyone who got too close. He was the “fuck off” and “shut up” guy, the untouchable guitarist who kept everyone at arm’s length.

But now, as you walked hand in hand with him, you realized how wrong you’d been.

Jay wasn’t just sweet—he was unbelievably sweet.

You remembered all the little lies you’d told about him when you were trying to fit in with the cheer squad.

“He’s so sweet,” you’d said back then, fabricating stories about how he’d treat you like a princess.

But now? Those stories felt laughable because the reality of being with Jay was so much better.

When you were tired, he’d carry your bag without a word.

“Let me take it,” he’d say simply, slipping the strap off your shoulder.

He opened doors for you—every single time. If you walked through a doorway together, you didn’t even have to reach for the handle because Jay would already be holding it open, waiting patiently for you to step through.

Once, when you were getting into a car, you’d bumped your head against the roof. From that moment on, Jay always, always put a hand over your head to make sure it didn’t happen again.

“Careful,” he’d murmur, voice low but gentle.

You’d joked about him cooking for you once, completely unaware of how true it would become.

One evening, after a particularly long practice, Jay had brought you to his house. “You’re tired,” he’d said. “Let me make you something.”

You hadn’t expected much—maybe instant ramen or a sandwich at most. But then you’d watched, wide-eyed, as he moved around the kitchen with surprising ease, chopping vegetables, seasoning meat, and sautéing everything.

“Do you cook often?” you’d asked, leaning against the counter as the delicious aroma filled the room.

“Sometimes,” he replied, glancing at you briefly. “Jake says my food is too good for him, though.”

You laughed, resting your chin on your hand as you watched him. Jay, the sharp-tongued guitarist, was making you a home-cooked meal. And it wasn’t just good—it was amazing.

Then there were the kisses.

You’d made up a story once, saying, “He kisses me goodbye every morning.” You thought it was the perfect romantic lie to impress the cheerleaders.

But now? Jay had made it a reality.

Every morning before he left for his own class, he’d touch your cheek lightly, his fingers brushing against your skin.

Then, he’d lean in, his lips meeting yours in the gentlest, softest kiss.

“See you later,” he’d say, before turning and walking away.

Each time, your heart would flutter uncontrollably, your fingers brushing against your lips as you watched him go.

"Aftercare after sex"

Except now, the real thing had turned out to be even better.

“Jay!” you whined, your hand gripping his hair as your hips moved uncontrollably against his mouth.

His tongue worked magic against your clit, circling and sucking gently while his long fingers moved inside you. His fingers curled just right, hitting your sweet spot effortlessly, and you gasped, your jaw going slack from the overwhelming sensation.

Your stomach tightened as the heat pooled low in your belly, and you felt yourself getting closer with each passing second.

Jay let out a low hum, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. His free hand moved up to intertwine with yours, grounding you even as you felt like you might fall apart.

“Feel so good,” you sobbed, your eyebrows furrowing together in pleasure. “Don’t want to stop.”

Jay pulled back just slightly, his lips glistening as he murmured, “Are you close, baby?”

You nodded frantically, your breathing erratic.

He leaned up, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. You tasted yourself on him, your tongue meeting his as the kiss grew messy and desperate. His fingers didn’t slow for a second, pumping relentlessly inside you as you gasped against his mouth.

When you broke the kiss, your eyes were teary, your chest heaving. Jay looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, his own breathing labored as he took in your flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

“Fuck,” he muttered, biting his lip as he moved back down between your legs. Without hesitation, he latched onto your clit again, sucking hard.

Your body jolted, your hands clutching at the sheets as you screamed his name. “Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum—”

Jay hummed in approval, his tongue working in perfect sync with his fingers, coaxing you to the edge. His free hand squeezed yours gently, the small gesture making your heart flutter even as your hips bucked uncontrollably against his face.

“I love you,” you gasped, your voice breaking. “I love you, I love you—”

Your back arched as the tension inside you snapped, and your vision blurred with stars. You cried out, your body shaking as you came, the overwhelming pleasure leaving you breathless.

Jay stayed with you through it all, his tongue and fingers slowing to help you ride out the waves. When you finally slumped back against the bed, exhausted and trembling, he moved up beside you, brushing the hair from your face.

He kissed you softly, murmuring sweet nothings against your lips as he fixed your shirt and wiped you down with gentle care.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, soothing. “You did so good.”

Jay was definitely good at aftercare.

“Is it true that Park Jongseong is… like, huge in bed?”

You flushed instantly, your thoughts flashing to the one time you’d seen him fully exposed, when he’d let you take him in your hand.

Yeah, he was definitely huge.

"Did he really let you touch his guitar?"

You stared down at the sleek Stratocaster electric guitar now resting gently in your lap. Jay handed you a white marker, his eyes soft as he watched your expression shift from confusion to awe.

Your fingers lightly brushed over the strings and the smooth, glossy surface of the guitar’s body. “What’s this for?” you asked, holding up the white marker he had placed in your hand.

“I need you to sign your name on my guitar,” he said casually.

Your eyes widened as you looked between the guitar and Jay, who was now sitting beside you. “W-wait,” you stammered, your voice rising slightly. “Are you sure? I don’t want to ruin it—”

“Baby,” he interrupted, “you’re not ruining it.” He leaned closer, gently pointing at a spot near the edge of the guitar’s body. “Right there. That’s where I want it. Sign it for me, hmm?”

You swallowed hard, this wasn’t just any guitar—it was his guitar. The one he cherished.

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding as you carefully uncapped the marker.

You hovered the pen above the guitar for a moment, practicing your signature in the air as your nerves fluttered.

Jay chuckled softly beside you, his voice warm. “You’re acting like you’re signing a million-dollar contract.”

“This is more serious than that,” you shot back, your lips curving into a nervous smile.

Finally, with a deep breath, you pressed the tip of the marker to the glossy surface, your hand moving carefully as you signed your name. The white ink glided smoothly across the black body, and when you pulled the marker away, you stared at the result with wide eyes.

“Perfect,” Jay murmured.

You turned to look at him, your heart skipping a beat at the way his gaze lingered on the guitar. His usual sharp, stoic expression was replaced with something softer, his eyes shining as he traced your signature with his finger.

He looked up at you, his lips curving into a rare, genuine smile. “Thank you,” he said, his voice full of warmth. Then, leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder.

Your cheeks burned as you gripped the marker tightly, unsure of what to say.

Jay pulled back slightly, his smile still in place. “Now it’s perfect,” he said simply, taking the guitar from your lap and standing up.

You watched as he adjusted the strap and slung it over his shoulder. His fingers moved instinctively to the strings, testing a few chords, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes kept flickering to your signature.

“Looks good, doesn’t it?” he asked, his voice casual, but you could hear the pride beneath it.

“It does,” you said softly, your chest feeling warm and full.

It was the school festival again, and you couldn’t contain your excitement. Still wearing your cheerleading uniform from your earlier routine, you tugged at your cousin’s arm, practically dragging her through the bustling crowd. The stadium was alive with energy—students cheering, music blasting from nearby booths, and the smell of snacks wafting through the air.

“Come on, we’re going to miss it!” you squealed, your ponytail bouncing as you hurried forward, your pom-poms tucked under your arm.

Your cousin groaned dramatically, trailing behind you. “You’ve been talking about this all day. Who are we even going to see?”

“My boyfriend!” you said, grinning from ear to ear. “My boyfriend's in a band!”

“Boyfriend?” she repeated, narrowing her eyes. “Since when do you have a boyfriend?”

You turned to her with a mock gasp, clutching your chest like she’d insulted you. “Excuse you. I’ve had one for months now.”

Your cousin raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Alright, then. Let’s see this mysterious boyfriend of yours.”

The two of you found seats near the front, and you craned your neck, scanning the stage as the band members set up. The noise of the crowd grew louder, students and visitors alike cheering as the festival program officially began.

And then he appeared.

Jay stepped onto the stage, standing out against the bright festival decorations. The strap of his guitar rested comfortably on his shoulder, the instrument gleaming under the stage lights—and there it was, your signature on its glossy surface.

Your heart thudded wildly in your chest, a giddy smile tugging at your lips as you clapped your hands together in excitement.

“Okay, but which one is your boyfriend?” your cousin asked, squinting at the stage as if trying to piece it together.

You didn’t even hesitate. Pointing toward Jay, you said proudly, “The guitarist. His name is Park Jongseong. That’s my boyfriend.”

Your attention was locked on Jay as he adjusted his guitar strap and tested a few chords. His sharp, eagle-like eyes scanned the crowd, his usual stoic expression giving him an air of effortless cool. But then, something changed.

His gaze stopped on you.

Jay’s piercing eyes softened, his lips curving into the faintest smile, the kind of smile he rarely let anyone see. It was small, barely noticeable to most, but you knew it was for you.

Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to hide the giddy grin that threatened to take over your face. Your cheeks burned, and your heart raced as he looked at you.

After a brief moment, Jay’s gaze dropped to his guitar. He adjusted the tuning, his fingers moving skillfully over the strings, but you could tell his mind wasn’t entirely on the music. He stole one last glance at you before focusing on his task, a quiet confidence radiating from him as he prepared to play.

Your cousin, still in shock, nudged you. “Okay, he’s hot. How did you—like, how did you—end up with him?”

You laughed, brushing her off as you continued to watch Jay. “It’s a long story,” you said, your voice dreamy.

As the band began their set, the crowd’s cheers grew louder, and Jay’s fingers danced effortlessly over the strings. The sound was mesmerizing, and your chest swelled with pride as you watched him command the stage.

And as you sat there, smiling like an idiot, you realized once again how lucky you were to call him yours.

perm taglist: @fancypeacepersona, @immelissaaa

#enhypen #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfic #jay #enhypen jay fanfic #jay x reader #park jongseong x reader #heeseung #sunghoon #jake #sunoo #jungwon #ni-ki #park jongseong imagines #jay imagines #jay fluff #enhypen fluff #park jongseong

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halles-notebook · 18 days ago

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ᯓ★ 𝒸𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓎 ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: what happens when you overhear a conversation between steve and tommy about how ‘clingy’ you are?

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: steve harrington x fem!reader

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: two tiny uses of y/n, brief moment of douchey king steve, angsty distancing, sad+confused steve, etc etc!

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒: hi honeys!! in honor of the season 5 trailer, i had to write for my bby since 2016!!! also, first season of stranger things came out on my birthday… meant to be??? i hope u guys enjoy!!!🤍

nerves of excitement raced through your veins, heating your blood and making your heart pound. you were speed-walking through the halls, gaining a couple of odd looks, but you were too happy to care.

you had a sheet of paper clutched in your hand, a bright red stamp on the right corner. A+. you struggled greatly in chemistry, a fact all your friends and family knew. the class was practically created by a sociopathic masochist, math and science rolled into one? no way.

but you’d studied until your eyes crossed for this exam, and clearly your efforts had paid off. you couldn’t wait to tell steve. knowing his last class of the day, you opened the door to the gym and pranced in, a proud beam on your face.

your eyes found his figure immediately, stood a couple of feet away chatting with tommy. you hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but their conversation easily met your ears, making you guiltily hide behind a rack filled with basketballs to understand their topic.

“great game, dude. me and the boys are gonna be at marcus’s house tonight for a get together, beer and basketball. you in?”

“i can’t, sorry. i’m having dinner with y/n tonight.”

you felt tommy’s scoff more than you heard it. “again? when was the last time you hung out with us, man? seems a little clingy if you ask me.”

ouch. clingy. you’d been called it more times than you could describe in past relationships, being told you’re “too much.” you’d confided in steve about it, as well. your deep-rooted insecurities that you were overwhelming and annoying, your affections drowning.

he’d assured you with that smile that was just so steve that you were the perfect amount. that he loved your attention and endearments, and for the first time, you’d believed him. surely he would defend you, right? wrong.

his laugh met your ears, and you swore you could hear a little crack in your chest as your eyes began to water. if only you could see his face, you’d see how forced and uncomfortable he truly looked. “i mean, i guess.”

“i’m telling you, it’s toxic. i had a girl like that before, had to ditch her. wasn’t healthy, y’know? you gotta look after you man.” your breath hitched, anxiously awaiting his response. there was silence for a couple of moments, and then… “yeah, you’re right. i’ll think on it. thanks, tommy.”

“no problem, dude.” you could taste the salty tears running down your cheeks onto your lips. you briefly heard the crinkle of paper as your hand made a fist. you had to get out of here. you turned, mood drastically different than when you entered, and left the foul-smelling building.

the whole way home as you drove, the words repeated in your head. clingy. toxic. clingy. toxic. you’d just have to show him that you could be different, then.

ᝰ.ᐟ

it had been two weeks. two weeks of no phone calls, no hand-holding in the halls, no dates, nothing. just forced laughs and a distant look in your eyes whenever he spoke. steve was going mad, racking his brain for whatever could’ve caused this.

he’s lost count of the times he’s asked you if you were alright. before this, you would’ve looked at him with a fond smile and a roll of your eyes, leaning on his shoulder and replying, “i’m fine, stevie! you worry too much.” now, all he gets is an unconvincing mhm and a too-bright smile.

he’s unbelievably confused. and more than that, scared. what had happened to make you act like this? so… not you? which is how he finds himself outside of your house sunday morning, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hand and an anxious deposition.

he’s going to apologize. what for, he has no clue, but it doesn’t matter. he needs you back. not this robotic version of you. palms sweaty, he brings his hand to knock, hearing a couple of shouts and jingling before the door opens to reveal your mother.

“oh, steve! hey, sweetie. i didn’t know you were coming. y/n is just upstairs, you can head on up.” he murmurs a tiny thank you, slipping off his shoes before walking up the stairs, passing the photos of you throughout the years on the way. his chest clenches.

he reaches your door. closes his eyes. inhales. exhales. opens his eyes. and then knocks. he hears a tiny, “come in,” and slowly twists the knob. there you are, in all of your glory, hair in a tussled bun as you sit on your windowsill, book in hand. you look up, and steve swears his can see the briefest flash of panic in your eyes before you shutter it and put your book down.

“what are you doing here?” it slips out of your mouth before you can stop it. is he here to finally break up with you? he hesitates, and then takes a seat at your desk across from you.

“did i… do something? to make you like this?” he waves his hand towards you, and your brows furrow. he continues you before you can say anything. “i mean, you haven’t called me ‘stevie’ in weeks. you barely talk to me, we only see each other at school, and when we do, you’re not actually there. you’re like- like detached. i miss you. please let me fix whatever this is.” his chest huffs from the speed of which he spoke the frantic words, and you blink, confused.

“i… i thought this was what you wanted?” you say, voice small and perplexed. steve lets out a disbelieving, sad laugh. “why the hell would i want that?” you pause, and then to his utmost horror your eyes begin to fill with gut wrenching tears. you sniffle, and his his heart breaks.

“i heard you. with tommy, in the gym. you-” hiccup. “he said that i was clingy and toxic. said that you should break up with me. you… you agreed. i thought that… that if i give you some space-” steve’s expression is a horrified, panicky visage of despair. “oh god, honey, no. fuck. i’m so, so sorry. i would never.” he stands, and within a moment, he’s with you, holding your shaking form in his arms.

“i just said that to get him off my back. tommy is an asshole, and he’ll never change or understand my viewpoint. there’s no point in arguing with him. i’m so, so sorry that i made you think that. jesus, if anyone’s the clingy one, it’s me. i was going insane. i love you. i love your ‘clinginess’ more than you could ever understand. it makes me feel loved and wanted, and i’m so sorry that i made you feel the opposite. i want my girl back.”

your tears are leaking into his shirt, each one feeling like a punch to his gut. he holds you tighter, as if the stronger his embrace, the more he could chase away your insecurities. you sniffle, hope slowly creeping back up. “really?”

“fuck yes, really. i brought you white roses and everything. i will get on me knees and beg, if you want me to.” a giggle slips out of your mouth, and steve feels his heart slowly being glued back together.

“what a sight that would be. king steve, begging for my forgiveness.” he pulls away, hand gripping your jaw gently. “i don’t want to be king steve. i want to be stevie, yeah?” a soft, teasing smile appears on your face.

“i thought you hated that nickname.”

“i’d kill a demogorgan to get it back right now.” he answers with no hesitation, complete seriousness in his unwavering gaze. you laugh, and the sight makes steve want to cry out of relief.

“i forgive you, stevie.” his lips are on yours in an instant, the kiss sloppy and desperate and everything you both need. every swipe of his tongue a reassurance, every whimper a promise. “thank you.” he speaks against your lips, over and over again. he pulls away, both of you panting and flushed, foreheads rested together. “i love you.” he whispers, the syllables drifting out of his mouth and straight into your chest. “i love you, too.” it’s silent for a peaceful moment, and then…

“oh my god, i got an A+ on my chem test!!!”

#fanfic #oneshot #fluff #angst #x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #blurb

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roosterforme · 4 months ago

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In the Navy Now | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: When Bradley and Jake catch their wives in the midst of a lie, Bradley wonders what made you think you couldn't be honest with him. He soon realizes you have a trick up your sleeve, one that makes his work day a lot more exciting.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, adult language, math as foreplay

Length: 3900 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time but it can be read on its own! Check out my masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

"You know what really sucks?" Bradley mused as he sat at a table for two in the cafeteria on base.

"What's that?" Jake asked in response, digging his fork into a bowl of pasta.

Bradley looked around the room at everyone else and sighed. "You and I are forced to socialize all the time now, because our wives are best friends."

He saw Jake on Saturday, and also last night at the bar, and again every damn day at work.

Jake shrugged as he took a bite of his lunch. "It's not that bad."

"Speak for yourself. I literally can't understand what Jessica sees in you."

As soon as he heard Jake's laugh, Bradley knew what was coming. "You're literally the last person who should be making comments like that. Your wife is so hot, it's absolutely unbelievable she is with you willingly. She had ten years to come to her senses."

Bradley smiled as he thought about you. "She missed me."

Jake was shaking his head. "She must have been with some seriously ugly guys or something in those ten years."

Bradley was laughing now as he said, "I'm telling you, she missed me as much as I missed her."

"Riiiight. I'm about to text her and ask for verification on that one."

Bradley poked at his salad and murmured, "Don't even bother. She's in some sort of math seminar with Dean Walters all day. Told me not to try reaching her unless it's an emergency."

"Are you sure?" Jake asked, giving him a funny look. "Jess said she had a department meeting with the dean today. For the science department."

Bradley rolled his eyes. "Yeah, of course I'm sure. I even packed her an extra snack. Unlike you, I actually listen to my wife when she talks. I'm sure you're wrong."

But Jake was already digging in the pocket of his flight suit for his phone, and when he unlocked it and slid it across the table, Bradley picked it up. He skimmed a text that Jessica sent just a few hours ago.

I love you! Don't forget, I'll be unreachable most of the day. Physics meeting with Dean Walters.

Bradley frowned. If this was true, then you lied to him. You never lied to him. He tried his best to let you know that you never had to do that. But now he remembered that you even went so far as to tell him you didn't need a ride home from campus today, and that actually seemed suspicious, too.

"Why do they want us to think they're busy all day?"

"It doesn't really make any sense," Jake said as he set his fork down. "Damn. Jess knows she can talk to me about anything."

"Yeah," Bradley grunted, "I don't like this shit." The uneasy feeling seemed to spread through his entire body as he stood. "We need to get going. Special class today, remember?"

"Fuck," Jake muttered under his breath, clearly as excited about the guest lecturer as Bradley was. Sitting in the classroom for a few hours was usually always tedious compared to flying, but the lectures that Cyclone had been adding to their schedules randomly over the past few months were worse than the most boring class Bradley ever took at the University of Virginia.

"Let's get this over with," he said, dropping his tray off and fighting the urge to text you just to see what you'd have to say. Now he was going to have to figure out a way to call you out about lying later. But it was still puzzling him as to why you and Jessica would both tell the same exact lie. What was the point of that? If you didn't want Bradley to bother you at work, that was all you needed to say. But it wasn't like he was annoying like Jake was; he could understand Jessica needing a break from her husband, but did you need one too?

He was still trying to figure out if there was something going wrong with his marriage when he walked into the classroom. Cyclone was standing at the front, hands on his hips, glaring at Bradley and Jake as they walked inside with two minutes to spare. The only seats left were both up in the front row, and Bradley groaned as he dropped down into one of them. The last guest speaker they had spit the entire time he talked, and the one before that spoke at full volume like she was teaching a room full of hundreds of people rather than the twenty four that were gathered.

"I regret not getting here early," Jake murmured, and Bradley nodded as he shifted in his seat and messed with the cuffs of the sleeves of his flight suit. He was really hung up on what you could possibly be doing today, and he knew that he wasn't going to be able to pay attention to this lecture topic at all. And that's when he noticed what was written on the white board behind Cyclone.

THE PHYSICS OF PROPULSION AND MATHEMATICAL FORMULATIONS IN SINGLE SEAT F/A-18 JETS

He groaned, because even the word mathematical made him think about you. This was about to be a long afternoon. Then Admiral Simpson cleared his throat, and Bradley forced his attention to the man in front of him.

"Welcome. Today's lecture topic is of the utmost importance regarding updates that will be made to your aircrafts this year. We will take a look at jet propulsion and the calculations specific to your F/A-18s before the new NATOPS is even released. We have two guest speakers who are professors from San Diego State University's math and physics departments, and they have graciously agreed to spend some time on this topic with us."

"No way," Bradley whispered, convinced it had to be you. He swiveled around in his seat so fast, he thought he might have broken it as he hung over the arm into the aisle when the classroom door opened. He could hear her high heels on the floor before he realized he was looking at Jessica enter the room, but then his heart skipped around in his chest just like the first time he saw you over ten years ago at his fraternity house. You looked fucking hot as sin, strolling in behind Jake's wife with a folder in your hand and a smirk on your red lips. Your eyes found his immediately as he sat there gaping at you while you made your way to the front of the room, but other than a little nod in his direction, you gave him nothing.

"Holy shit," Jake hissed next to him as Bradley nodded in agreement, his eyes glued on your body as he heard Cyclone introduce you and Dr. Jessica Reed by name. You gave the room at large a little wave, but your eyes flicked him, and Bradley let out the breath he had apparently been holding as he relaxed into his seat. So this must have been why you tried to make it seem like you were extremely busy today. Maybe you and Jessica didn't want him and Jake to catch on to the fact that you'd be presenting their class.

As Jessica started talking, he took in every inch of your appearance. You knew exactly what you were doing to him, and you were doing it very well. Bradley was proficient at calculus, having attended many of your college level math lectures. Sometimes he surprised you, but sometimes you knew ahead of time that he planned on being there. It didn't hurt that the lectures he attended usually ended with sex or a blowjob for him. Somehow math had turned into a form of foreplay for the two of you, and Bradley couldn't get enough. You'd praise him when he was able to solve a difficult problem, and the rewards were always sexy.

He was used to seeing you like this when he visited San Diego State University, but getting to witness your brilliance on the Naval base was already so exciting. Right now, he was already having a difficult time sitting still as he grew hard at the sound of your voice.

"The calculations related to your Super Hornets are so precise, we'll just take a look at a handful of examples to give you an idea of what we mean," you said, opening up your folder on the table as Bradley ran his sweaty palms on his flight suit. You were only a few feet away from him. He could smell your shampoo. He could count the little silver buttons on the side of your skirt. He had to bite his lip as you turned toward the white board and uncapped a marker as you said, "Please, let me know if I'm going too fast."

He could pick your writing out easily, but there was something about the way you always chose the letter B for your variables when he was watching. Your smooth penmanship started to fill the board as you talked your way through the problem, but Bradley could barely take his eyes off your ass. He turned around briefly to make sure nobody else had the same idea he did, but it was hard to tell. The younger guys looked a lot more enthusiastic than they usually did, and he might have to pound some sense into them later. Didn't they know you were his fucking wife?

But maybe they didn't. You kept your name the same when you got married. So did Jessica for that matter. Now Bradley sat a little taller in his seat as he realized he was married to one of the two extremely hot PhDs who all the other men in the room were drooling over.

"Does that make sense?" you asked, turning back to face them with a satisfied look on your face. "Dr. Reed can take over explaining the actual physics of the aircraft propulsion, and then I'll jump back in with the next calculation."

Bradley smiled at you while Jessica started talking again, and he could tell you were trying not to look at him as your lips curled into a grin. God, you were just fucking perfect. Smart and silly and sexy. And the two of you had so much history together, he could practically read the thoughts on your face.

"Did they dress like this on purpose?" Jake croaked softly.

"I know mine did," Bradley whispered. Your little tweed skirt and loafers screamed east coast academic. It looked as good on you as his tie dye shirt always did. It was just as sexy as lingerie. It was almost pornographic to him at this point. But today you had them paired with a blazer and a bodysuit. A bodysuit. He loved those things with the little snaps that held them closed as they hugged your curves. He was almost certain you'd skipped a bra. He couldn't wait to find out for sure.

Jessica was still talking about jet propulsion. Bradley would ask you to explain it to him later if it was actually important. Right now, you were slowly buttoning and then unbuttoning your blazer over and over again while you alternated between consulting your notes and stealing glances at Bradley. He was too warm as he watched your fingers work, and your eyes caught his as he leaned forward in his seat.

"Hey, Sugar," he mouthed, and your gaze dropped back to your folder as you bit your lip and smiled. He was ready to go home. Take you to bed. Or maybe get a private lecture in your home office. Or maybe drive all the way to the college and visit one of the library study rooms. You made everything so exciting, he wanted all of it.

When Jessica handed the lecture back over to you, Bradley squirmed in his seat as you wrote another calculation on the board. Jake was really no better in the seat next to him, and he realized the two of them must look like idiots at the moment. But you were making a subtle math joke that he understood, and when you glanced over your shoulder, your engagement ring sparkled under the fluorescent light.

"Now this is how the updates will actually make your aircrafts more fuel efficient," you said as you easily worked through a calculation that looked so complicated, Isaac Newton wouldn't have been able to solve it. Bradley's cock was still half hard, and he wasn't exactly sure how he was going to be able to stand up after this. But then you really threw him for a loop when you casually added the equation from your tattoo into the middle of the mess of mathematics on the white board. Now the only thing he could think about was your tits. Or rather, him running his lips along your math titty tattoo.

Bradley wasn't going to be able to sit still for much longer, but you turned around and asked, "Does anyone have any questions?"

He had to sit there and listen to several of the other guys ask you the most idiotic questions just so they could have your attention. Then Bradley raised his hand and waited until you pointed at him and said, "Lieutenant Bradshaw?" with an amused look on your face. "You have a question?"

"Yeah," he said, voice raspy. "I do, professor. If the variable B is directly related to propulsion, then how is that going to affect my thrust?"

He kept a straight face while you fought to do the same. You cleared your throat, took a step in his direction, and said, "You're going to need to have some additional thrust, Lieutenant."

Bradley nodded and gave you a thoughtful look. "Hmmm, that's what I thought. And it looks like a very complicated calculation."

You stood there in front of everyone in your little tweed skirt and the diamond ring he gave you and said, "If you'd like a more thorough explanation, I wouldn't mind spending a few minutes with you afterwards, Lieutenant."

As he leaned back in his seat, he told you, "I look forward to it."

So Bradley listened to Jessica while you occasionally interjected, and he kept his eyes on your face as his excitement started to build even more. When the afternoon lecture was finally over, he and Jake both stayed in their seats while Cyclone shook hands with the two of you.

"How long do you think they've been planning this?" Jake whispered, his voice hoarse.

"Not sure," Bradley replied as you collected your notes into your folder. "But I intend to find out." He was impressed as hell that you managed to pull this off without him noticing, but his skin was tingling with need. He desperately wanted to get his hands on you after you worked him up with all of the intellectual teasing.

As soon as Cyclone dismissed everyone, Jake was on his feet, dragging Jessica out of the classroom, but Bradley didn't move an inch in his seat. His cock was hard, and you were running your hand along your tweed covered hip as you smiled at him. But then he had to endure one of the younger aviators who was new to Top Gun trying to chat you up when he should have just left the classroom with the others. When you turned to face him instead, annoyance washed through Bradley's veins.

"Uh, hi, uh I actually studied mathematics at the Naval Academy, and I graduated three years ago, and uh, I was just wondering if you would want to get a drink with me sometime and talk more about, um, some of the topics you covered about propulsion and thrust-"

"Fuck off, man," Bradley barked. "She's wearing goddamn wedding rings. And she's not interested."

Your hand slipped over your lips as you laughed silently while the younger man looked at Bradley in shock. "Oh. Right. Okay," he muttered before hightailing it from the now nearly empty classroom.

"That wasn't very nice," you said, fighting against a smile. "He seemed really sweet. I was going to let him shoot his shot."

Bradley stood with a soft groan, his erection pressing against the zipper of his flight suit. "I was promised a private tutorial session, Dr. Sugar. I'm not about to let a twenty-something year old take up any of my time."

Without hesitation, you walked over to him and started to slowly unzip his flight suit. "Hate to break it to you, Beer Boy, but you were a twenty-something year old when I fell in love with you."

You ran your fingers along his undershirt, and Bradley glanced at the open classroom door as he whispered, "I hope you know you're not leaving this room until you're full of my cum."

"Lieutenant Bradshaw!" you gasped, eyes wide and surprised. But your hand was dipping lower to his abs, and he could tell you were as turned on as he was. "This is a tutoring session!"

Bradley wrapped his hand around your wrist and gently led you toward the door which he immediately closed. "I want to know how the hell you managed to pull this off. I had no idea you and Jessica were going to be teaching a class for the Navy."

"We've been working on our lesson plan for weeks," you said with a smirk as Bradley placed both of your palms on the door and flipped the light switch off. In the dimly lit room, you whispered, "We wanted it to be a surprise."

Bradley stood behind you, facing the door and kissed your neck above your unbuttoned blazer. "And here I thought you lied to me about your plans because you needed a break from me."

You moaned softly as his nose traced the shell of your ear. "Oh, please. It's not like you're annoying like Jake. I don't need a break from you, Beer Boy."

"Hmm, then what do you need from me?" he asked softly, letting one hand slide up your bodysuit while he confirmed that you were not wearing a bra. Your nipples were tight peaks as he stroked them through the fabric with one big hand, and you bumped your ass back against his erection.

"I need you to tell me what you know about thrust, Lieutenant," you stated in your teacher voice which made him grind against you.

"I know you like it when I give you a little thrust," he grunted, guiding your tweed skirt up your thighs as you gasped.

"Is this a good idea?" you asked, still pressing your body back against his. "Should we wait until we get home?"

"Can't," he growled, yanking your skirt up over your ass and wrapping his hands around your hips as he looked down at the perfect view. "You got me too worked up. You know what your lectures do to me. And this time it was on my home turf."

Your hands were still planted on the door as you glanced at him over your shoulder. "Almost like I'm in the Navy now. Lieutenant Sugar? Should I get a uniform?"

"Oh, fuck. You know I couldn't handle that. Besides, I'm really partial to your tweed." He was running his knuckles down your rear end as he whispered, "Please, let me fuck you. I'll be quick, Baby."

His fingers were already at the snaps on your bodysuit that hid your pussy from his touch when you said, "Do it."

With a flick of his wrist, the snaps sprung free, and he ran his finger along your slit. Your back arched as he carefully pulled his cock free from his unzipped flight suit and underwear, and then he was guiding you to your tiptoes as he slipped himself inside you.

Bradley wrapped one hand around your waist and braced the door closed with the other as he buried himself deep inside you. Your soft gasp sounded beautiful as he sucked on your neck and gave you a few deep strokes. When he started to go faster, your fingers curled against the door as you whined his name, and he asked, "How's my thrust?"

Your head tipped back against his shoulder as you whispered, "You're just about there. Maybe a little harder."

Always wanting to be your top student, he did exactly as you told him and picked up the pace, letting himself slam against your ass. Your tight pussy felt so fucking good, and normally he'd draw this out as long as possible, but not today. He let your grip on him take over all of his senses, and soon he was grunting next to your ear, lips parted as he fucked you up against the door in a classroom at Top Gun.

"This is filthy as hell," he muttered, jerking his hips in an uneven rhythm. "Fucking my perfect wife on base. During work hours."

"Beer Boy," you gasped when he slammed deep and held himself there. He did it again, loving the sound of his body meeting yours so intimately. A third time, and the pull along his spine as you moaned was too much. You had complete control over him.

Bradley gave it to you hard until he was panting. He let himself come as you turned and looked back at him, licking those sinful lips. "Jesus, fuck, holy shit," he groaned before kissing your lips softly as he gave you a few more thrusts before pulling himself free.

He was still a little hard as he tucked himself back into his flight suit and zipped it up again. When he went to fix your bodysuit, he ended up with his fingers coated in your arousal mixed with his cum as he did the snaps once again.

"Good as new," he murmured as you tugged your skirt down and turned to face him. He kissed you again before he said, "We should get out of here."

You nodded and collected your folder before pulling the door open and strolling casually out into the hallway like you didn't have his sticky cum rubbing against your inner thighs. "Now that you're all squared away with your thrust variable," you told him as he licked his fingers clean, enjoying the way the two of you tasted together, "you'll be even faster, Lieutenant."

Bradley snickered as you and he rounded the corner. "I hope you mean in the air. Quickies aren't really my thing, unless we're in a library study room or apparently an empty Naval classroom."

"There you are, professor." Cyclone was trying to flag you down, and Bradley watched you stumble as you headed off in his direction. He wasn't even sure if Admiral Simpson knew you and he were married, but the other man looked overjoyed as he said, "I've already been getting wonderful feedback about you and Dr. Reed, and I'm hoping you'll both agree to come back next month for another lecture on a different topic."

Bradley groaned and just kept walking. He would wait for you in the parking lot where he'd have a moment to himself to collect his thoughts. More sexy tweed and his hot wife in the classroom? Another lecture topic? Hours of mathematical foreplay that nobody else seemed to pick up on? Quickies were about to become his thing.

------------------------------

I missed Beer Boy and Sugar SO MUCH! She's such a queen, she literally just has to exist to make him lose his mind. But she knows what she did here. She knows. Thanks for reading!

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ladykailitha · 4 days ago

Text

Shut Up and Drive Part 4

If you didn't see chapter three, it is not your fault, Tumblr has hidden the damn thing and it's been two weeks. I can see it on my dashboard and even through the app, but site wide and on browser, nada! I even looked through it and couldn't find anything mature to shadow ban it. Hopefully you'll be able to see this one and it'll have the link to the third chapter.

This story is almost complete. I just have one or two more chapters to go and it's done. I am so excited for you guys to see the end.

In this we have Eddie in AP history, along with Robin and Steve. Yes, Steve. I am still on my Steve is smart and a history nerd agenda.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Monday morning was rife with speculation on who had called the cops. Eddie chuckled as the racers tried double speak their way out of revealing themselves to their peers.

The only one who wasn’t there come Monday was Steve Harrington. The rumor mill was as much a buzz with his absence as they were with cops breaking up the races.

Eddie had his own theory on who had called the cops. It was either King or Chronos. King for being beat to hell and not being able to race and not wanting to lose. Or Chronos for not wanting to go up against King and lose.

Then he spotted Tommy Hagan.

He looked smug as hell and suddenly Eddie got it. Holy shit, that asshole! He knew Chronos was going to beat King or at least get a hell of a lot closer than Titan would have and didn’t want to be shown up in front of everyone.

Eddie was tempted to go over there and punch Tommy in the face, break a nose, knock out a couple teeth, but he promised Wayne he wouldn’t start any fights, but he was allowed to finish them.

Billy Hargrove caught him staring at Hagan, though. “Hey Munson, take a picture it’ll last longer. Never mind, you’d fwap to the photo.”

“You jealous, Hargrove?” Munson shot back. “You worried I’ll stop jacking off to your picture?”

Billy flexed his arms as if he was going to hit Eddie, but just then a teacher walked by, and Eddie fell in step with them, keeping the teacher between Billy and himself.

The teacher looked over at him and then sighed. “I know what you’re doing Mr. Munson, and I do not appreciate being used as a human shield.”

Eddie grinned down at him. “But Mr. Burton, I am merely on my way to class and we are going the same direction. Besides I am sticking to the edict of avoiding fights with my peers.”

Mr. Burton shook his head. “I thought you had Mrs. Click this period and I am certain she is on the other side of the building.”

“Then are you not heading for your own class, Mr. Burton?” Eddie asked all wide eyed. “I assumed that to be the case when I started walking with you, as your class is right across from hers. You know, both being history teachers and all.”

Mr. Burton turned and looked up at him with a small smile. “I can’t pull the wool over your eyes, you got me. You are going the right direction. I just wanted to see if I could trick ya.”

“Mr. Burton! You tease!” Eddie gasped. “They should take back your teacher of the year award for being so saucy.”

Mr. Burton laughed. “How do you think I got the award in the first place?” He winked at him.

Eddie never had a problem with his history or English classes, so he always got along with the history teachers. Well... most of them. Mrs. Click was a damn fine history teacher, but no one liked her.

“I wish I was in your class this year,” Eddie admitted, ducking his head.

Mr. Burton patted his arm in sympathy. “I know. I also heard she’s flunking you and that’s one of the reasons you’re not graduating.”

Eddie let out a shuddering breath. “I don’t know why I’m forced to take a history class again, anyway. I have enough credits for history. It’s math, science, and PE that I need.”

“I don’t know, Eddie,” Mr. Burton said sadly. “But I’ll see if I can get together with a couple of the other teachers and see you can’t graduate based on your actual credits and not just them having you repeat your senior year ad nauseum.”

“Thanks, Mr. B.,” Eddie replied with a pained grin. “This is me, so I’ll see you around.”

“Bye, Eddie.”

Eddie slumped down in the desk farthest from the front of the room and waited for the rest of the students to file in. Mr. Burton might be ignorant about why Mrs. Click was failing him, but Eddie had no such delusions. He was in her AP class and she was so sure he was cheating instead of, you know, actually knowing the subject.

He watched as the other students filter into the class. It was a strange mish-mash of juniors and seniors and then whatever the fuck he was.

The smartest of the juniors were Robin Buckley and Fred Benson. They definitely deserved to be there. Most of the class were seniors and the greatest dark horse of the class, even more so himself was Steve Harrington and as near as Eddie could figure, he was writing Mrs. Click’s tests.

He was that good. And because he was that good, she let him get get away with murder. He loved to stroll in fifteen minutes late with a bagel that he would eat, making a mess.

That wasn’t even the worst part of the bagel. It was the way he would chipmunk the thing, his cheeks bulging with the large pieces of bagel that he would shove into his mouth. Eddie had to moved directly behind the guy so that he wouldn’t go feral at the sight.

But there would be no bagel porn today because Harrington was home sick. Thank whatever higher power was out there for that.

When Buckley walked in and saw that the seat in front of her was empty she sighed with relief. Most likely for a similar but opposite problem Eddie had. While Steve was Eddie’s crush, he was pretty sure Steve was drawing all the attention away from her crush.

Which even as far as girls went, Tammy Thompson was not on Eddie’s radar at all. Like sometimes he could tilt his head and go, ‘oh yeah, she’s cute’ and not want to bang said girl, but Tammy? He just didn’t get it.

Yes, yes. He knew he was being hypocritical with the Steve crush especially with what he told Jeff just a couple of months ago. But Steve seemed to grow on him.

Not that Steve improved upon closer inspection. Steve was still a smart ass with more sass then sense. But instead of irritating him like it had done in the past...Eddie found it...argh...cute!

He kept that shit to himself though.

He suffered through the class and shambled out the door to his next class, which thankfully was was Mr. Cohen’s class. Science fiction and fantasy writing. Eddie had taken it as an elective to see he could get more English credits.

Mr. Cohen was also the journalism teacher and yearbook supervisor. So he was having the class write poems and shit for the Reflections magazine because there was a distinct lack of interest that year.

Poems were just song lyrics not set to music yet, so Eddie was a having the time of his life.

“The king on his steed

A heart filled with greed

Races to fill some other need

He rushes forward thundering at great speed”

Okay so it wasn’t his best, but he got Mr. Cohen to laugh at all of them rhyming so he counted that as a win.

“All right, class,” Mr. Cohen said after the bell rang. “We going to read a relatively new book in the sci-fi genre called ‘Ender’s Game.’ It came out in January but it took me this long to get it approved for this class. So I want everyone to come up and pick up a copy. On the inside of each book is a number from one to twenty-seven, you will put your name on the signout sheet next to the number of your book. Please do not outline, draw in, or otherwise deface this book, if you do or you lose it, you’ll pay for it, do you understand?”

The class nodded.

They all filed up to the front of the class to grab their book. Eddie hung back until almost everyone else had picked up theirs. He strangely got number eight, but he dutifully put his name to next to the number and shuffled back to his desk.

“All right, everyone,” Mr. Cohen said. “I want everyone to start reading chapter one to yourselves. Then be ready on Wednesday to talk about your thoughts.”

Eddie started reading the book and was immediately drawn into the world, he was pretty sure he finish the book by tonight.

Which meant he would probably reread the thing several times before the class was over. Which was a plus as far as he was concerned.

He was actually disappointed when the bell rang for lunch. He shoved the book into his backpack and made for the lunch room.

Again not having Harrington gaze at, made for dull lunch. Well he would have to make his own entertainment then.

He got up on the lunch table and starting a rant about how unless the kid enjoyed it and wanted to do something with math or science, students shouldn’t have take them past the basic level. He was never going need to know the golden ratio or e=mc2 or whatever working for the factory down or as a mechanic.

Just as the principal came rushing in Eddie leapt off the table and neatly on his feet.

“Hi!” he said brightly.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to climb up on the furniture of this school,” Principal Higgins snarled. “Just because you were raised in a barn does mean you get you get treat other people’s property like you’re an animal.”

“Ahh...” Eddie said with the tilt of his head. “I wouldn’t go around talking about my mom that way if I were you. It’s not her fault she got cancer and passed away.”

Principal Higgins looked like he had swallowed a very sour lemon. “Just don’t do it again, do you hear me, Munson?”

Eddie just grinned at him, hands on his hips, staring him down. Eddie cocked his eyebrows and tilted his head, daring the principal to put him in detention, suspend him, or out and out expel him.

Principal Higgins did none of those things. He turned on his heel and stormed off, snarling something at one of the lunch ladies as he passed.

“Well that wasn’t very friendly,” Eddie told the assembled students. “Lunch ladies are sacrosanct, everyone knows that.”

He walked up to the offended lady in question and offered to buy her a Coke, one which she gratefully accepted.

He went back to his table and Jeff glared at him. “You do know you only need two years of both math and science, right?”

“And what good is algebra or geometry going do me working at Thacher’s Tires?” Eddie growled back. “All I need is to know fractions and weights and measurements. I don’t need to find pi or know the circumference of a circle to change a fucking tire.”

“No, but you need to know the radius of the tire to make sure you don’t put the wrong one on,” Jeff said cocking his head to the side.

Eddie blinked at him for a moment. “Well, shit.”

“Hey, leave him alone,” Brian bit out. “He just found out that it was those two classes that held him back. Again. They’re not for everyone. And yeah some basic geometry is required for life, but pass me on needing to know what a fucking cosign is for working at Bradley’s Big Buy.”

Jeff’s jaw dropped. “Oh. Damn, man. I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

Eddie picked at his pretzels and kicked the leg of their table. “It is what it is.”

“Still,” Jeff said with a heavy sigh. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I know it’s tough for you.”

“It’s okay,” he mumbled and went back to mindlessly chewing on his sandwich.

It didn’t even have mustard on it. It wasn’t like he forgot, it was that they couldn’t afford to get to the store. All the money he made over the weekend went to buying tires for Wayne’s truck. They were starting to get more bald then the owner of the truck and that was dangerous.

Which meant no mustard for his bologna sandwich.

He jumped when something landed square in the middle of his lunch box. He picked it up and it was one of those mustard packets you get at ballparks and the State Fair. He looked up to see Jeff looking at him.

“The deli my mom gets her pre-made sandwiches from,” Jeff said, “comes with little packets of mayo and mustard and since I don’t like mustard I figured you could use the extra.”

Eddie swallowed around the lump in his throat. It was as good as an apology as any. “Thanks, man.”

He ripped open the packet with his teeth and smeared it all over one side of his sandwich. He took another bite and moaned happily, mustard catching on the edge of his mouth.

“Gross,” Jeff said shaking his head and throwing napkins at Eddie’s face, one of them managing to stick to the glob of mustard.

Eddie cackled, wiping off his face. “Mustard is the seed of life, dude. You are seriously missing out.”

“Seed of life or not,” Jeff huffed, “that stuff is nasty. I can smell it from here.”

Brian shrugged his shoulders. “Mustard isn’t that bad. I like it in my mom’s meatloaf and in my potato salads.”

“But that’s mixed with other things to mask it’s vile nature,” Jeff insisted. “Anywhere else and you’re beggin’ the devil’s pardon.”

Eddie sat back with a smile on his face, already feeling a little better than when he started his lunch.

The lunch bell rang and he packed up his stuff, listening his friends talk among themselves, thinking today hadn’t be a complete bust.

As he made his way to his last class he over heard a couple of rich kids talking about some big party that was happening that weekend because their parents were going to be in Indy for the weekend.

Eddie slowed down as he took in the details. Things were definitely looking up.

Jeff's views of mustard are the views of the author. :D

ETA: Mr. Burton is a real person, or was I'm pretty sure he's passed considering he was my dad's teacher mentor when he did his student teaching. My 8th history teacher and he was exactly like this. He would start each class with a joke and it would always be terrible. And yes, he even got teacher of the year for his sass.

Tag List: TWO SLOTS REMAINING

1- @niniel-karenine @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 @tartarusknight @gloomysoup @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @stedestielfrattficlover @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @oopsallgender @fearieshadow

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @tinyplanet95

7- @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @ravenfrog @gutterflower77 @swimmingbirdrunningrock

8- @wheneverfeasible @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss @steddieislife

9- @1tsra1n1ngbutterfl1es @a-couchpotato @ollieolive @micheledawn1975 @jamieweasley13

10- @hattsy-likes-pretty-stuff @pentapoctopus @themoonagainstmers

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailitha writes #street racing au

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channiesgirl143 · 3 months ago

Text

MDNI!!! Not proof read,and i have no idea what the word count is.

Nerd! Big dick! Chan x Popular! Nice! Fem! Reader

(Warnings: smut,fluff,swearing,degradation,light impact play,and breath play,)

This is my first fic,please be nice but leave tips and tricks in comments,reblogs or asks!

Y/N was a little dumb,pretty,but a little dumb,doing amazing in all classes except...science...so naturally she goes to find a tutor,as she's walking down the hall after her last class,she spots Bangchan,handsome,tall (lol) and Beautifully smart,she walks over to him,asking for some help

Y/N: Hey,Chris,i have a question....

She says in her singsongy tone,Chan automatically knows she wants something

Chris: What's up?

He says with a curious but knowing raised brow.

Y/N: Would you tutor me in math please? You're the only person who will help me...

Chris thinks about it,and being the horny nerd he is,he wants something in return.

Chris:Sure,come over at 7:30 PM tonight.

Y/N nods excitedly squealing with excitement and hugging him,her arms around his neck as she jumps in excitement.

Later that day Y/N goes home from school and changes into her more comfy clothes,a sports bra and sweatpants with tennis sneakers before heading over to Chris's place,pulling into the driveway at exactly 7:29 PM.

She gets out of her car,locking it before walking up to his front door,knocking thrice.

Chris was watching Star wars waiting for Y/N to show up,he opens the door,a tent immediately pitching in his own gray sweatpants.

Chris: H-hey..

He says shyly,his cheeks flushing red as he scratches the back of his neck,stepping aside to let her in,trying not to make it obvious he's checking her out,and practically falling in love with what he sees.

He leads her over to the couch and she sits down,her breasts bulging againt the fabric of her sports bra bouncing slightly,easily giving the sensitive Chris blue balls,he had wanted her for so long dreamt of her,jerked off to her photos,and now she was on his couch,at his mercy.

Chris sits down next to her and they begin going over the material,but within minutes Y/N is pinned against the couch,Chris ontop of her,grinding his fat clothed cock against her clit through her own sweats,their tongues in a fight for dominance,he pulls away,only to rip off her sports bra,his lips immediately latching onto the rosy pebbled nipples,his hands kneading the soft flesh. She whimpers,arching into his touch as her hand tangles in his hair,tugging lightly,causing him to groan softly,he gently tugs on her nipple with his teeth,soothing the sting with his tongue,he stands up,only to flip her over onto her hands and knees,yanking down her sweatpants and panties in one go.

He leans in kissing her pussy,causing her entrance to flutter around nothing,taking off his own clothes before lining himself up behind her,tapping his fat tip,moist with precum against her drenched folds.

Chris: You want this big dick stretching out your tight little pussy? Him?

She whimpers,nodding desperately.

His free hand wraps around her throat,his tip teasing her with penetration.

Chris: Fucking beg for it,you little slut.

She whimpers.

Y/N: Please,Chris,i need your big cock stretching me out,please...

He grins,lightly tapping her cheek as he slides into her until he's balls deep inside her cunt,groaning as he bottoms out,slowly rocking his hips back and forth before relentlessly pounding into her,covering her mouth with his hand,grunting and panting into her ear,muffling her sounds.

Chris: Shh,its okay baby,i know its big,but you're gonna be a good girl and take it,aren't you? My sweet little princess,getting her cunt destroyed.

He coos mockingly,his other hand sliding to her neck,wrapping around it and pulling her head back,forcing her to arch her back as he runs a train into her (ifykyk) she whines and moans and whimpers and drools into his palm,her eyes fluttering and crossing in pleasure,her brow furrowing in ecstasy,he groans loudly, his hips stuttering as he gets closer,precum coating her insides,after just a few more minutes,he groans even louder,pumping her full of his warm cum,just in time for her to practically wail in ecstasy against his palm,her own cum mixing with his he leans down to whisper in her ear,his hips slowly coming to a stop but he doesn't pull out just yet,removing his hand from covering her mouth,he whispers.

Chris: You like that,huh? When i pump this dirty cunt full of my cum? You like it when i breed you like that filthy slut you are for me?

She nods,drool dripping down her chin as he finally pulls out of her,his cum dripping out of her cunt straight onto the couch.

Y/N: Mmm,fucking love it....

She says as he grabs his own sweats(how sweet🫠🥺) Gently cleaning her up before gently cradling her against his chest,stroking her hair and rubbing her back.

Chris: Such a good girl...

He whispers soothingly into her ear,lightly kissing it.

She whimpers softly in response,already dozing off against him but not before whispering.

Y/N: I love you...

His gaze softens as she falls asleep and he hears her whispered words,and he whispers back.

Chris: I love you too,my sweet little angel. More than anything.

Eventually he falls asleep as well,both of them content in each others embrace. Both feeling safe and warm.

#stray kids #skz #bang chan #kpop #kpop smut #bangchan smut

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ask-mister-barrel · 17 days ago

Text

🦇New Intro post🦇

Hi!!! This is a roleplay blog for Mister Barrel from FPE Advanced Class/Edgyverse :3

He's a silly goober so why not roleplay as him? Plus he's one of my biggest comfort characters-

~🦇Headcanons🦇~

- Literally a gigantic sweetheart, doesn't have the heart to hurt anyone. But unless it's an intruder or thief, He'll chase them down, corner them, and fucking kill them-

- Has gotten stuck in doorways before due to his huge size 😔

- His pupils dilate when he's excited, angry or focused.

- Can use his tail as a whip, it even makes a cracking sound like one.

- Loves receiving pets, mainly on his head and ears :3

- His back is extremely ticklish, the slightest touch there will have him laughing and giggling like crazy-

- He purrs like a cat :3

- Lightly smells like roasted marshmallows :P

- Very clingy and affectionate towards his husband. ( @mister-hotchkiss-craft-teacher )

- Pansexual boi :333

- Gets easily distracted by laser pointers-

- Even when a student or other staff member is rude towards him, he doesn't really seem to care. He's still kind towards them.

- Margret and Marvin are his adopted children.

- Please do not ask him about his past, he doesn't want to speak about it..

- The monitor covering his eye can actually play music! Mainly just a soft humming/beeping rhythm.

- If he sees even the slightest injury on someone, he will panic- And he will immediately rush them to the nurse's office-

~🦇Blog Rules🦇~

- NSFW and suggestive content is not allowed. It makes mod uncomfortable.

- No trying to harm and/or kill Mister Barrel.

- When I say stop, STOP.

- Tickle asks are allowed, just don't be a creep or weirdo about it.

- Magic anons are also allowed.

- Please do not ask for donations.

- Respect me and the people I roleplay with.

- If you don't agree with my headcanons, at least respect them.

Mister Barrel will speak in red text.

[Mod will talk in blue.]

~🦇Other teachers/Staff🦇~

@mister-hotchkiss-craft-teacher @janitor-mister-broomire @ask-misscledor-anything @ask-benedict-ignite @ask-the-alert-brothers @miss-ashachus-cafe

@math-teacher-who-loves-oreos @miss-bloomies-science-class @wendigo-language-teacher @best-art-teacher-miss-sasha @pansexual-music-teacher @ask-principal-grace

~🦇Dearest students🦇~

@ask-margaret-sterling @scotch-the-crafter @ram-the-bully

@engels-ask-blog @askclairefpe @claire-the-silly @lana-and-her-sockpuppets @abbie-appleboy @sopibub @lesbiansimp177

@oliversoapeater-official @zip-the-chaos-child @3dward-th3-s1lly

@emo-kitty-skell @riley-crazy-kid @rabies-infested-riley

@askmyfpeocs @ask-kali-stuff @ask-amy

~🦇Others🦇~

@danger-abbie @danger-zipster @danger-bloomie @science-au-oliver006 @yourlocalthief-ralph @alice-monstrous-princess @cannibalistic-forest-god

That's everything! Post may be updated if necessary.

#fundamental paper education #fpe #fpe mister barrel #mister barrel fpe #edgyverse #edgyverse mister barrel #mister barrel edgyverse #fpe roleplay #edgyverse roleplay #fpe rp #edgyverse rp #edgyaludon #edgyverse fandom #fpe fandom #character roleplay #rp blog #ask blog #sfw interaction only

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wrongbodies · 2 months ago

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The Worst Science Convention I Ever Went To, the conclusion

After track practice ended, I took Bradley back to Randy's house. Randy's Mom was out, so it was just the two of us alone. Bradley wanted to dive right into homework, he was so innocent. I on the other hand had other plans. We were sitting on the floor of Randy's bedroom, having shoved the laundry aside, with our homework splayed out in front of us. I didn't reach for my pencil, though. I reached across the pages and touched Bradley's chest.

"Ooh, is this an invitation to skip math homework?" Bradley asked, a coy smile spreading across his face.

"Of course, cutie. Let me show you what I'd rather work on." I responded. I moved in closer and pulled his face down to mine. The kisses we shared were electric. The excitement was rushing me towards my suggestion, and it was overwhelming my caution. I had planned to try and ease my way into the plan, make it sound convincing and compelling.

Instead, I sort of blundered into the explanation.

"Bradley?" I started.

"Yes, babe?" He replied. He looked down at my face quizzically, but with affection.

"What if you could be someone else?" I asked.

"What do you mean? Like personality wise? Or are we talking some sort of metaphysical thing like 'what if I was born in China?'" He chuckled gently.

"No, silly. I mean - if you could switch bodies, would you do it?" I asked, intensifying my gaze.

"Hmmm..." He trailed off, looking down. He was giving it serious thought. "I suppose I would try it. We've been talking about consciousness and metacognition in one of my classes."

"So, what kind of person would you switch with?" I probed.

"What, like you? Are you trying to be kinky?" Bradley giggled.

"Noooo, ugh! Ok, what if we could be big college guys? Athletes?" I suggested, leadingly.

"Hey, I'm already an athlete!" Bradley quipped. He pointed at his twig like arms. "I've clearly done a lot of lifting."

"Babe, I know you are a runner. But like, what if we could be stereotypical strong jock types?" I said, pushing a little bit further.

"Oh... like a typical jock? I mean, I don't mind my body. And I love the way you look!" He said. Then he blushed as he thought about what he said.

"Babe, don't be embarrassed. I know how you feel. I feel it too, sometimes. Like what if I could just skip to college, get a degree and be a hot fuckboy." I said, going a little off my imaginary script.

"You would?" Bradley seemed to regain some composure. "You wouldn't mind leaving everything behind? Even me?"

"I wouldn't leave you, cutie. We'd both switch with someone!" I laughed.

"It sounds like you've thought a lot about this." Bradley said, turning to look into the distance. He looked away for a while, and then another splash of color spread across his face. "I guess- I guess I'd go anywhere you went. I wouldn't want to lose you."

"Aww, I appreciate that. And I love you." I said. I felt my own cheeks grow warm.

"I love you!" Bradley said, diving forward to wrap me in his arms.

"So let's do it." I whispered.

"Huh?" He mumbled. "Are you saying you actually want to?"

"Ok, don't freak out. I actually know a way we can." I said, shrugging slightly.

"You're messing with me. Don't goof baaaabe, I was going along with the thought experiment." He whined.

"No, babe, I'm being honest. I know how and know where. At that science convention I went to, I saw it happen!" I explained.

Bradley's eyes grew wide. For the next few hours we spoke at length about it. While Bradley seemed initially interested, it would actually take a long time to convince him it was safe, it was real, and that it was already arranged. Then I showed him pictures of my real body, and then a player on my lacrosse team I hated. Quinn. Fuck that guy. I had to admit he was hot, but his personality was trash and he was always picking fights with me. Jealousy, if I had to guess.

Bradley was sufficiently convinced pretty late into the evening. Randy's Mom had come home and was making dinner already. It seemed Bradley was so smitten with Randy - me, that he'd give up his Dad and small group of friends at school for this.

When I said goodbye to Bradley that night, kissing him goodbye in the deepest most passionate kiss I had ever shared that night, I reminded him it was going to be a great adventure.

****

The next day Bradley and I cut class for the first time in our lives - well, Randy's first time, I had cut many classes. We were driving in Bradley's cramped little sedan across the city. We held hands as he navigated to the lab belonging to Dr. Lark.

When we pulled up to the squat brick building in a plain business park, I saw that my car was already there. I was going to be quite impressed if Randy had actually convinced Quinn to come with him. He hated me, as Seth anyways, so I wonder what Randy could have possibly told him that would get him to agree.

We walked in, and Bradley's hands were sweating profusely. I could tell because we held hands, and he was also squeezing very hard. I stopped right before the door we were told to find.

"Hey." I said quietly. "Are you ok with this?"

"Yes. I just worry something might happen to us." Bradley said.

I leaned in and kissed his forehead gently. "Nothing bad. We will be fine."

Bradley nodded, looking a bit more confident. We walked into the office, and saw that most of it had been taken over by the experimentations of Dr. Lark. The scientist was standing on top of a platform not dissimilar to the one he had set up at the convention. He waved to us as we walked in.

My body was sitting at the side of the room at a table with a surly faced college boy I recognized. In truth, Quinn is quite handsome. He just has some sort of chip on his shoulder or stick up his ass. He scowls all the time, and always seems ready to blow up at someone. Usually me, at practice or games. He looked up at us and wrinkled his nose, but didn't say anything. I had spoken to Randy and we agreed to pretend not to know each other. For this to work, we wanted it to be as clean a break as possible.

Perhaps most fortuitous for us, when we asked Dr. Lark about trying the swap with another college boy, he was on board. He didn't even ask any questions. Seems like he just wants the data for his research. So, we decided it was a good enough arrangement and proceeded. Leading to Bradley and I standing near the orb today.

Dr. Lark explained the concept, and then Randy and I stepped forward and went first. This was key because we had to make sure we could make it happen again. Dr. Lark had also done research about what happened before, realized that the drifting entangles the minds of two people, and when both minds stray too far into the others psyche, suddenly ending the drift would force the minds into the body of the current psyche they were attached to.

To track this, he had rigged up a program that would indicate in a basic way on a monitor where each consciousness was relative to their bodies.

When I placed my hand on the sphere with Randy, the sensation was much as I remembered. We drifted off into a void, sounds, sensations, lights swirling around. We mingled in our memories and experiences, before long we were feeling each others emotions currently. It was clear that Randy had been struggling in my body. He had been feeling really depressed. He also seemed a bit intrigued that I wasn't as depressed. In fact, he found the feelings I had developed for Bradley quite amusing.

Before I could process his emotions more, we were yanked out of the void. When I came to, I was there in reality once more. Everything felt good again. I looked down and saw my hands, rough from playing sports for years. My lacrosse hoodie was on, and I had on some joggers I liked. I was beaming, it felt so right to be back home. I had to mask some excitement though, I didn't want Bradley to think I was overeager, and Quinn to think something was up.

I looked at Randy and gave a subtle nod. We dismounted from the platform and let the other two take our spots. They placed their hands and slipped into the trance like we had just done. Dr. Lark watched the monitors, and when it was time, he quickly deactivated the machine.

Bradley and Quinn started to come to, and at first neither of them seemed to sense anything was different. But then Quinn's face turned towards me, in my actual body. He smiled, a warmth and kindness to his expression I had honestly never seen before. He practically jumped off the platform to come embrace me.

The real Quinn, residing now in Bradley's scrawny body was staring. He was clearly confused by the sight of his body running to and hugging his teammate and enemy. His shock deepened when they kissed dramatically. I was watching his reactions with supreme satisfaction.

"Randy, omg I feel so different. Like I can run, but also I could just-" He wrapped his much thicker arms around me and lifted me off the ground. Impressive considering my body weighed a lot more than Randy's, but Quinn was quite buff. It made sense.

"What the fuck is going on?" Quinn asked, from Bradley's quivering mouth.

"Ok, looks like it's time for you kids to get going!" Dr. Lark barked, shooing the four of us out.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Bradley stammered. It was no use, Bradley and I helped drag him out, and Randy snickered from behind.

"Ok Bradley, it's time to go home!" Randy said to Quinn, who was still aghast at his tiny new body. He grabbed him by the wrist and led him to Bradley's car, fishing his keys out of his pocket. Quinn seemed too shocked to say anything now.

My Bradley on the other hand, in Quinn's handsome body, thick arms, short gelled black hair, and thick fuzzy brows, looked at me with a familiar loving look. "Hey 'Quinn' why don't we get out of here?"

"I would like that very much, 'Seth.'" He said, warmly.

"And remember, those are our names now!" I said, smiling. I knew he'd adjust easily. He had me, his "Randy" but as long as he calls me Seth I can accept him thinking I was a nerd inside.

For a long time after that day, I pondered what really happened in that first drift. I sincerely believe I had been straight before that. But I wonder if something else happened. Maybe Randy's sexuality and love for Bradley clung to my consciousness. As time went on, we found some things from Quinn seemed to have latched on to Bradley. Thankfully not his sexuality or temperament. However, his lacrosse skills came along, which was a boon for us to keep playing together. It also made it easier to explain my lack of academic prowess. I told him it must have went to Randy's new inhabitant.

While I felt guilty sometimes about what we did to Quinn, and the lie we were telling Bradley... I was happier than ever. My parents took it surprisingly well, especially since Bradley was a good influence on my personality. I calmed down a lot, saving all my sexual energy for my hot, smart boyfriend. I never had as much affection, love, and touch in my life. And the best part, being at college we had so much more time to spend together. I was excited to see what we'd do when we graduated. Where we'd go, together.

Note: Thanks to all who have been reading my stories. I love writing, it feels like a return to my old passion. I had not been writing much or at all for years. Rest assured I am already cooking up new ideas. Another plan is to introduce 1-shot stories for the Mindweft and other concepts I've already created. In my imagination, the swaps never stop!

#malebodyswap #male body swap #maletransformation #bodyswap #body switch #body swap #gay

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devotion-disorder · 6 months ago

Note

Hey Devo! I came here to ask about if you were keeping up with DOL but I just noticed your post yesterday! I was about to ask if you just updated it because of the new Housekeeping class?

when i made that post i dont think the update was out yet haha! but just now i did just sink a couple hours trying out the update :DD I finally have proper free time now to actually play the damn game rather than living vicariously through other people's screenshots LOL

I had to open a new save because in my old save the goddamn ear slime kept stopping me from going to the housekeeping class specifically LMAOO i couldn't get rid of it even with cheats ;_; i haven't actually cooked anything so far but think its a fun addition!! vrel is right that since class is the only way to learn recipes its gonna take a looooong time to actually unlock a decent amount of them...i wasn't expecting a skillcheck a la weekly exam to successfully learn a recipe, which makes it hard bc housekeeping is probably gonna be the last skill i choose to grind esp in early game...but im excited about gifting food to the LI's :DDD

i've been getting too complacent cause before i just play with cheats to get the scenes i want but now i actually wanna try to unlock some more feats....Ive never even won the maths competition and it seems so hard 😭😭😭 and I want to save pc's virginity for wren / one of the LI's but I also want to see bailey's rescue for the stimulant kidnapping which will include a really messy gangbang encounter 💀💀💀💀

but this does remind me how crazy complex DoL as a game is like its got me planning strategically what i should do and shit. and each playthrough im still finding out new stuff like I only JUST discovered the phallic option for the science fair💀💀💀like no two playthroughs will be the same fr!!!

#ask #anon #degrees of lewdity #also somehow i managed to completely miss the entire rooftop section of the school LMAO #i think its an old update but i like that its easier to encounter whitney this way #i finally figured out why i never run into them before the rooftop was implemented #it was because i'd always have detention so id go out through the park and never the front entrance LOL

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taesanluv3r · 11 months ago

Note

kids ask dad!bonedo help with homework :P

dad!boynextdoor when their kids ask for homework help!

omgomgomg my first req omgomg tysm for sending this in <3 AND AAAAH anon i love this idea omg okay! let's get into this... lowercase intended, cuss words (i think?), cuteness! pls ignore any spelling mistakes/grammatical errors! hope u enjoy <3

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

jaehyun, the tries to help but can't dad!

when the words dad, help, and homework came out of his son's mouth his first instinct was to agree right away!

"OF COURSE I'LL HELP YOU!!!" - "when i was your age i was top of the class in math" - "division? pfffttt easy peasy"

but then his kid excitedly brings over his workbook, placing it on the table and pointing out all the word problems his teacher told him to do.

"okay so..." jaehyun begins, sitting very closely beside his child. "if jamie had twenty three apples and sandy had twenty seven...how would they equally have enough to give to izzie using the...the power of friendship????"

he swears he understands it, he swears he knows EXACTLY what the word problems mean. he goes over it again and again and it's starting to sound a bit like he has no clue what he's doing!!

"dad...if you don't know how to do it that's okay" - "no, NO!! i know this, trust me"

it goes on for another hour and they still haven't gotten past the first question. all of a sudden, like an angel sent by the unknown entity above, jaehyun's wife enters the room.

"homework? ooh let me see..."

she takes one look at the problem and then proceeds to look at jaehyun with eyes full of disbelief. so as to say "are you serious??"

"look, all you need to do here is add how many sandy has with how many jamie has right...and then divide it by three so they all have equal amounts to share with izzie!"

myung jaehyun grins, watching with the biggest heart eyes as the woman he married continued to help their son with his silly math homework.

"thank god i married a genius" he says, wrapping his arms around her waist later that night. "babe, it doesn't take a genius to do elementary school division"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

riwoo, the teasing but helpful dad!

i think riwoo would be the jokester kind of a dad. like he will take up every opportunity to crack dad jokes and tease his kids.

"dad, i need your help with homework" - "why do you need my help? don't they teach you kids in school? isn't that the whole point of school?" and his daughter just looks at him like -_- while he laughs his ass off at his own jokes.

"will you help me or not, dad?" and riwoo just sighs and nods, telling her to show him what homework it was.

this could go one of two ways. one, it was math or science and he'll sit with her for a few hours on the dining table, slowly going through each question one by one. or two, which is what's happening in this case, and the homework was for the kid's PE class...

prayers for riwoo's daughter, it's about to be a long night.

"and up, two, three, four and- stop, stop, stop" riwoo says as he stopped recording for the fifth time. "what is it now, dad?" she says out of breath. "are you really gonna submit a video of yourself doing jumping jacks looking like those flailing mascots at the gas station?!" the poor kid's head is about to explode and she starts regretting ever asking her dad for help.

"i do NOT look like a flailing mascot! and can't we just hurry up and finish this? PLEASE DAD"

riwoo laughs out loud, getting a kick out of teasing his offspring.

"hehe, i'm just joking with you, love. i'll record it for real now"

but that doesn't mean he'll stop the teasing, he'll continue to make fun of her jumping jacks for the rest of her life!!!!!

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

sungho, the actually teaches his kid how to do the work dad!

sungho is so excited when his son asks him for help! he's like "omg i've been waiting for this day ever since i became a father TT"

i feel like he's the type of person who actually wants to help the kid understand his work and not just doing it for him, yk?

"okay so, i'll show you the first problem and then we'll try to figure it out the next one together, yeah?"

HE'S SO SWEET TT if his son messes up he'll reassure him that it's okay to make mistakes and it's all part of the learning process.

"see, and then you multiply the mass and the acceleration here...so if the mass of an object is 10.2kg and it's accelerating at 2.5m/s squared..." he trails off, eyes moving from the word problem and over to his child sitting beside him.

"then the force is...twenty-five...point...five...?" his kid says in an unsure tone, and sungho cracks into the biggest smile ever. "yes! and the unit is..." now he had gained some confidence, "newtons! 25.5 newtons!"

sungho cheers when he answers correctly, clapping his hands together and patting his son on his back softly as he writes down the answer onto the worksheet.

he sits with him the whole rest of the time he does homework, even if it's clear he already understands it well enough to do it on his own!

such a sweet dad TT he also gets really happy when his child comes home the next day from school and tells him that he got all the answers right on yesterday's homework.

"thanks for the help, dad" - "anytime, kiddo"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

taesan, the accidentally does the work for them dad!

"daddy i need help with this project for art"

at first it seems like he does not want anything to do with his daughter's project. taesan agrees to help anyways though (it's not like he'd ever say no to his beloved daughter...girl dad! taesan FOR LIFE), sitting across from her on the floor of their living room with all her supplies laid out.

"so what do you want me to do again?" he asks, and the kid just rolls her eyes. "my teacher gave me these instructions on how to do the paper mache, i just need you here in case my hands get dirty and i need you to pass me things"

taesan nods his head slowly, easy peasy, all he has to do is sit and watch tv while passing things to his daughter...simple.

not.

he can't help but wince as he watches his own child messily slap wet paper onto the lame excuse for a sculpture she had decided to make. it annoys the perfectionist inside of him and he's just itching to take over.

"that's not...i don't think you- you know what, darling? just go wash your hands let me do it"

"okay, daddy" she said with a big smile, beginning to get up from the floor to rinse her hands off in the sink. unbeknownst to her father however, this was his daughter's menacing plan all along. knowing her dad was a bit of a control freak, she purposely did the project badly so he'd take over <3

guess who she got the menace genes from lol

"i got an A on the paper mache sculpture i made!" - "you mean the paper mache sculpture that i! your dad! me! made"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

leehan, the there for moral support dad!

to be honest, at first he has no clue what the hell he's doing from the very moment he agreed to sit beside his daughter to do her homework.

but unlike jaehyun, he doesn't even try to hide it.

"sweetheart, i'm going to be so real i have no clue what any of this means" and she just laughs at him, "yeah i kind of got that already, dad. can you just sit here with me in case?"

"alright, i'm gonna get some snacks first, want any?"

he spends the whole time making sure his daughter isn't stressing over the assignment. he tells her to ask him about anything anyways, even if it were things he didn't understand.

"oh wait i actually do know about that one!" and he explains it to her the best that he can whenever he can.

but then when the subject is biology- or more specifically, marine biology, he gets super excited to tell her everything he knows!

he gets even more excited when she already knows all the facts too, happy that his offspring shared the same interest as him. he's literally all smiles, going back and forth with his daughter about all kinds of sea-life ecosystems and fish facts.

it doesn't even end after the assignment is completed! leehan's wife has to sit and listen to both her husband and their daughter go on and on and on about it for the whole of dinner time too!

"look dad! i got extra credit for my bio essay! the thing about the habitats that you added gave me an extra few points"

when he hears that his help turned out successful he giggles like a little girl.

"thanks so much, dad. you're the best!" she says, giving her dad a loving hug. "you're welcome, sweetheart- and i'm proud of you! i say we go to the aquarium and celebrate"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

woonhak, the go ask your mom for help dad!

i see woonhak as someone who cannot be assed to do anything related to school from the moment he graduated.

"daddy, can you help me?" when his 5 year old son came up to him like this after school, his first thought was to hand the favour off to someone else.

and who else if not his beautiful, amazing, wonderful wife?

"ah, i'm afraid i can't help you with that, kid. go ask your mommy for help, yeah?"

he thinks it's all good after that, figuring his son would go look for his mother and leave his dad alone <3

that is...until the boy starts sobbing violently in front of him. woonhak's eyes go wide and he has no clue what to do.

"woah, hey- don't cry, what's wrong?" he bends down to lift the boy up onto his lap. "mommy isn't home, i need to do this homework now! but i don't get it!" he cries and cries, all woonhak can do is pat his son's back and calm him down.

"okay, okay, i'll help you if you stop crying, okay?"

and so, kim woonhak and his son sit together on the dining table. he tries his very best to bring back everything he learnt when he was in school still, jogging up his memory for the sake of his little boy. luckily, 1st grade geometry was the one thing he still remembered clearly how to do.

"see look, now if all four sides are equal...then..." - "a triangle!" - "well no...but close! it's a...squa..squa-" - "square!" - "yes! good"

his wife comes home later that evening. "hey sweetie, have you done all your homework?" their son nods excitedly, "mhm!" - "you did it all by yourself?" she asks, a little bit shocked. "nope! daddy helped me!"

she turns to look at the man laying down on the living room couch, stuffing chips in his mouth as he watched some show on the tv.

"okay sweetie, i think i might need to take a look at that homework before you submit it tomorrow..."

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

ahhhh my first headcanon! tysm again anon for sending in this request <3 i love dad!bnd hehe. feel free to send me some more reqs over in my asks!! i rlly enjoyed writing this so i hope u guys enjoyed reading it! LOVE U ALLL mwahhhh! love, kona.

#kona's work ♡#kona's asks ♡#boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor scenarios #leehan x reader #taesan x reader #sungho x reader #riwoo x reader #jaehyun x reader #woonhak x reader #boynextdoor #boynextdoor drabbles #boynextdoor headcanons #boynextdoor thoughts

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shsl-hubris-guy · 6 months ago

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In-Depth Analysis On All The DR Characters Because What, Are You Gonna Try And Stop Me? Who Are You, My Mom? Yeah, I Didn't Think So- Part 6: Hifumi Yamada

Finally, the 'analyses progressively getting longer' curse is broken! As excited as I am to do this next write-up, there's absolutely no chance Hifumi's analysis will hit anywhere near the length of Junko's. I estimate this'll fall closer into the length of Sayaka's if anything, but I'd love to be proven wrong and find more to his character than I anticipate.

I really do love making these. Each and every one so far has opened my eyes to new facets of these characters, and sharing my conclusions with you all and hearing your own thoughts brings me an indescribable amount of happiness. Truly, there is nothing like the hubris papers :D

As always, this analysis uses only official materials, primarily English localizations of the source material, and while I do my best to maintain objectivity, it is at its core an interpretation! If you aren't interested, keep scrolling, and if you don't like it, also keep scrolling

Part 1- Character Design

Hifumi sports a fairly typical looking and clean school uniform, neatly tucked in and collar folded. He wears with it an orange backpack that matches his tie in shade, and his tie and shoes have arrow imagery as well. His tie in particular has an double-headed arrow that points up and down over his torso. This is likely meant to reference his self-given nickname, The Beginning and the End, a biblical reference.

He keeps his hair slicked neatly into a small ahoge at the center of his head, wears round glasses, and has a cat lip and double chin. He's notably the only plus sized character in THH, and was given the title of SHSL Doujin Artist, or Ultimate Fanfic Creator. He's also noticeably very clean and neat, contrasting the otaku stereotype of being messy and disorganized.

Part 2- The Otaku Caricature: A Brief Summary

'Otakus' as they're commonly known are people that define themselves by their interest in stereotypically nerdy things to an almost obsessive degree. These people are often thought to be very good at subjects like math and science, and adore manga and/or anime. And when it comes to male otakus, they're often characterized as lonely perverts who can only find comfort and companionship in works of fiction because they're too pathetic and gross for any real person to like them, and/or because they're too obsessed with their beloved worlds of fiction to bother with making human connections. There's a lot more history behind how the otaku perception has shaped over time, but this is the basic gist of what you need to know if you're unfamiliar with otakus as a concept.

Hifumi in particular is meant to represent otaku culture as it appears in Japan, as many characters in THH are designed around subcultures themselves (Mondo with bosozoku, Chihiro with otokonoko, Junko with gyaru, etc.) and like these characters, he's designed to deconstruct what this culture represents and how people within this subculture are perceived. This is an idea that's present for most of the THH cast, but is especially noteworthy with Hifumi, because his story is one of the most immediately affected by his role within his subculture, to the point where his perception as a character is inextricably linked to public perception of this subculture.

Part 3- Character Introduction

Hifumi's first lines aren't directly known as his, but are swiftly revealed to be his once you connect the voice actor to the character. Notably, his first remark is to question the class size.

"So counting him, that makes fifteen. Seems like a good cut-off point, but I wonder if this is everyone..." -Hifumi Yamada, Prologue

When actually speaking directly to him, he introduces himself proudly, giving you his nickname- "The Alpha and the Omega", or The 'Beginning and the End' in its source language- and immediately bragging about his SHSL title and how many fancomics he's sold, even at his own school. Said works are self-described to be "about embracing our basest urges," something that immediately turns Makoto off the idea of even so much as looking at it.

Quite obviously, the implication here is smut, nudity, sex appeal, etc. "Basest urges" when referred to in the context of humans in fiction are commonly referring to sex, and coming from an otaku character, the stigma of horny, creepy anime lover is almost immediately set in place for our POV character by said comment, combined with the mention that his peers weren't all so excited to see his work in a school setting.

"Some of them didn't get it, of course, saying I'd 'tainted' the event. How stupid can you be!?" -Hifumi Yamada, Prologue

So our first given impression of him is that of a creepy otaku that draws and sells fanart of his waifus. Said impression relies on the player's prior exposure to otaku characters and their stereotypes, as well as a generalized amount of fatphobia(the fatphobia as a whole will be properly broken down at the end; stick with me until then bc it will be addressed properly) that lends itself into painting this early picture and setting up the building blocks for easy misperceptions of his future actions. Because while, yes, he does draw and sell fanart of his waifus, he's not the one-note pervert this initial impression would lead you to believe.

Part 4- Early-Game Events

Hifumi almost immediately takes a backseat in the first chapter, falling to the wayside in class discussions and only chiming in for the occasional joke. In fact, he speaks up twice in the class' breakdown of the first floor- once for a fat joke, and once for a vore joke. Neither of these are during the time where his 'investigation group' are reporting their findings.

"'But even with all that, there are 15 of us. How long can the food last?' 'Y-You can just eat sesame s-seeds or something...' 'Huh? What am I, a parakeet?'" -Hifumi Yamada & Toko Fukawa, ch 1

Later, if you choose to speak to him in the dorm hallway before going to the gym with Sayaka, he seems to be very interested in the relationship she and Makoto are developing. This noticeably makes Makoto uncomfortable, but the reason why he finds their relationship interesting is much less creepy than Makoto's unspoken assumption.

"'Mr. Naegi, Miss Maizono...! Wh-Where are the two of you off to!? A man and woman... growing closer...' 'H-Hey! What are you trying to say!?' .... 'There's really no other way to express it but to say... How very poetic!' '...'" -Hifumi Yamada & Makoto Naegi, ch 1

He sees their developing relationship as something poetic, something that has meaning to it. Speaking to him again clarifies that.

"And when he swears his love to her, there's a reason he swears that love! That's the feeling I'm getting!"

This is the first time we see Hifumi's intentions and beliefs to be more pure than his peers initially believe, and this misperception quickly becomes a theme. We see this again in the investigation, where Leon immediately assumes the worst of him for volunteering for trash duty.

"'Hey fatty! Why'd you want the cleaning gig, anyway!?' I-I just decided to volunteer for something I knew no one else would wanna do. What's the big deal!?' 'Liar! I know why you did it...'" -Leon Kuwata & Hifumi Yamada, ch 1

And, when he insists upon his innocence, it's not taken at all seriously. Instead, Byakuya suggests a new rule- for Sakura to go with any man that takes out the trash.

"'If you're as innocent as you claim, what's the harm in it?' 'Kh-! That's not how it's supposed to-!'" -Byakuya Togami & Hifumi Yamada, ch 1

This is, on a surface level, the boys calling Hifumi's bluff and proving that he 'really is' a pervert because he's upset about being accompanied. However, that's not the only reason why Hifumi could possibly be upset at this. Sakura is visibly the strongest, and therefore most threatening, member of their class. Hifumi's greatest strength is in his ability to hold a pen without cramping for a while. When trapped in a killing game, would you be hunky dory with your classmates deciding for you that you have to be alone with the most immediate threat in a killing game, all because they assume you're a pervert?

Essentially, Hifumi's role in the early chapters is wholly that of a comic relief character. He has geeky one-liners in response to serious moments, using nerd humor in an attempt to cope with the dire circumstances they've found themselves in. There are a few different examples of this.

But, simultaneously, he's one of the more empathetic characters in the early chapters. For example, in the opening of chapter 1, he's the only character to show actual concern for Mondo's safety when he threatens not to follow the regulations, in his own way.

He's also one of the ones to reassure Chihiro after the class trial when she blames herself for Leon's death, alongside Makoto and Hina.

It's also worth noting that he offers to help Hina get Toko back to her room after she faints upon seeing Chihiro's body, regardless of his own previously stated dislike of her. Regardless of his personal feelings, he offers a helping hand, even if it's ultimately ignored.

"You c-could've made some for the r-rest of us, you know...' 'I emphatically decline! You're not my type at all!'" -Toko Fukawa & Hifumi Yamada, ch 1 "'I don't mind taking her, but... could someone help me?' 'If you need help, I don't mind-' 'Taka, could you help me?'" -Aoi Asahina & Hifumi Yamada, ch 1

While on an overall, he doesn't do very much in the early game, we do get to see the two main points of his character start to come into focus: his nerdiness, and his empathy. We also get to see which half his peers pick up on, and which half they really, really don't.

Part 5- Relationships

Hifumi is a character whose story is defined by his relationships. Mainly which characters give him the time of day, which don't, and how that leads him to his eventual demise.

5.1- Leon Kuwata & Aoi Asahina

Due to both of them having a similar function for Hifumi, and having a small amount of crossover, I'm lumping Leon and Hina together. When it comes to Hifumi, both Leon and Hina are noticeably the two to visibly dislike Hifumi and assume the worst in him. This is a sort of demonstration of the group's general perception of him, as Leon is relatively active when it comes to the group conclusions in the first chapter, and Hina is consistently a voice of optimism in group discussion. For example, twice in the first chapter, Leon talks down to Hifumi, assuming the worst in him and calling him 'fatty' as an insult.

Hina, on the other hand, noticeably goes around Hifumi in conversation, brushing off his words more than once or straight up ignoring him, like when he tried to offer help to her dropping off Toko. Suffice to say, neither of them like him very much, though it's presented a bit differently. No one ever speaks in Hifumi's defense or agrees with him in group discussion, and seldom will you find Hifumi speaking one on one to anyone other than Celeste(when she's bossing him around, of course).

Leon dies relatively quick, so there's not any resolution on his end, but for Hina, she absolutely learns something from Hifumi's death, as Hifumi was someone she basically wrote off in life. So many people had already died, and when she was the one responsible for protecting Hifumi in the nurse's office, she failed him for her own sake. Her ignoring him is a point of guilt, and it leads her to be the only one to properly mourn him when everyone else is more focused on the mechanics of the murder itself. His death acts as a moment of growth for her, and hardens her to anyone who doesn't give the lonely a hand, the way she didn't to him.

5.2- Toko Fukawa

Hifumi doesn't like Toko. He sees her as a pretentious hypocrite, and says about as much when the two of them are in the library together.

"'They have all these books here, and not ONE copy of ANY of my works!' 'W-Well, yeah... Why would they have c-comics in a library? Plus, most 'fanfic' is j-just porn drawn by a bunch of a-amateurs...' 'You just don't get it. Not. At. All.'" -Hifumi Yamada & Toko Fukawa, ch 2

"'Comic b-books? Young adult? That stuff's a w-waste of time...' 'I've seen what you write, Miss Fukawa. Talented as you are, your stuff isn't any more 'worthwhile.'' 'My stories are filled with trues love and pure feelings! Don't compare them to that garbage of yours!'" -Toko Fukawa & Hifumi Yamada, ch 2

Toko is a novelist, while Hifumi specializes in fan comics. While they're both language artists, they write in very different ways, so it's expected that they wouldn't get along very well. That said, they do have a fair amount of chemistry, being equally petty and willing to criticize each others' works without hesitation. Interestingly, Toko seems to feed off of this banter, and is visibly disappointed when Hifumi later says he has no interest in her.

Despite having a verbal slapfight, their conversation in the library is unironically the closest either of these characters get to forming an actual friendship with anyone in the THH cast in-game.

5.3- Celestia Ludenberg (CW: SA Mention)

Celeste approaches Hifumi with one goal: to gain a servant. When trapped in a killing game and desperate to escape, one will use whatever resources available, and Hifumi immediately struck her as an easy target. This wasn't unfounded, as he almost immediately agreed to making her milk tea, allowing his own attraction to her to persuade him.

"'Hifumi, would you make me some tea?' '...Huh?' 'Milk tea, if you please.' 'Wh...why me?' 'Your roundish figure reminds me of the owner of the coffee shop I used to frequent.' 'That's your reason...?'" -Celestia Ludenberg, Hifumi Yamada, & Makoto Naegi, ch 2

Her approaching him is framed as both confusing and frivolous. Hifumi can't believe it, and neither can Makoto, our POV character. But regardless, Hifumi immediately falls in line, doing what Celeste asks to the best of his ability, specifically because he's attracted to her.

"Hmhm... It's all about the law of causality, basic instinct, act and react!" -Hifumi Yamada, ch 2

He does what Celeste asks because he's attracted to her, and thinks hse will, in turn, fuck him. She won't, but he doesn't need to know that. Other adaptations expand on his attraction to her, with the stageplay having him say that her Gothic lolita style akins her to horror characters in his mind, and that he wants to draw her.

Later, when Celeste plans her murder plot, Hifumi is the one she goes to, knowing he's more likely to bend to what she asks. But even though he's attracted to her, he's still at his core a decent guy. And she's not the girl at the forefront of his mind anymore, so she has to get more creative. So, in order to convince him that killing all their classmates is worth it, she comes up with a new web of lies, using both his connection with a certain AI and his own chivalry against him.

"'[Taka] came to my room last night unannounced, and then... It's hard for me to even say... He... abused me...' 'What!?' 'And he... he took pictures. He said if I did not do as he asked, he would show them to everyone... So I... I had no choice...' 'Th-that's a crime! An absolute crime!'" -Celestia Ludenberg & Hifumi Yamada, ch 3

Hifumi takes this seriously, believing what Celeste says for two reasons: because she has photographic evidence of Alter Ego in Taka's room, and because he has no reason not to trust her. She's one of the few members of the class who's spoken to him unprompted. On top of that, sexual assault is an incredibly serious accusation, and Hifumi treats it as such*.

"I'm about to say something I've never said before in my life... I'm going to kill him! I'm going to f...f...f-fucking kill him!" -Hifumi Yamada, ch 3

(*It's also worth noting that Hifumi believing Celeste doesn't make him 'stupid'. That's a sentiment I've seen very often thrown around when talking about this chapter, with the main point being 'how could he believe that the Ultimate Moral Compass would rape someone?' But not only is that sentiment at the mercy of a mistranslated SHSL title, it also implies that Celeste should've had more proof for her rape to be believable. You should always take victims seriously, and Hifumi knew that. The point of Celeste's lie isn't that Hifumi is dumb; the point is that Celeste is scum for lying about something so serious. Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk.)

Hifumi becomes a victim of Celeste's schemes because his empathy, which went unnoticed by everyone else, was weaponized against him. In this sense, both he and Taka fall to the lack of understanding their peers had for them, all to Celeste's whims, as Celeste was very involved with and friendly with the class but lied constantly. Hifumi wasn't the pervert people assumed him to be, and his chivalry became his downfall.

5.4- Chihiro Fujisaki & Alter Ego

While Hifumi's relationship with Chihiro was minor, it was still there, if only in the background. They bounce off of each other's thinking in the first trial, Hifumi comforts Chihiro after the first trial, and they stand together when summoned to the gym by Monokuma. It's subtle, but there, and Chihiro isn't uncomfortable with him, either. It's important enough of a detail that it carries over to adaptations, too.

He also refuses to touch Chihiro's dead body, not wanting to violate her after death. This is again another instance of Hifumi's base morals and empathy, but could hypothetically speak to a friendship as well. He mourns her death and thought highly of her.

It's also worth noting that both Chihiro and Hifumi are the two characters in this game to show some hints of remembering their history, or at least having the feeling that something isn't quite right.

"Hey, it could just be my imagination, but... have we met before?" -Chihiro Fujisaki, prologue

"...Huh? Ahh... that's right... I remember now... Hope's Peak... .... I remember... everything... Before... I'd met you... all... I'd met... you all..." -Hifumi Yamada, ch 3

This associates the two characters together, though not to a major degree. So when Alter Ego is found, this connection combined with Hifumi's love of 2D makes it completely unsurprising that he's immediately interested in them.

"'Somehow I feel kinda... sorry for her...' ..... 'It is a simple computer program. It does not *have* feelings.' 'Are you sure about that...?'" -Hifumi Yamada & Celestia Ludenberg, ch 3

This very quickly devolves into him being sexually attracted to Alter Ego. Of that there's no question. He routinely breaks class rules specifically to interact with them on multiple occasions.

"He snuck into the dressing room in the middle of the night and accessed Alter Ego without permission. And when I caught him last night... he was hugging the laptop and breathing strangely." -Kyoko Kirigiri, ch 3

"'And that guy was seriously head over heels for a mannequin. He had a wedding and everything! And your eyes just now... I saw the same look in HIS eyes!' 'Shut up! She's not a mannequin! She's an ANGEL! .... What we have can't be described by your petty 'words'!'" -Yasuhiro Hagakure & Hifumi Yamada, ch 3

He all but admits to it, too, enjoying when they say 'Master' and the drooling sprite appearing when talking to or about them a significant amount. But despite that, he insists it's beyond just sexual attraction, and feels genuine affection for them as a person as well. Because of that, he's the first in their class to verbalize that he sees Alter Ego not as a program, but a person, a sentiment that's later shared by the rest of the class(save Celeste).

Hifumi doesn't judge Alter Ego as a program first. He loves 2D and fiction, so he's immediately more open to accepting Alter Ego right off the bat. And it's that openness that allows him to be the first one to acknowledge that despite their existence being a "2D" one, that they're still alive and matter.

5.5- Kiyondo Ishida

Hifumi never really knew Taka. They'd met, obviously, but the two of them weren't friends, or even acquaintances. When it comes to the story of THH, their paths intersect for the first time after Taka is reborn as Kiyondo, and it's not under friendly terms. Both Hifumi and Kiyondo have developed a codependency on Alter Ego, and find themselves pitted against each other because of it.

There's also a distinct difference in the way the two of them treat and view Alter Ego that sets them apart. Whereas Hifumi sees Alter Ego as their own conscious entity, one that admittedly caters to his preferences, Kiyondo's attachment to Alter Ego is to see them as the tool that reincarnated Mondo and rejoined the two of them, and is therefore Mondo's lifeline. The reason they view Alter Ego differently is because they represent the same thing for both men- the one person who connects with them.

Taka was perpetually lonely and had no friends until Mondo, while Hifumi never wanted anything more than for his favorite characters to love him the way he loved them. Alter Ego unintentionally fills that void for both of them, so they both develop a possessive codependency to them and are forced to be at odds with each other because of it, and leads both of them to their deaths.

Part 6- Hifumi Yamada: Comic Book Hero

"If murder is evidence of abnormality, then all of history's greatest heroes must have been abnormal." -Monokuma theater, ch 3

Like the characters he admired in his favorite works of fiction, the Beginning and the End, the Alpha and the Omega, Hifumi determined the start and end of chapter 3. Chapter 3's plot and how it unfolds is a bit ridiculous, which is fitting for putting a comic relief character like Hifumi in the hotseat. It's in this chapter that we learn more about Hifumi's interests directly, and that sets the tone for the more comical and outlandish plot we get in chapter 3.

Celeste's murder plan relies heavily on Hifumi's antics, with her entrusting him to make the costume and act the fool in her play, before killing him with his own weapon of choice. In this sense, he acts as a hidden vigilante, defending her honor and saving the princess (Alter Ego) using the Robo Justice mask.

Hifumi's supposed role makes much more sense when you take it as a comic book storyline. He, the hero, is brought to the edge of death by a villain that claims itself to be justice, only to just hold on against all odds (as heroes do) and escape the clutches of evil, murdering rapists and bringing the masked villains to justice. These kinds of stories are what Hifumi eats up, but he fails to see the true role he falls into- the poor manipulated fool, henchman to the vile villainness that tosses him aside when he's no longer useful.

Part 7- Hifumi's Memory

"If I've got one thing going for me, it's my memory!" -Hifumi Yamada, ch 1

Hifumi having a good head on his shoulders is immediately plot relevant. His memory is impeccable, and this makes a lot of sense for someone revered for their place in fandom. Being able to remember the source material you're making art of can be really useful.

But in his final moments, Hifumi's strong memory comes back to him, Celeste's attack both killling him and dislodging the memories Junko had buried. This serves as both a clue to the immediate trial for his and Taka's murder, and becomes a clue towards the truth of the entire killing game.

"Who... killed me...? That's right... I remember... their name... Y...Yasu...hi...ro...." -Hifumi Yamada, ch 3

While this reveals Celeste's real name, it doesn't explain how Hifumi would've known that, and it's a question that's never directly answered until the final trial- they were friends for 2 years, and had learned her real name in that timeframe beforehand. This, alongside the first photo of the class' past and Kyoko questioning her body having changed, is where the setup for the class' missing their school lives really takes off. It's a nice detail to include for Hifumi, and has its impact on the player when you realize that Celeste, who seemed to hate Hifumi, had once willingly shared such sensitive information with him, a trust that became his final words, and it calls into question just how different everyone's relationships were with each other before the game began.

Part 8- Fatphobia In Danganronpa (& Creator's Bias)

By now, I'm certain a fair chunk of people have rolled their eyes, refreshed the page, moved on with their lives, etc. because of this post's insistence that Hifumi isn't perverted. And that's mainly because of the content of his FTEs, in which he tells us in no uncertain terms how much he wants to embarrass and mature the teen girl character he loves most. And yes, that is pretty sexual of him, and he makes a few different out-of-place sex jokes throughout his time in the game, most of which were glossed over. Well, my main reason for doing this is that I think these moments and assertions exist not in tandem with Hifumi's character and story, but in contradiction of them.

I'll elaborate. Hifumi is a fictional character. As such, when written, the character choices and dialogue are subject to authorial intent. This is base information when analyzing a character that every fictional character in all of media history is subject to. But the question with Hifumi is, how much of Hifumi's intended arc and story is negatively affected by the creator's own biases? When it comes to Hifumi, my conclusion is, a fair bit.

Hifumi's intended impact is shared with most of the cast- the subversion of expectations. Sayaka wasn't the deuteragonist. Chihiro wasn't a (cis) girl. Junko wasn't dead. Et cetera. In the case of Hifumi, this subversion is undoubtedly, and without question, that he is not a pervert. He's set up to be assumed as a pervert, only for the rug to be pulled out when Celeste reveals that he agreed to help her because he believed he was saving a sexual assault victim. He's beyond disgusted by the mere notion; he respects her, and becomes a mourned victim because of it. There's no reason for the game to call attention to this in the post-trial if this wasn't the point. So why, then, do they include all these sexual jokes, all directed at the female cast members and told exclusively by Hifumi? Why is he the one to immediately agree to spy on the girls in the bathhouse without hesitation, and mourns it if you don't unlock the cutscene? Is it all part of the 'gotcha'? Was it even necessary for the 'gotcha'? Well, no, to both questions. Hifumi has this subversion, yes, but he's also comic relief, and these moments and jokes are given to him as a result, despite the immediate and obvious contradiction.

But why? Surely these jokes could've gone to another character, or even been spread across the cast. It didn't have to be Hifumi, but the author made it so that it was, and when looking seriously at what his character was meant to accomplish, you also have to look at it critically and acknowledge why. There's one very real and apparent reason that Hifumi would be the one given these moments above everyone else, and it's the same reason the game makes multiple passes at his figure, assigns him a comic role over others in the first place, and ultimately gets lumped in with the actual perverts of Danganronpa when people criticize the fanservice and horny pervert characters of the series. He's fat, plain and simple.

Fatphobia is unfortunately evident within Hifumi's character, and most of the rest of the series as well. For one thing, in a cast of nearly 100 characters, only three are fat, and of those three, he's the only one to make it past the first chapter. Similarly to the dark-skinned characters in this series, body diversity is not a priority in Danganronpa. On top of that, all 3 of these plus-sized characters are somewhat associated with food. It's more obvious with the other two, as the Ultimate Imposter has several gags and lines about how much food he eats and how important calories are to him, and Teruteru is the Ultimate Cook, but Hifumi's official art also has him pictured with greasy snacks like potato chips while working, and in his FTEs he tells you about his Diet Coke addiction. Individually, there's nothing wrong with any of these; they make sense for the characters, but when it's all of your plus-sized characters, and you barely have any, that's a pattern.

In the case of Hifumi, though, the much more noticeable aspect of fatphobia present is his hornier brand. Other characters are noticeably uncomfortable around him at multiple instances, but by the end of the first chapter, his being a pervert is accepted fact, and people stop reacting to it.

The above sprite in particular is used very often when Hifumi is speaking, and there are several instances in which the way the player may interpret his dialogue is directly affected by the use of this particular sprite. He's visibly sweaty and drooling as he talks, and it's often paired with the Junk Food track to emphasize that what he's saying is ridiculous. An example that immediately comes to mind is if you speak to him with Sayaka before going to the gym. The Junk Food 10 track cuts in when you click on him, and immediately ends and goes back to the previous track once you're done speaking to him. The game also makes a few passes at his weight, to the point where him being too heavy to lift unironically becomes a truth bullet in the chapter 3 investigation and trial. It's technically a good point to make, since he did fly up 2 flights of stairs in the span of a few minutes, but the way in which they emphasize his weight when collecting the bullet is... rude, to say the least.

"Hifumi's big, cold body is laying on the floor... His... *really* big body. I mean, how on Earth was the killer able to move someone so big?" -Makoto Naegi, ch 3

As I stated previously, despite Hifumi having a minor arc and purpose, he is very much a comic relief character. The presentation of his character is very much a reflection of this. And there's nothing wrong with having comic relief characters. By himself, Hifumi's not being a pervert being paired with an immature sense of humor isn't the worst thing in the world, and for the most part, the contradiction here could be meta-explained as him being overexposed to Internet humor and having his foot in his mouth on occasion as a result. But that doesn't change the fact that doing it with who, at the time of his creation, is your only fat character isn't a great choice to make, and is worth calling out and criticizing for that very reason. Admittedly, this is lessened a good bit when you remember that Toko, a much thinner character, is way worse about being perverted, and plenty of way more perverted characters that are both thinner and less sympathetic as characters are introduced later. (If anything, Hifumi being negatively affected by fatphobia is worse in the fandom than it is in the actual source material, but the source did set it up for that to happen, so again, it's still worth calling out in a full character analysis.)

Part 9- Value of a Geek (Why We Care)

So now we know who Hifumi is. The perceived Hifumi, the empathetic Hifumi, and the contradictory Hifumi. So many Hifumis, and only one character. Can we condense this into a solid conclusion?

Hifumi is an otaku. Hifumi is a creator. Hifumi is horny. Hifumi beats rapists over the head with a giant fucking hammer. Hifumi Yamada is many things, a contradiction of a character. He can't keep his inside thoughts inside, but that extends to his art, too. He's a teenage boy who built a career off his pent-up frustration, and who hasn't lost sight of where the line is. He's a man of passion, in more ways than one, and he's a kinder and more chivalrous man than he's given credit for.

Hifumi Yamada may just be the character from THH you're most likely to come across in the real world. He's not some hyper-competent secret genius who made the conscious choice to dedicate his life to something. He was just a bit of a geek that really liked his favorite show, and built a community from it. He fell into his passion, and that's something I think any creator of any kind can relate to. Hifumi never cared what people thought of him, not really. He just strived to do what made him happy. Maybe we should all be more like Hifumi. Enjoy the things you love, and share that. There is a community out there that will love it; you just have to find them.

Afterword

Final analysis of the year!!! Happy birthday, Hifumi!!!! 🥳

It's technically already 2025 and January 1st. However, it's still December 31st somewhere, so I'm considering this a victory lol. Damn, 6 analyses in a little over 6 months. That's like, 1 analysis a month. Pretty crazy

I worry this may be a tad rushed, but I've looked it over and I'm confident it holds up, even if I probably could've gone into more detail in some places or another.

Anywho, expect a larger gap between this analysis and the next, because next in line is Toko Fukawa, which means we have to go beyond THH once more. Catch ya later!

(Future Crane: Edits are due to formatting cleanup and one misattributed quote at the end of part 4. None of the information otherwise has been changed)

#yamada hifumi #hifumi yamada #trigger happy havoc #thh #dr1 #thh spoilers #chihiro fujisaki #celestia ludenberg #alter ego #kiyotaka ishimaru #danganronpa #meta analysis #dr character analysis #character analysis #character study #media analysis #cw sa mention

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