#this joke is from the future you just don't understand it yet

[heejamas]

JUST LIKE HEAVEN ──★ ˙

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

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

that’s when you notice jay.

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

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

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

but people don’t stay the same forever.

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

until one day, you do notice.

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

he looks different when he laughs like that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he raises an eyebrow. "you think so?"

"i know so."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"can i open it now?" you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you duck your head, feeling your face heat up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you nod. "feels fake."

he laughs under his breath. "yeah."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"happy new year," you whisper back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

figured you could use something to take with you.

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

stay safe. stay happy. stay you.

— jay

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

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

you write to jay sometimes. he writes back sometimes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

hey! i got in.

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

write if you want.

— jay

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you glance over. “what does?”

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

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

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

“yeah,” you repeat. “i missed you.”

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

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

he nods. “yeah.”

“it’s far.”

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

“how do you feel about it?”

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

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

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

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

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

“i know.”

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

you nod. “that’s okay.”

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

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

“of course,” he echoes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what do you mean?”

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

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

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

“especially that part.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“hey,” you say quietly, walking over.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“at what?”

“saying stuff that makes things feel okay.”

you shrug. “you make it easy.”

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

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

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

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

you turn your head, surprised. “why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but none of it feels bigger than this. 

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

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

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

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

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

the morning after feels quieter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you nod. “yeah.”

he hesitates. then reaches out and pulls you in.

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

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

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

you nod, squeezing his fingers. “yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“can i play something for you?”

you nodded, not trusting your voice for a second.

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

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

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

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

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

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

he nodded once. “good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

still, he was leaving. and you were too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what’s this?” you asked.

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

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

“i wanted to.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

he smiled, soft and small, and nodded once.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i’d like that,” you said quickly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you just stood there. and missed him already.

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

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

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

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

you opened the letter slowly.

“y/n,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

i’ll miss you more than i can say.

— jay”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“hello?”

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

“hey. it’s me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i wish you were too.”

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

your stomach drops. “what do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

“sounds like a movie.”

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

“can you call again?”

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

“don’t skip lunch.”

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

“i miss you more.”

“that’s not possible.”

“prove it.”

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

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

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

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

“i’ll be waiting.”

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

“bye, jay.”

“bye, love.”

the line goes dead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you glance over. “yeah?”

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

“nerd.”

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

you smile. “i’m glad, wonnie.”

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

“you seemed so... settled.”

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

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

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

“you and jay.”

you freeze a little. “what about us?”

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

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

“but it’s real to you?”

“yeah,” you whisper. “it is.”

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

“i think he didn’t know how.”

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

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

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

you blink. “of jay?”

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

“he couldn’t come home this christmas.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“probably.”

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

the holidays pass in the quiet rhythm of home. 

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

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

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

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

you go back to campus in early january.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you turn. and it’s him. jay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“of course i remembered that.”

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

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

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

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

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

“so you just... showed up?” you ask.

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

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

“yeah.”

“with me?”

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

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

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

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

“cheesy?”

“kind of.”

he grins. “but true.”

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

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

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

“i’ve missed you so much.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that week unfolds like a secret you get to keep.

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

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

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

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

“you’re wearing it,” he says.

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

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

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

you roll your eyes. “you underestimate me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i almost did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that gets him.

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

“i love you,” he says.

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

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

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

“i love you too,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i always do,” you say.

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

“bye, jay.”

“bye, love,” he says, just as soft.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

my masterlist <3

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

[mumblesplash]

my dealer: got some straight gas 🔥😛 this strain is called "tetris spoilers" 😳 you'll be zonked out of your gourd 💯

me: yeah whatever. i don't feel shit

5 minutes later: dude i swear i just saw someone who looks exactly like me

my buddy T, pacing: the Boss is lying to us

[astro-b-o-y-d]

Nobody tell this website that egg jokes aren't annoying because the concept of someone potentially being a trans woman instead of a feminine man is somehow bad (it's not in the slightest and if that does turn out to be the case, said woman should be treated with nothing but respect in terms of her gender identity). They're annoying because you do not know that person and misgendering anyone is rude and even if you're right, that's not anyone's business but theirs and you're still misgendering them now.

[life-is-more-than-just-a-game]

Can you make a jealous chishiya? Where chishiya tells the reader to thet information about arisu but the reader and arisu gets along prety well and chishiya gets jealous? Thank you.

♠️ Chishiya being jealous about you and Arisu getting along pretty well ♠️

A/N: Hey, sorry for letting you wait so long. Maybe you have already forget that you wrote me this request but I like the idea behind it, so I decided to make this my "comeback". 👀

I'm actually not sure if I understood it the correct way, but I definitely understood you want a Chishiya who is jealous about the fact Arisu and you are get along splendidly. 😋

Hopefully it reaches you and I also hope you will enjoy reading this. ♥️

Characters: Chishiya

POV: gn!reader

Warnings: Not given.

C h i s h i y a

I don't see him being a jealous person actually.

Unless you give him a reason to ...

Chishiya isn't even a person who falls in love easily.

But when he is falling for someone, he falls pretty hard.

So, you have to deal with his feelings and his behavior when he sees you together with Arisu, chatting and laughing together as if there would be no tomorrow.

Okay, to be fair, nobody knows if there would be a "Tomorrow" ... but that's something different!

Arisu may be a great help to him when it comes to collecting all the cards, but sometimes Chishiya thinks Arisu is his downfall.

Especially when it comes to you.

Yeah, but don't think he will talk about it- he is more concerned with hiding his feelings from you than actually speaking about them.

Even if you already have realized something isn't okay with him, he wouldn't admit it.

"I'm used to it that you are not talking much when there is nothing important to discuss about." "I can hear your "but" even though you didn't said it yet." "Then guess what I wanted to say next." "I don't have any problems, I feel fine, no worries."

Nobody said it would be easy with him. He can be as cold as he looks and it's hard seeing through him, even for you.

Still, he can be a calm and cool person as much as he wants- but he's just a human being. You can endure a lot, but at some point everyone reaches their limits.

You and Arisu are talking a lot? Fine.

Arisu makes a joke you find funny, so he watches both of you laughing and having fun with each other? Alright, you aren't his trophy, everyone can have other friends next to his own partner.

But seeing both of you hugging after a game ...

Because you saw someone die in front of your eyes and you are now overwhelmed by many different emotions ...

Well, enough is enough.

"Step aside, Arisu, that's not your part, alright?"

He was waiting for you the entire time you were in the building, so it's not hard for him to find you both outside being ... needy.

"In the future, you'd better keep your hands to yourself." "Excuse me what was that?" "You already understand."

While Chishiya switches positions with Arisu and holds you captive in his arms, he just gives the dark-haired man a warning look.

… Even if unintentionally.

… And unconsciously.

"Well ... I better go then and ... leave both of you alone ... for now." Arisu lets off of you, leaving you to the person who means the most to you. "You better do."

Trying to catch your breath and calm down, you look up to Chishiya and Arisu alternately, feeling the tension between them.

Still, you can't help but start giggling a little.

Arisu und Chishiya both start looking at you now, irritated and confused.

"W-Well, wait ... just to make it clear- is there someone ... really ... jealousy?" "Yes, he is." "No, I'm not", he says calmly. "Okay, then ... let me hug Arisu again ... s-shouldn't be a problem when everything is okay. Right?"

Silence.

You smiling up to Chishiya, who is now biting his tongue and pressing his lips together, not even thinking about letting off of you.

Arisu watching in amusement.

"I'm ... just not fine seeing another one be there for you while I can be there for you. It's my job to cheer you up- even though I'm not the best in it, but I'm trying very hard." "You ARE jealousy, Chi!" "Oi, stop saying this, will you ... ?"

[janecafe]

future spouse's pac: reasons why they choose to love you every time

uno - dos - tres

paid readings available here

masterlist

©janecafe 2025

˚⊱🍀⊰˚

₊˚ʚ 𝐔𝐍𝐎 🪅 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

i just wanna be more authentic here. your person is a class that doesn't believe in love, they think it's just human fabricated and imagination well perhaps this may be because they have not yet experienced the feeling of "love". their beliefs and practices affecting their perspectives of what love really looks like. i think they're insecure about themselves and may have a gloomy heart about the topic of affection. so the time they infatuated with you, they will experience many first times. the reason why this person love you so much is that you were the first person to show care for them, it's like a natural characteristics of you.

i think you will work with them, in a project. it will take months for this person to grow feelings and as the time you're gonna know about their feelings, it's also gonna take more time for you to mirror these emotions with them. this seems like a slow burn yet a very assured love. when i say it was their first time to be in love, i speak about--a real love, the feeling is different and because they love you because of you.

the second thing is that you're not afraid to show yourself well despite the hesitation and nervousness you feel inside most of the time. you have this mindset where; "who's gonna do this? i have no one to rely on but myself needs me more". because of this positive aspect it's energizing you to do the task completely. i heard you might be insecure and have a public speaking anxiety but this bright side of your profile always gets you to wake up in reality. although your voice comes out in a full you can feel and hear your heart banging loudly inside when interacting with strangers. i feel that you have a high frequency, you may frequently noticed people at the public, staring at you without any reason. sometimes you felt awkward and embarrassed.

another thing to add to the list is that, despite that you are someone who is quiet and gentle. you have a great humor, i think people who are close to you like your jokes but most of the time these gags are overlay from you telling the truth. its like you are saying what's real behind those. well, this person will love your humour too. you are making them laugh even with their bad days, it makes their cheeks hurt. most of time, people don't understand the two of you because you two are the ones who master of each other's understanding. they love how you try your best understand them in every way possible without judgement this is how they fall deeper to you to the point they are willing to protect you to those people who would try to harm you physically or emotionally.

★ check the previous pac

₊˚ʚ 𝐃𝐎𝐒 🪅 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

ohh, la la la. they be willing to be stripped and get cold for you. love makes them crazy, i think they have a circle where most of their friends are in love in such a way they tell themselves that, "love makes you an idiot and crazy bet i'll never be like that" not until you come and knock the hell out of them. their perception on love turned around like 360°, is indeed make them insane. they feel you are so rare that's why they have a strong feelings for you. even in afterlife, they be willing to chase and make love with you haha. this reading becoming out of the topic, well the thing that makes them choose to love you is that, you give them an unquestionable loyalty.

you show them the best version of themselves which they didn't know before because all this time they think they already reach that--- that they reach the top of themselves. your presence makes a huge difference to them. it's not a big deal, it's neither your fault for them to change but it was their decision. they embrace and love it. another thing is that you are a home and a light, it's like a feeling of waking up that sunlight hitting your face. they love it when you give the best comfort especially when they really need one.

i think they will pursue you in such a very long way and with the time you are gonna them love too. they'll be like; "finally, my happiness choose me". from their expectations and imagination they already love the life that you two were building.

you are their muse of art. the root of their inspiration. the star in the darkest days. they can metaphor you with everything, make you poems with so fondness of words. they're lucky that they are able to love and see you in this lifetime. and the day they will meet you, is the day they will share their wind-gentle love story.

★ check the previous pac

₊˚ʚ 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒 🪅 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

the first thing i heard is that--- you make them marveled in love. they love how you send cute messages whenever they're at work. they think you are the most unexpected thing that happens in their life, they didn't expect you to come and boom their world. you shake things up i swear. they feel that they're bad person and nobody will ever love, they feel that they don't deserve you and their love. but you make them realize that love can make change. love makes you better. they love how patience you are with them and they are so forever grateful for that.

i think you give your best to match their energy and they really do appreciate your efforts. this slaps them that you are the one that they are willing to spend with for the rest of their lives. they want to love you much better than you do to them.

they also love your kisses and hugs. it makes their knees weak. and trust me, they'll try their best to match and give you the best communication. your encouragement and care was the ones they choose to love you every day.

another thing, they appreciate and have a soft spot for you when they take care of them when they are sick. when you make them food even though they don't usually ask for it. although most of the time you make something stupid they realize that you are the person they want for the rest of their life. i considered that their love for you was better and stronger than others.

★ check the previous pac

˚⊱🍀⊰˚

[tpwk-formula1]

Heyy<3 I'd like a Pizza with Sicilian Crust,RedSauce ,Salami, Basil, Spinach, Broccoli, Roasted Artichokes ,Prosciutto and with that a Dr Pepper,Diet Coke and a littel Dessert

scenario: Lando and reader are dating and just having fun. But Lando wants to try something new and asks reader if he can film them. <3

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

sicilian dating red sauce rough sex salami "Such a little cum slut" basil "I love to watch my cum leak from your pretty pussy" spinach "Awe I love to know I stretched you out just enough to take all my cock" broccoli "Made just for me huh?" roasted artichokes “im gonna put a baby in you” prosciutto "I love making this pretty pussy squirt" dr pepper dirty talk diet coke recording dessert yes served by Lando Norris

AN - OKAY! So I went a bit insane with this one and totally did something completely different and I really hope you like it! Any of the words in italics are a part of the scene and if it is regular that means it is either plot or current time!

Lando x gf! reader

TW - rough sex, sweet sex, oral (m & f receiving), squirting, multiple orgasms, face fucking, breath play, creampie, THERES A LOT GOING ON, MDNI 18+

WC 3300+

Y/N POV

"So I was thinking about something I think would be fun to try," Lando tells me softly making me perk my head up.

"You do that?" I question softly making Lando stare at me a bit confused.

"Do what?" He questions back after a few seconds of not understanding.

"Think. You think?" I joke making Lando instantly scoff and roll his eyes at my antics.

"You muppet," Lando groans before busting out into a little fit of giggles with me.

"Anyways, I was thinking maybe one of these times in the future I could maybe film us? I totally understand if you aren't comfortable I just would love to have a film of us together," Lando tells me softly making my face grow slightly hot at the thought of being filmed.

"Well like, would someone else have to film us? Will anyone see it? I just have a few questions," I tell Lando softly not shooting down his idea but not agreeing without clarification.

"No one would need to film us, we can hold the camera or get a tripod and I would never let anyone see it," Lando tells me softly making me nod my head letting him know I understand.

"Can I have some time to think about it?" I ask not fully sure I am comfortable with the idea just yet.

"Of course love! Whenever you know or think you're ready to do it we can rediscuss," Lando tells me softly while pulling me into his lap and placing a few soft kisses on my lips.

It has been a couple weeks since Lando had asked me if he could film us and with 2 back to back triple headers coming up I figured this break would be the best time to film some content so the both of us can have it while Lando is out traveling, especially since I'll only be able to go to a couple of his last races.

"Love, I have an idea," I tell Lando softly crawling into his lap and making him raise a brow for me to continue.

"Go on," Lando urges while I bite my lips letting the nerves get to me.

"You know how you wanted to film us having sex, I was thinking since we were gonna be traveling a bunch this next month while you're on break we could film little scenes and snippets in different places and then I can edit it all together so instead of it just being one time we have sex it's like I don't know how many, we have a lot of sex," I ramble making Lando smile at my last comment.

"Are you sure?" Lando asks me making me nod my head.

"Ya, I think it would be nice to have when you're away," I admit softly while my cheeks heat up realizing that I just admitted to touching myself when he was away.

"Oh my god, my once innocent girlfriend is admitting to touching herself when I'm away," Lando says with a smirk making my face heat up even further.

"Lando," I say while swatting at his chest softly.

"Do you get into our toys too?" Lando with an even more menacing look in his eyes.

"Don't act like I have noticed things go missing when you're away," I tell him softly with a raised brow. We both start laughing lightly. We had definitely sent enough pictures and videos throughout the year of us dating to know damn well we both touched ourselves when he was away but it was truly the first time we had talked about it.

"Can I make a request?" Lando asks softly.

"Ya of course, love," I reply making Lando's face heat in embarrassment just thinking about what he's about to ask.

"I kinda want a video of you touching yourself in the edit," Lando tells me softly making my face heat just thinking about touching myself in front of Lando.

"I'll film one of myself too and you don't have to do it in front of me. I actually would love for it to be a surprise," Lando continues making me relax slightly.

"Okay, I'll film is when you least expect it and it can be a surprise for you," I agree making Lando's face heat up at the thought.

"I think we have time to make our first film," Lando says with a smirk making me laugh lightly be quickly agree.

It's been almost a month since we came up with the plan and Lando leaves for Austin tomorrow which means tonight I give Lando our movie we created.

"Lan, come to the room when you have the rest of the night to yourself," I tell Lando softly peaking into the sim room where he was streaming with Max Fewtrell.

"Okay, do you need me right now? I can get off!" Lando tells me quickly making me laugh when I can hear Max telling Lando he was too damn wipped.

"No, it can wait! Enjoy your stream," I tell him softly.

"I'll be on no more than an hour," Lando tells me making me smile and retreat back into our room where I went into the bathroom and started getting ready.

I did my makeup and hair before I changed into a new lingerie set I knew Lando would love. Once I was all ready Lando was knocking on the bathroom door and asking if I was in there.

"Ya, just give me a minute," I tell him softly while taking a pic in the mirror and saving it for when Lando is away before typing my black silk robe around my body and heading out of the bathroom.

"Where are you going? I thought we were gonna be hanging out," Lando tells me softly making me laugh and shake my head.

"We are, just was bored while you were streaming," I lie softly knowing damn well I just wanted to look good for this moment.

"So I finished editing the video and its kinda long but I wanted to watch it with you," I tell him softly watching his face light up.

"I really hope you like it," I tell him softly making him pull me into his lap so I was stratting him.

"I'm gonna love it! You're the star of the film, nothing better than that," Lando tells me with a smile before pulling me in for a kiss and then letting me turn around so I was sat between his legs letting my back rest against my chest while I load up the 45-minute video of some of our sex adventures the last few weeks.

Scene 1 - Taken right after they agreed to make the video

"Oh fuck Lan," I moan looking right into the camera that Lando was holding and angling it to make sure to get all of my upper body in the shot.

"Fuck, it's like you were made just for me huh? always taking ym cock so well," Lando grunts in reply making me moan out louder.

"Lan I might cum again," I moan out making Lando's thrusting speed up while he brings one of his hands down to my clit where he teases it while I fall over the edge all around his cock.

That's where the video ended and a new scene was in front of us.

Scene 2 - Taken later that night right before we left for dinner. Quicky in the bathroom mirror

"Fucking hell, so goddamn tight," Lando grunts making me throw my head back with my eyes closed.

"No, fucking watch us," Lando says aggressively while he takes ahold of my hair and makes me watch Lando fuck into me from behind.

I was doing my best to hold the camera steady but I was failing miserably so Lando takes it from my hand and continues to fuck into my pussy from behind making sure to focus the camera on my face and the way my tits are bouncing around with each thrust.

"Fuck Lan," I moan loudly when I start cumming all over Lando's cock. He quickly pulls out of my soaked pussy and angles the camera to show him painting my ass with his cum.

We hadn't planned to fuck before dinner but with the idea of making a movie for each other, we were like little teenagers again fucking any chance we could.

Scene 3 - On a yacht off the Meddeteraian coast.

"Lando!" I scream feeling myself fall over the edge again squirting my pleasure all over Lando and the expensive couch we currently were on.

Lando had propped the camera up on the couch making sure to get his and my lower half in the frame of the camera.

"I love making this pretty pussy squirt," Lando groans after watching me squirt for the third time in a row.

"I want you to cum for me again," Lando groans against my lips.

"It's too much," I whine but Lando only speeds his actions up taking me over the edge rather quickly.

"Fuck squirting so much you could fill the sea," Lando teases.

That last comment had both Lando and I laughing lightly.

"Can't believe you kept that in. So embarrassing," Lando whispers into my ear while squeezing my waist a bit tighter.

"I thought it was a good comedic relief. I edited out most of the silly comments you say," I tell him making him groan realizing his post-nut clarity most of the time turns him into a comedian.

Scene 4 - In Y/N's childhood bedroom after visiting family.

"Fuck watching you with your niece is gonna make you a mother," Lando groans while pumping into my tight pussy.

"Fuck Lan," I moan once the words sink in.

"You want that? You want me to give you my babies," Lando grunts through staggered moans letting the pleasure get to him.

"Yes please," I gasp out trying to keep my volume down not wanting my parents to hear us.

"Fuck, I'm close. Please cum with me," Lando grunts out while bringing 2 fingers down to my clit and giving it a rub in small circles bringing the both of us over the edge. As we are cumming Lando grabs the camera from the little stand it was on and brings it to show my face as I'm cumming.

“I'm gonna put a baby in you,” Lando grunts as he continues to fuck my pussy through both of our orgasms.

"Fuck, you look so pretty like that," Lando grunts sending one last thrust deep into my pussy before slowly slipping out and putting the camera close to my core so the camera can pick up his cum slowly leaking from my pussy.

"I love to watch my cum leak from your pretty pussy," Lando grunts before the video is cut off.

"That was some of the best sex we've had," Lando groans out making me smile.

"Ya it was," I reply softly leaning back farther making Lando grunt out. I wiggle aroung for a second and that's when I feel it. Lando was hard. I just smirk wiggling around another second before Lando is gripping my hips to stop my movement.

"Don't act up," Lando roughly whispers into my ear.

Scene 5 - Lando's apartment after playing paddle with Max Verstappen

"Why the fuck would you do that," Lando says towering over me kneeling on the floor in front of him.

"Lando, I didn't do anything! I was just talking to Max," I reply looking straight up at him.

Lando set up the tripod at the end of the bed and it was currently angled down so it could catch me on my knees on the floor.

"You didn't do anything? Cause from what I seen was you getting all up and close with Max when I went to the bathroom," Lando's voice booms out into the room making me whimper at his anger.

"Lando he was showing me something on his phone," I argue back only making Lando roughly slap my tit.

"No more talking," Lando says before roughly shoving his cock into my mouth making me gag instantly around his cock.

I could feel Lando's hip starting to shift a little trying to grind into my back.

"Of all things you using me is what's getting you to dry hump me like a hormonal teenager," I say shifting my head slightly looking at Lando as his face flushes red and instantly stop his actions.

"Oh you can continue. Be a good boy and keep grinding," I say confidently making Lando groan and start bucking again.

"You'll pay for your little comment later," Lando grunts into my ear and I giggle lightly.

Scene 5 Cont.

"Awe I love to know I stretched you out just enough to take all my cock," Lando grunts as he continues to fuck my face making tears run down my cheeks.

Lando roughly shoves his cock deep into my throat and holds his hips completely cutting off all of my airflow. I count the seconds in my head and once I reach 12 seconds Lando yanks his cock out making me gag and start coughing.

"Fuck," I cough out trying to get as much air as possible.

"We're going again," Lando grunts tangling his hand in my hair again before shoving his cock back in.

Lando roughly fucks my throat making me continnously gag and cry around his cock. My face has become a complete mess ruining any speck of makeup I had on.

I was a true and proper whore for Lando in this moment and I loved every second of it.

"Fuck, I'm cumming," Lando grunts before he shoves his cock all the way into my throat and unleashes a massive load down my throat. I swallow as best I can with Lando so deep. Once he pulls out of my mouth I make sure to collect as much cum off his cock before opening my mouth and showing him the cum pooling in my mouth.

I watch as Lando gathers a large wad of spit in his mouth before leaning down and slowly spitting it into my mouth mixing his spit with his cum.

"Hm, you're such a little cum slut. Swallow," Lando finally says making me close my mouth and swallow his cum and spit mixure.

"I think that's the sluttiest thing I've ever done," I admit softly when the scene in front of us ends. Lando had stopped his grinding as soon as he saw himself shove his cock all the way in my mouth cutting my airflow off. I think when you're in the moment everything seems so normal but then watching it back you realize how rough it really is.

"Do I do that often," Lando asks softly making me shift my body to face him realizing he needed a serious moment.

"Cut my air flow off? Not often but love, it is not something you have to change. If it was I would have asked you to stop. We have safe words and safe actions to get us out of every scene we ever do, I haven't used it for a reason," I tell Lando softly while stroking his cheek. I can tell he's not convinced but he's become more relaxed.

"I didn't realize that was what you looked like when you were struggling for air," Lando admits making me smile softly.

"Pretty slutty huh?" I joke I try lightening the mood while also pulling him in for a kiss trying to show him that I was really okay with it.

"Promise, you don't mind it?" Lando asks softly.

"Promise!" I reply back with a smile turning back around to face the laptop once again.

Scene 6 - Home alone while visiting Lando's parents

"Lan! They might come home," I whisper against Lando's lips as he pulls my body even closer to his.

We were in the pool enjoying the sun when Lando set up the camera right on the poolside clearly showing his intentions.

"They won't I promise," Lando replies while lifting my body out of the water and onto the edge of the pool. Lando changes the camera angle to make sure to get his next actions in the frame.

"We'll be quick if you're worried," Lando replied while pulling off the bottoms to my bikini leaving my lower half completely bare. Lando instantly brings his mouth down to my clit giving it a strong suck and making me whine.

"Fuck," I moan softly when I feel Lando shift his hands to the front of my robe teasing me over my lingerie. Lando's mind finally registers that he's feeling lingerie instead of my regular thong so he's pulling the front of my robe open to see his gift under.

"I'm surprised it took you this long," I reply with a smirk when he's opened the robe to see a specially made lingerie set to have similar accents to his Hungarian GP helmet.

It was a pretty light blue set with little hand-sewn embellishments to look like the hand-painted flowers that littered the helmet.

"Fuck baby, how did you even get this?" Lando asks softly when he realizes it is more than a light blue set.

"Made just for you," I reply with a smirk making him groan and throw his head back.

"You're the best. One of the most thoughtful things ever," Lando replies back softly as he brings his hand back down to my pussy and starts teasing me over my panties.

"Already soaked for me," I feel Lando smirk against my ear.

Cont scene 6

"Lan, feel so good," I gasp when I feel Lando softly push 2 fingers into my busy making me gasp at the feeling.

"I want you to cum," Lando grunts into my pussy sending a whole new wave of pleasure coursing through my body.

"Oh god," I cry out when Lando speeds up his actions bringing me closer to my orgasm.

"Cum for me," Lando roughly tells me sending me straight into a squirting orgasm.

"Fuck," I scream out as I watch my pleasure spray all over Lando and into the pool soaking him with more than just the pool water.

"Good fucking girl," Lando says while riding my orgasm out before he's slipping his fingers out and slipping them into his mouth to clean them off.

"Fuck, I can't take it anymore," Lando says roughly while slipping his fingers out of my lingerie and turning me around so I can face Lando.

I pull him in for a kiss while I feel him pulling his boxers and sweats down to reveal his leaking cock.

I'm instantly climbing fully into his lap with my lingerie pulled to the side so I can sink down taking all of Lando's cock deep into my pussy.

"Fuck I don't think I'm gonna last long," Lando grunts when I start bouncing on his cock clearly pent up from watching some of our sex over the past month.

"Me either," I moan loudly bouncing faster while Lando brings a hand between our bodies and starts teasing my clit knowing that will throw me over the edge far faster than anything else.

"Fuck Lando," I cry out as I feel my orgasm start to build at an embarrassing rate.

"I'm gonna cum," Lando grunts bucking his hips up to meet my thrusts trying to bring the both of us over the edge quicker.

"Oh fuck," I scream out as I start cumming all over Lando's cock pulling him with me and making him bury his cock deep in my pussy and filling it up with his cum.

"Fuck," Lando grunts making me sigh in contentment.

"The rest of the video can be a surprise. I wanna spend my last night between these thighs," Lando tells me softly still fully seated on his cock.

"Deal," I reply softly pulling him in for a kiss while we relax until the next round.

True to Lando's words we did go at it almost all night not stopping until we saw the first light of the sun rising.

[gffa]

I'm still trying to navigate my way through the absolute avalanche of Arcane fic, but I am here to scream at everyone about the fics I've loved so far and try to drag a few more of you down into this hellpit of feelings with me. It's nice down here, I promise! Totally normal and with soooo many hinges, nothing off a single hinge here!

JAYVIK RECS:

✦ To love is to risk the soul's quiet by Disguised_Bird, jayce/viktor, NSFW, 32.7k     When an anomaly suddenly transports an older, scarred version of Jayce into the Jayce of Viktor's timeline, the two must navigate the strange collision of past and future while grappling with feelings neither fully understands. As they work late into the night to find a way to send Jayce back, tension turns into intimacy, pushing Viktor to confront vulnerabilities he has spent a lifetime burying.

✦ Say My Name by Acryllic, jayce/viktor, NSFW, eventually post-canon, 77.2k wip     “Tell me now if you don’t want this.” He stroked Viktor’s bottom lip with his thumb, “Keep saying my name if you do.”

✦ This ain't goodbye no more, it just began by SirCumference, jayce/viktor, NSFW, 7.1k     After he and Viktor save the world, Jayce wakes up in his old bed on the day it all started. Things are different, this time.

✦ first times, second goodbyes by tragicperformer, jayce/viktor, NSFW, post-canon, 1.6k     “What do you mean pull out?” He teases, the corners of his lips quirking up into a stupid, dopey grin. “I have separation anxiety.” “Yes, I know,” Viktor intones. “We were just discussing this. It is why I’m currently visiting you, rather than focusing on my duties back in the commune.” “Yeah. And when I pull out, you’re going to leave again,” Jayce rationalizes. Not entirely incorrect. “Just a few minutes. Please, Vik? Let me pretend for a little longer.”

✦ The Threads of Our Mind by Darling_Pigeon, jayce/viktor, post-canon, 3k     Snapshot of Jayce and Viktor’s new life of exploration after the finale: Viktor helps Jayce adjust to his brace, but they discover they may be connected in another, strangely magical way.

✦ Time For Space by yurikazen, jayce/viktor, NSFW, post-canon, 6.6k     First, there’s a wave of blinding light, tearing through the cosmos like a free-falling comet. Then, Jayce opens his eyes to find a smooth, unfamiliar ceiling above his head. (Jayce dies, holding Viktor close to him, yet death is just another beginning.)

✦ two left feet by ChiliCheeseCornDog, jayce/viktor, 4k     Jayce rises from his seat, face set with a soft smile, and holds out his right hand with the palm facing up. “Let me teach you how.” The pause is long and unrelenting. “You are joking,” Viktor manages to say. or: Jayce teaches Viktor how to dance, Piltover-style.

✦ destabilise by antiparticular, jayce/viktor, 3.6k     Jayce was naked and in Viktor's bed. Don't get him wrong - Viktor had dreamed of this happening, both literally and on slow days in the lab when he was feeling particularly self-indulgent, but for it to manifest outside of his overactive imagination? He was half tempted to pinch himself to check he'd actually awoken. Why was Jayce Talis in Viktor's bed? And more pressingly, why did Viktor not remember?

✦ Run It Back Again by Withercrown, jayce/viktor & vander/silco & cast, 18.9k wip     Sometimes there's nothing you can do except scrap the whole experiment and start over. The worst possible outcome becomes an opportunity for a new beginning. Viktor and Jayce, estranged enemies in a brutal war, go back to the start - and then earlier than that. The key to their salvation ends up being an undercity brat named Silco. He's not quite the person they remember.

✦ Electric Desires by abisbookcase, jayce/viktor, NSFW, 1.2k     Viktor gets an important phone call in the middle of sex, and Jayce keeps fucking him roughly, trying to make him slip up while he talks.

✦ Between gears and parties by chaosheadspace, jayce/viktor, 3.6k     "Why do you think it is so hard for people like me to get a footing here?" Viktor asks. "Aside from the obvious classism, of course. I'll tell you. Bureaucracy. Do you know how difficult it is to even find a place to live without a last name up here?” Or: Jayce wants to save his partner some trouble and gets them married on paper.

ZAUNDADS RECS:

✦ Take Me Like You Mean It by Anonymous, vander/silco, NSFW, 2k     Young! Silco and Vander have sex in the alleyway behind the last drop after closing.

✦ Mr Eye of Zaun by limeta, vander/silco & jinx & vi & cast, 28.8k wip     Mylo and Claggor would say there’s nothing that scares Vi. She can dish out punches and evade danger better than anyone. She’s their fearless leader, always ready to take them on a job and back without losing anyone. It’s that level of assurance that they have in her, that confidence she exudes, that makes them trust and believe in her. But they’re wrong. Powder knows there’s something that scares Vi. And that’s because it scares Vander. Or: Silco reads the letter Vander left in the mines and sticks around as a boogeyman in the Last Drop.

✦ let fall the world by perfidiousalbion, vander/silco, nsfw, 4.2k     Or: before it all went wrong, Silco and Vander had something good.

✦ The Lives of Others by Lilbaebloo, vander/silco & ekko & benzo, NSFW, 5.1k     Ekko drops an emotional grenade on Silco and Vander when he brings up their fated night at the river thirteen years earlier. The plunge into the past reminds them both of how far they've come, together and apart, and what they have to keep living for.

✦ The Shore From Which I Fell by ClutchHedonist, vander/silco, NSFW, 1.2k     “I knew you still had it in you.” Silco’s mouth tastes of ash. His tongue, tacky and dry with the suffocating weight of it, threatens to stick to the roof of his mouth as his lips fall shut. He does his best to swallow past the whisper of bruising already blossoming in his throat where Vander’s broad hand has yet again left its mark.

✦ Night Business by spicedrobot, vander/silco, NSFW, rough sex, 2.6k     The rulers of Zaun play a game.

✦ While the world turns around by Blue_Daddys_Girl, vander/silco & jinx & benzo, 8.9k     In a chance meeting Vander sees Silco for the first time since the fateful day he's come to regret so deeply. Silco has changed—they both have. Vander can't stop thinking about him.

TIMEBOMB RECS:

✦ Little Crow by shroomyystar, ekko/jinx, 2.1k     There’s a monster under his bed.

✦ Let's Give It One Last Try by the_whole_shebang, ekko/jinx, post-canon, 12.3k     The war is finally over, and Ekko is finally home, but an old friend has one more favor to ask of him. Jinx found the strength to walk away, but something told her not to let go just yet. Maybe if Vi and Ekko hadn't given up on her yet, then she wouldn't either. Plus, thanks to Ekko, she was starting to think that the past wasn't as set in stone as she though it was.

✦ Let Me Try by Blue_Daddys_Girl, ekko/jinx, post-canon, 4.3k     Ekko walks away from the final battle in a daze after learning that Jinx is dead. Or: An alternate ending to the show, in which she isn't, no matter what Vi believes.

SOMETIMES THE SHIPS AREN'T THE POINT RECS:

✦ wait 'til your sister sees where you've been by QwahaXahn, vi & jinx & cast, post-canon, 12.9k     OR: Jinx falls. The bomb explodes. Everything goes white. ...And Vi wakes up in a different world.

✦ was it the worst you'd never know by Anonymous, jinx & silco, 2.2k     “Fix him,” she demands, voice barely decipherable through the breaking and raspiness from crying. Gentle, gentle, as gentle as Singed knows how to be, which is not very. Jinx will have no qualms killing him if he steps wrong. “He is… very far gone.” And indeed he is. His chest does not rise, and his eyes are vacant. He is gone. “FIX. HIM.” aka jinx refuses to let her father die and brings him to singed. it goes better than expected

✦ Six Weeks Since by argonautoida, jinx & viktor, 2.1k     Six weeks after Silco died, Jinx finally makes a friend.

[sunandflame]

Would.. would you do a follow up to the breeding kink with Law? Where reader is pregnant and how he reacts? If you don't feel comfortable I completely understand! I appreciate you taking the time to write these!

Confirmation

He’d studied every system of the human body. But this was something else entirely.

Warnings: pregnancy

Word Count: 921

Pairing: Trafalgar D. Law x Pregnant!Reader

a/n: could be seen as the continuation of "the wanting"

crossposted on AO3

It started small.

Barely-there signs, the kind most people would chalk up to stress or bad sleep. But Law wasn’t most people—and you were never just a patient. You were his partner. His anchor. The one person who made the thought of the future less terrifying.

So when you skipped breakfast three days in a row, he noticed.

Not just noticed. Logged it.

And when you waved it off with a shrug—“Not hungry today”—he didn’t push. Not yet. But the quiet rhythm of your body was something he’d memorized over time. The way you always stirred in bed at a certain hour. The pattern of your appetite, your mood, your cycle.

So when your appetite didn’t return, his gut clenched.

Something was changing.

By the end of the week, he’d catalogued:

Increased fatigue

Mild nausea in the mornings

Slight changes in skin temperature

Uncharacteristic sensitivity to smells (you nearly gagged when Shachi walked past after cutting garlic)

And, most tellingly: you were officially late.

Four days late, to be precise.

He knew your cycle. You’d once joked that he could probably track it better than you—and it was true. He never wrote it down. He didn’t need to. He was a doctor. But this was you. His you.

He didn’t want to ask. Not yet. Not until he was sure. Not until he could brace himself against the possibility that he’d imagined it all.

Because hope was a dangerous thing.

The fifth morning, he woke up before you.

You were still curled under the blankets, snoring softly, breath warm where it hit his chest. His hand drifted without thought to your stomach—flat, soft, peaceful. His thumb brushed lightly over your navel.

And he whispered, “Are you in there?”

He hated how much his throat tightened. Law had seen life begin and end. But this was different. This life… would be a miracle. And for the first time in years, he realized he didn’t feel afraid.

He felt ready.

You threw up that morning.

It wasn’t dramatic. You slipped out of bed before he did, shuffled to the bathroom—and he heard it. The quiet retch, then the low groan as you leaned over the sink. He was behind you in an instant, hand on your back.

“Again?” he asked softly.

You wiped your mouth. “Ugh. Yeah. Might be a bug.”

His eyes flicked over your face. Your skin looked flushed. Not feverish. Just different. Almost glowing, but he didn’t dare say it.

You blinked up at him, rubbing your eyes. “You’re staring.”

He hesitated. “I think I should run a few tests.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you diagnosing me before breakfast?”

“Just ruling things out.”

But he already knew.

You sat on the infirmary table, legs swinging, frowning. “This better not be the flu.”

He gave a short hum and turned away to prep a small blood test. But his hands were shaking slightly, even as he slipped on gloves. Not from nerves. From the weight of it.

“You’re acting weird,” you said.

“You’ve been acting weird,” he replied without turning.

“Not weird. Just tired. It’s probably just stress.”

He turned back to you then, expression unreadable. “Or you’re pregnant.”

The words hit the air like a dropped scalpel. Your whole face stilled. Eyes wide.

“Wait… what?”

He stepped forward, voice low. “You’re five days late. You’ve been nauseous every morning. Your skin’s flushed, your body temperature’s up by half a degree, your mood’s shifted, and your scent—” He stopped himself, exhaled slowly. “I smell it. It’s faint. But it’s there.”

You blinked. “You think I’m pregnant because I smell different?”

“Because everything adds up.” He held up the blood kit gently. “Let me confirm it.”

Your hands rested on your belly suddenly, protectively.

A beat passed. Then you nodded.

The test took twenty minutes.

He told you to rest. You didn’t. You paced instead. And he watched you, heart pounding behind his calm face. Not because he was nervous about the science. Because he knew what this meant. It wasn’t just a child. It was proof that he could have a future. That you could survive this dangerous, wild world together—and build something new.

When the test was done, he stared at the result for a long time. Then walked back to you in silence. You were chewing your lip. Eyes wide. Expectant. His voice cracked a little.

“You’re pregnant.”

You stared at him. Then slowly—so slowly—you started to cry.

Law caught you before your knees gave out. He wrapped you tight in his arms and sank to the floor of the infirmary with you in his lap, hands shaking against your spine.

You pressed your forehead to his collarbone.

“It’s real?”

He nodded. Against your skin, his voice was hoarse.

“It’s real.”

That night, neither of you slept much. He held you against him, fingers spread wide over your still-flat stomach. You’d asked a hundred questions already. So had he. He'd already begun thinking about supplements. Positioning in bed. How early he'd be able to hear the heartbeat. But in the quiet between all the talk, there was one thing you said that made his throat tighten again.

“I’m not scared anymore.” He kissed your shoulder.

“Neither am I.”

Then, barely audible: “I’m happy.”

He hadn't used that word in years. Maybe ever. But it was the truth.

Because you were still here. And now, so was something else.

Someone.

And for the first time in a long, long while—Trafalgar Law believed that life could begin again.

[seaborgium-dazies]

the cut that always bleeds

how mha characters' unrequited feelings would manifest and how they would cope with them

gn!reader, angst, unrequited feelings because they convinced themselves you don't like them

🌊: deku, bakugo, shoto, iida, denki

pt.2

deku:

His pain manifests as a pit in his chest that routinely gets bigger and heavier. He cannot look at you without feeling this pain dragging him down. And yet he wouldn't even try to deal with it. He already convinced himself that you would never, in a million years, like him back so he tries to ignore his bleeding heart. Using forced smiles and fake positivity as a crutch; anything to keep his guard up. Still he cries at night :(. He listens to sad love songs for hours and gets up the next morning with the same fake smile as the day before :(.

bakugo:

His unrequited feelings for you ignite a neverending fire in his chest. Whenever, wherever, he feels this intense anger in his chest. His method of dealing is distance. As soon as he sees you he's super pissed and even though he takes every chance to openly and safely fight you (sparring, tournaments etc) it's never enough to completely alleviate his burning pain. When you actually start fighting or even when you have small disagreements in class his anger bubbles over and due to his sharp tongue he ends up saying harsh things that he regrets. So he figured that avoiding you as best as he could was the way to go.

Shoto:

He's pretty unaware of his feelings and his pain manifests on the low. He's not really outspoken about his feelings so no one helps him connect the dots on why he's feeling so down. His unrequited feelings just drape his day to day life in a soft blue hue. Everything seems a little more hopeless and useless than before. He notices one thing though. Whenever he sees you his feelings of sadness get more intense. He figures that it's because he just cannot understand you. He observes you a lot and just cannot wrap his head around how someone can be so beautiful, so cheerful and so upbeat in such a shit world.

iida:

The pain presents as a constant feeling of being on edge. And in response he tries to rationalise. He pushes his annoyance to the side and acknowledges that he just feels on edge because of the rise in anti hero sentiments lately and he's just feeling a bit under the weather and he just hasn't been sleeping well lately and his schedule is overwhelming and and and. Once the though of him liking you comes up he tries to rationalise that too. He doesn't really like you it's just the hormones. And even so you guys could never work out because his upbringing was so different from yours / your personalities are so different / you have different visions of the future / etc.

denki:

Denkis pain manifests as amplified insecurities and he tries to joke his way out of it. He cracks self deprecating jokes from dawn till dusk and from dusk till dawn. He is constantly the butt of the joke and he cannot stop himself from making 'you'd never go for such an ugly worthless guy like me. You deserve someone better' type comments. He routinely calls himself stupid, ugly, worthless and whatnot and whenever you correct him he cringes deeply because he realizes what type of position he put you in.

©️ seaborgium-dazies 2025

[arisewanekosuki]

travelers helper AU where is the reason why S/O is oblivious to all the men liking her is because every single time she showed an interested in a hot guy. They turned out to be gay, so she’s convinced herself that all of the men are gay and possibly even dating each other. (Couples she thinks are real are Alhaitham x Kaveh Cyno x Tinari Zongli x Childe Kaeya x Venti Nuvilet x woirthslie ) and I watched their reactions to finding out that she thinks they’re all gay

Ok this idea is funny xD But to anyone who like those ships, pls don't take it as some kind of hate towards those ships or something. --------- The guys are devastated after learning you think that they are into... each other. All of them wondering where did they make a mistake? Kaveh found it ridiculous, him and Alhaitham?! He wondered if you think so because they live in the same house? But there are many people who are friends and share homes… You even invite all your friends to live in your Teapot!! He really couldn't understand from where this idea came from… Is it because they bicker so much? But it didn't make sense to him!! Kaveh was anxious… do you not see him as a man or something? He is overthinking this whole thing. At this point he is debating whenever to show you his plans of the house he wants to make for you both in future.

Alhaitham was more clam about it, analyzing from where this idea may come. It's not like he and Kaveh were affectionate to each other and he couldn't recal any moment that could make you think like that about them. He will state that, no, he is not interested in Kaveh in such way (or anyone else, both guys and girls, that are not you) And yet you still say "That's okay! I won't judge! I will support whoever you love!" At this point Alhaitham may confess his feeling to you but the problem is that there is always someone by your side…if not Aether then other guys. And the worst thing is Kaveh always appears too, making the misunderstanding even worse.

Cyno at first thought this is some kind of joke. But after seeing that you're not joking he was bewildered. Why would you think so? "You two sometimes look like parents of Collei" Parents? But when they were in Mondstadt he was sure you heard how he and Tighnari bickered who would be the 'older brother'… right? Cyno was silent. Trying to come up with something that will make you believe him that he is interested in you. Because whenever he would say that, you would be "ah Cyno! Please don't joke like that!" he would never joke about things like this... The General Mahamatra for now tries to avoid talking to Tighnari when you are close…

Tighnari only furrowed his brows. Him and Cyno? Big nope!! Just imagining that he would hear more jokes from Cyno if they were together already gives him a headache. The Forest Ranger was getting more and more irritated that you for some reason don't want to accept when he says that there is nothing between him and Cyno. So he started to approach this in different way. Thankfully Cyno already was avoiding him when you are close. So he can now start to be even bolder with his affections towards you. If you still refuse to believe that he is attracted to you, then you may expect to hear a confession soon.

Zhongli asked you if you can repeat yourself. Oh? Him and Childe together? In romantic relationship? Zhongli was thinking where this came from…Is it because he often uses Childe's mora to buy things?But that was only that… and that Childe often bothers him so they could spar. Ah. Maybe this was the reason, maybe you think that 'sparings' are something different. Humans are truly interesting. He will ask you why you think so, patiently listening to your explanation. He is amused by this.

Childe laughed, but after seeing you are not laughing he stopped and said "Wait...are you serious?" He will say that there is nothing between them, even says that he prefers girls (to hint that he likes you) but you responded with "It's okay! You don't have to hide it! I accept you and I'm sure your family will accept this as well!" You're cute…. but why don't you want to believe him?! Should he shower you with more gifts? It would be better to invite you for a date but with Aether being around it's not that easy….

Kaeya was amused, but he didn't expect that you will think that Venti is his boyfriend. One part of him wanted to joke about it but other part was worried that you will take it too seriously and he will lose his chances with you. The cavalry captain doesn't worry about it too much. He will simply tell you that you're wrong and he will continue showering you with affections.

Venti was a bit hurt by this. Were his love songs and poems dedicated to you not enough? Or maybe this is your way to tell him that you're not interested in him? He can't really understand this… he never was affectionate to anyone else like he is towards you. But after learning he is not the only one that you think is into guys, he felt relieved. At least you didn't think that he and that block head are into each other.

Neuvillette was confused by this. There are already many things that he can't understand about humans. But he was sure that you will realize that he is trying to court you… not the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide… After that for some days it was raining in Fontaine. He decided to tell Furina about it, hoping for some advice in this situation. But she only started to laugh. After she calmed down she promised to help him to clear this misunderstanding.

Wriothesley already knew how oblivious you are but he never expected that you might be this oblivious. He will say that there is nothing like this between him and the Iudex and if you still insist about that then well…if there will be a chance for you two to be alone you can expect him to kabedon you, making you look into his eyes and he won't let you go till you stop thinking that he is interested in anyone that is not you.

[moonwatcher2005]

Did I save you or did you save me

Neglected batsis reader x black butler kitties

Chapter 1

The door softly closes behind Y/N, and little droplets of water drip from both her and the box. Quietly, she sets the box down, not caring that the floor has been dirtied, and takes off her jacket that had shielded the cats from the relentless rain and wind. While Y/N hangs up her soaking wet jacket and disappears into a room to get a change of clothes, a black cat bravely jumps out of the box another black cat with yellow eyes follows. Cautiously, they explore the place, sniffing at some furniture and getting a feeling of the new environment.

CATS POV:

“My lord, this place seems to be safe.” Sebastian settles down on the floor, his tail swinging leisurely across the floor

“Yes, it indeed seems to be safe, for now ” Sebastian quickly side-eyed his seemingly archnemesis before exclaiming with a quite venomous voice.

“Tch Spider. . . “ Claude returns the sentiment with a “ Crow,” both acknowledging his existence while wishing for his violent death.

“Sebastian! Get me out of here! I'm soaking wet!” a smaller cat exclaimed.

“OH, me too, Bassy!”

“Grell, shut up.”

“Claude, I'm cold and hungry!” whined another one.

Claude lets out a tired sigh before jumping in the box again to retrieve his future lunch.

“Yes, my lord,” Mused Sebastian while following his rival.

After a while of trying to grab the smaller cats in a way that truly did not befit an earl like Ciel Phantomhive or Alois Trancy, they explored the space and eventually discovered the living room in which they curiously roamed about, while still soaking wet, mind you.

“Where did the girl go?” asked Ciel

Just as Sebastian was about to answer the tiny lord, a door opened and a pair of hurried footsteps crossed the flat, and the girl once again came into view. Her hair was wet, and she wearing a new change of clothes that weren't soaked, carrying in her hands a large white towel.

“Heheheh this is going to be interesting . . .”

Y/N POV:

What am I doing? Taking a dozen street cats when I have no idea how to keep a pet. Well, whatever I already took them in, even I am not that cruel to throw them out again.

I think to myself while searching for a towel. After successfully acquiring one, I return to the living room searching for the cats who have, by now, left the box.

They're going to dirty the whole place up like this. Sigh, if I don't clean this up, Alfred will kill me.

I froze. Even now I'm still thinking about them. A chuckle left my lips.

“I was about to join the other side, and yet I still have to clean up. Life sure was a joke. I stood there for a while, pitiying myself, while I could feel the curious looks from the cats.

One last deep sigh leaves my soul, and my eyes lock, or at least I think they do, with a grey and white Norwegian forest cat that for some reason had bangs covering its eyes.

“Hm, you're all soaking wet and dirty, yet you still casually roam around in my home? How rude,” I crouch down in front of the cat and stare at it. The cat simply tilts its head and meows at me. I blink, remembering why I got the towel in the first place, and I start making use of it and wrapping the towel around the grey cat. The other cats look at me, the two black ones, one with red brown eyes and the other with yellowish eyes. There were two smaller cats, most likely still kittens one a russian blue, which had one eye closed, and the other one a blond ragdoll kitten. Amongst them, a red cat stood out, surrounding it were two more cats who shared the same eye color as the red furred cat. Green and yellow orbs stare back at me.

“Follow me, you’re all dirty,” I commanded. I turned around and walked into the bathroom.

These cats aren't quite normal. I told them to follow, and they did. Did they understand me? Maybe they're worried for their little friend, but... the cat with the red and the one with yellow eyes... they're analyzing me, studying me like a person would

I focus back on the task, hand.

Or maybe I'm just going crazy.

I shake my head and place the grey cat in the bathtub. I turn around and grab the others with the matching eye colors. As I turn to get the blue kitten, I find myself struggling quite a lot. Seems like this one didn't appreciate being grabbed by a giant stranger.

“Stop struggling already, I'm trying to help” I proclaim, annoyed.

“Meow.” suddenly the kitten stopped stuggling after the red-eyed one intervined, and I wasfinallyy able to place the kitten into the tub with the others.

“Seems like you have a better grip on this one than I do.” I picked the red-eyed one up and mustered it for a while.

I stare into the cat's eyes and can't help but feel like the cat is analyzing me once again.

“You have pretty eyes...” My thoughts are interrupted by the very same cat that occupied them with a meow. I place the cat into the tub andfinallyy put the last two cats in the tub. Meanwhile, the ragdoll seemed to be quite pleased by the physical contact the other black cat with the yellow eyes seemed to be indifferent to me.

I take the shower head and turn on the water, making sure that the water is lukewarm, not too cold, and not too hot. Making quick work of rinsing the cats from the dirt while struggling with some more than others.

After all the cats were squeaky clean, I used the hairdryer at a low setting to dry their fur. The Red cat seemed to be especially pleased by this. I tried to use this opportunity to try to check the grey cat's eye colo,r but miserably failed to do so as it seemed to evade all of my attempts. After all of them were dry, I wraped them up in blankets and carried them into the living room and let them settle on the couch.

“I hope you guys are warmer now. Either way, it must be a lot more comfortable than the box I found you guys in.” The cats seemed to be communicating with each other when I realized that they needed names.

Can't go around just calling them by their physical appearance.

“You guys need names. I'm getting sick of having to call you guys by your fur color.”

I point at the grey cat, “You'll be Ivory, the blue one will be Blueberry.” Blueberry looked like I just offended his entire bloodline.

“The red one will be cherry,” Cherry looked pleased once again.

“Red eyes will be Ambrose and yellow eyes . . . I'll just call you gold, I guess I m not that great with names . . .” Gold was judging me while Ambrose smirked at him “ right . . . the overly affectionate ragdoll can be cinnamon roll. I remember this one girl in my class who named her ragdoll cat that so guessthat's fine.” Cinnamon meowed at me and nibbled at my fingers playfully. I scratch his head while I look at the two last remaining ones and take a better look at them. One of them was a tuxedo cat which ironically fit his serious aura, and the other one was a calico cat. “ Tuxeda cat . . . you remind me of my butler Alfred, but more serious. Unfortunately, Alfred the cat already exists . . . Edmund? How about that?” he blinked at me and let out a small meow.

“And at last we have the calico,” he starts to meow loudly as if he's complaining about being the last one to be named. I groan

“Ugh, my creativity is running out, and I'm tired, “ he meows louder.

“My god, calm down How about Jasper? I don't care if you like it or not you are Jasper from now on” as he was about to complain i hold his mouth shut.

“No complaining, I'm tired. If it wasn't for you cats, I would have been in a completely different place by now, but whatever. Guess I'll go get food. “Jasper was offended by my lack of care and started meowing up a storm as I got up and walked toward the kitchen to get some food for them.

“If I give you food, will you leave me alone ?” I ask as I put the plate with my leftovers of beef steak down

Note: Ciel is Blueberry, Sebastian is Ambrose, Grell is cherry, Undertaker is ivory, William is Edmund, Knox is Jasper, and Aois is cinnamon. Claude is gold.

When should I turn them back into humans? Anything specific you guys want to see happening? Also, romantic interests for reader?

[therainscene]

Gonna be a bit of a buzzkill here, but: I think what annoys me about Ted's been casually assuming that Mike was dating Will this whole time theories is that they always tend to treat it as a fun outcome.

Like, I get it: Ted's the useless one-dimensional suburban dad who makes bland observations he thinks are insightful quips, and he hasn't had much of a character arc beyond getting dragged along for the ride his more three-dimensional wife is on -- so what is there for him to do, really, other than to delight us with one final, genuinely insightful joke that subverts our expectations but makes perfect sense in hindsight?

But I feel like this would essentially make him one of those "allies" whose egos are more important to them than actually being supportive, and so they make smug jokes about how accepting they are at the expense of their kids' fear of rejection:

"I hate my gay son! Oh, not because he's gay, he's just an asshole." 🤭 "Why are you telling me you're gay? I figured that out years ago. Stop crying and go help your mother with the dishes." 🙄 etc.

It wouldn't be out of character for Ted to do this. I can totally see him doing it! But it's out of character for the show to make light of queer struggles, so I'd expect it to be critical of Ted for doing this.

Often, parents like the ones described above really do mean well, but they just don't know what they're supposed to do other than try to keep treating their kid the same as if they were straight. Lots of parents struggle with that; I'd argue even Joyce does in S3:

Will's clearly experiencing a specifically queer difficulty here -- boys like him aren't allowed to fall in love and he's upset about having to watch straight people openly enjoy things he thinks he'll never have -- and that apparently sails over Joyce's head. She just smiles at her Silly Immature Boy Who Doesn't Get The Appeal Of Sex Yet and drops the topic.

[Edit: To be clear, Joyce knows he's gay and is explicitly showing support for gay love here. She just has a blind spot when it comes to the gay teen experience.]

It's a disappointing change in her approach from the first two seasons, in which she fought her ass off to understand and advocate for his needs, even when communication seemed nigh impossible.

But then, maybe S3 is about granting Will his S2 wish to not be coddled by his mom anymore.

The Jonwill heart-to-heart at the end of S4 is my favourite scene in the whole show, because it's a pitch-perfect demonstration of how to balance closeted queer kids' need for support against their need to handle things on their own terms, all without embarrassing them by showing your hand of Already Knowing.

Maybe you're thinking: didn't Karen do exactly this with Mike all the way back in S1?

[Literally hiding his future beard in his closet during this convo lol 10/10 queer-coding]

Well, no. The point I made in my previous Wheeler analysis still applies: Karen, as of S1, is too prone to trusting dangerous authorities over her own kids -- and so her words ring hollow. She means well, but deep down she's prioritizing her need to feel like a good mother over putting any real effort into figuring out what Mike needs: reassurance that he and his flock of outcast friends will be safe if he's open with her.

The key thing Jonathan gets right is to understand his brother well enough to directly address the underlying fear that's been preventing Will from opening up:

So if Ted's sole contribution to Mike's queer arc ends up being a reveal that he's always known and been too cool to blab to anyone, but also that he did nothing about it other than to smugly wait for Mike to come out...?

...I just think that would feel more tragic than funny.

[henley-reeves]

"The Runaway Bride" is such an iconic episode, really. It was just Donna in her wedding dress appearing in the TARDIS while the Doctor was in the middle of a heartbreak, and she immediately changed his life, and hers in the process, from the second she started yelling at him to TAKE HER TO THE CHURCH.

This woman came up with a whole variety of pet names for the Doctor in a span of a few hours, some of which (SPACEMAN) would become legendary and character defining and would be remembered fondly by the Doctor.

This episode is full of iconic scenes, like Donna getting kidnapped by a robot Santa and the Doctor trying to save her by encouraging her to jump out of a moving car on a motorway, and while Donna is refusing to jump arguing that she is in her wedding dress, the Doctor's best response is to compliment her look like "girl, you look perfect for a jump out of a moving car on a motorway."

And the next scene on a rooftop solidifies the silly tone of this relationship by the Doctor putting a biodamper ring on Donna's finger cracking a wedding joke, which Donna immediately joins in on.

This scene right there was the start of their friendship and that bond that would last for the rest of their lives. It all started with a robot Santa, a wedding ring and a silly joke which hilariously continued into the next scene with the Doctor and Donna standing under the "Just Married" banner. Comedy gold.

A very underrated moment of the Doctor continuing the affectionate insults tradition between them by calling Donna a 4H pencil, trying to explain to her how she got transported into the TARDIS.

There were these small moments throughout the episode that showed exactly how this friendship of a lifetime started. Like the Doctor taking Donna to see the creation of Earth right after the moment her fiance betrays her and admits he hates and wants to kill her. The Doctor sees all that and tries to distract her by showing her something so extraordinary and beautiful that no other human saw before her. And it works. This woman who has been so unimpressed with him calling him SPACEMAN (derogatory), was now cracking jokes and laughing with the Doctor and very much enjoying his company.

The Doctor and Donna who spent the good portion of the episode trying to get rid of each other, were now ride-or-die besties.

The Spaceman and Earthgirl are now imprinted on each other so much that this little Christmas adventure will become a life changing event and a start of a relationship so meaningful and deep that it will end up changing the Doctor's and Donna's lives fundamentally and save this world and a multitude of others.

The Doctor started the episode with "I don't want you here anyway" and ended it trying to make Donna laugh and making it snow when he heard she didn't like Christmas, and openly telling her he would be lucky to see her again and inviting Donna to come with him.

And Donna who starts the episode yelling at the Doctor and being so unimpressed with him, ends up understanding him on such a deep level and leaving him with the words that he would carry for regenerations to come. And failure to remember these words would lead to the death of this incarnation.

Donna is asking the Doctor to find someone, and she doesn't yet realise that he already found that someone he needs, a platonic soulmate, a friend, a partner, and that someone is her.

"The Runaway Bride" was a start of a many years (for Donna) and many centuries (for the Doctor) road from that rooftop to the garden where they will sit together with a bright shared future ahead. Best mates having the best of times for the rest of their lives. TOGETHER.

[tantegel]

i wish i could better articulate this point, but it's so important for me to have more people acknowledge acceptance as one of the core themes of haikyuu. it's so deeply ingrained in not just the narrative, but the world itself that once you see it you'll find it everywhere

it's in aran's mixed heritage being a facet of his character but not his one defining trait. how he's treated like every other volleyball player and allowed to joke and be silly and have his moments of seriousness too.

it's in oikawa giving up his japanese citizenship and home nation as a whole to play for argentina, and this decision being treated with nothing but respect, with his final appearance standing in front of the argentinian flag being a moment of triumph and the culmination of what he's gone through and done throughout the series.

it's in kageyama and ushijima being notably difficult to befriend, much less approach, and yet the narrative makes it clear time and time again they are worthy of companionship and understanding irregardless of how others see them, and that they don't need to fully change who they are because someone out there will love them, edges and all, and as long as they continue to be themselves someone will come out and walk beside them

it's in tendo eventually finding a family in shiratorizawa after years of isolation, all without changing who he is as a person. it's in osamu being allowed to be his own person, outside of atsumu and volleyball and succeeding and finding happiness. it's in kageyama, kindaichi, and kunimi forgiving each other for their pasts and moving forward into the future without holding onto grudges from when they were hurting and 15 years old.

the story tells us over and over again we are inherently worth something regardless of what others think and that we will find someone out there for us, as long as we keep looking.

[dazed--xx]

Too Far....

Member: Changbin x Reader

Genre: Angst

T/W: Jokes at a friends expense, insecurity, groveling

A/N: I've officially moved and have wifi I'm also in the process of getting furniture and stuff but I'm excited for what the future hold hope you guys enjoy this one wanted to make one basically full of groveling. Also don't mind these little things for a while like the word count I plan to go through and fix everything

When do jokes go too far?

Y/N wondered, as she sat in this diner across from her boyfriend of 4 years best friends who continue to make subtle jestful jabs at her expense. Could it be when the punch line is hurtful? She bit her cheek as she stared at the table as the pair continue to laugh together at an embarrassing moment Y/N when she first met the pair. While Sol-i's beauty was enough to make any woman insecure with her closeness to their boyfriend, Y/N had apologized over and over about her rude remarks when she first met her. Daehyun hadn't been there, yet he speaks about it like he was. Y/N couldn't understand the dynamic of this friend group.

While she knew her boyfriend was the glue that held this group together, she couldn't understand the appeal. They constantly belittled each other and stabbed each other in the back. Especially the pair that sat in front of her at this moment. "I'm just saying though, Y/N you were just so adorable with that little jealous pout on your face" Sol-i states condescendingly. Her hand slowly brushes her brunette locks off her shoulder as she takes a sip of the soda sat infront of her. Daehyun chuckles slightly "I bet it was, especially with her tiny self like what was she going to do?"

Y/N couldn't stand them at this point, no matter when she saw them; No matter what was going on in her life these two just never let things go. "Honestly Y/N, you're kind of lucky you're cute and smart" Sol-i says arrogantly. "Otherwise Changbin would have probably left your adorable ass in the dust by now" she continued with a proud honest smirk on her lips as Daehyun decides to input his own opinion as well, "True, with her temperament it's not like she'd be able to find someone as good as Binnie"

Y/N's eyebrows furrow "Coming from the pair that take turns fucking each other's boyfriends?" Her voice laced with venom "I'm sorry, Sol-i when did you study relationship counseling? Also what about your pathetic crappy relationships that always ends with the guy cheating on you? Do you really believe you have the qualifications to make assessments about me and my relationship?" She growls before turning to Daehyun "And you...a queen who's in fucking denial about the fact that they live vicariously through their best friend and can't stop seducing her boyfriends because that's how badly you wish you were Sol-i? You have no right to make a judgement about me when you both have never once even taken the time to actually get to know me." Y/N's voice was laced with venom as she felt her body growing hot.

The pair sat quiet, bewildered, as Y/N began to grab her things. "What the fuck did you just say to them?" Y/N hears from behind her. Rolling her eyes, as she turns to look at her boyfriend. He stood their with a fire in his eyes as he clenched his fists at his side. His eyebrows furrowed as he glared at her. Scoffing she crossed her arms over her chest and shrugs "You heard me..." Changbin looks even more angry at her nonchalance.

"Did you think this shit was okay?" He questioned trying to maintain his calm.

Y/N scoffs "Of course you're going to defend them"

"Yeah! I'm going to defend them, not everyone is some selfish bitch that can just shit on people the way you do, Y/N. Not everyone would be cool with you talking to their friends like their beneath you"

She stares at him stunned as she jumps up from her seat "I've been telling you for years the horrible shit they've said to and about me!" She exclaims in frustration before stopping herself, feeling no point in explaining herself as Sol-i tries to interject in their conversation. Her voice hesitant and small "B-Bin, w-we may have crossed a li--I don't care shut up and stay out of this" Changbin cuts her off before turning back to his girlfriend who was in the process of grabbing her things. "Yup. Leave....run away like you always fucking do when shit gets hard for you, Y/N."

"I'm not fucking dealing with this shit right now changbin. You want to be an asshole then fine but I'm done" She growls at him as she shoves her purse onto her shoulder and pushes past Changbin and out of the diner door. Changbin stood there confused but resigning to letting his girlfriend calm down a bit then talking to her. Sol-i stared at her friend feeling guilty as she looked at Daehyun who sat there bewildered by the whole situation and how a small simple joke went too far.

Changbin went too far this time...

He felt it in his stomach, he had been torturing himself for the past 6 weeks. That night after the huge argument with Y/N, he had to hop on a plane and go on a 6 week tour. During that time he hadn't heard a peep from his girlfriend. At first he was angry, how could she not even come to say goodbye the next morning? But as the time passed and her responses continue to not come in, he felt worried. Worried about her never responding again. Worried he had ruined things forever with his hot headedness. Worried she was serious about being done...

He couldn't go on not knowing. If things were over he needed to hear it from her. Just the thought alone sent a sharp pain through his chest. He felt so guilty, he'd understand if she did choose to end things but he prayed every night she didn't. He didn't want to--No, he couldn't lose her. So as soon as his feet touched the ground in Korea, he rushed to her apartment. He needed to see her, to hear her voice. He'd never been this desperate for another person's presence as he was at this very moment.

As her building pulled into his view his heart raced with excitement. He was going to see her again. He was going to fix things and let this 6-week bump in the road be just that in the story of the rest of their lives. As he stood infront of her door he felt nervous. What would she say? What would he say? Is she doing okay? His mind raced a mile a minute. He brings his hand up to knock when the door opens and a dressed-up Y/N exits her apartment.

Changbin's heart soars as she stood in front of him surprise etched on her features. "Baby...hey" He breathes out as he stares at her lovestruck. "What are you doing here, Changbin?" Y/N questioned taking a small step back away from him and looking away. Her hands shift behind her back as she bit her plush bottom lip. "What do you mean? I just got back. I thought we could hang out...like we always do" he states hopeful.

Y/N stares at him confused "What? Why would I want to do that?"

Changbin feels his heart crack at her harshness "I'm your boyfriend..a-and I just got back from tour. Didn't you miss me, babe?" He asks sadly as he takes a small step toward her. His hand caresses her forearm and slowly runs down to capture her hand in his. Y/N stares at where they meet.

"You should go home, Changbin."

Changbin stares at her in disbelief "Y/N...Are you breaking up with me?"

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion "We broke up that day before you left for tour" Changbin shakes his head in denial "No. No we didn't...y-you were just mad a-and said stuff you didn't mean like I did" Y/N crosses her arms over her chest as she scoffs "No. I meant it when I said I was done. Your friends were blatantly being rude to me whether they were joking or not I don't care and like I told Sol-i when she reached out to me 'I don't care what you have to say you should have listened to what I had to say instead of being such a dick.' Because you would have known that your friends crossed a line." Y/N states ferociously as she looks away from Changbin. Her arms crossed over her chest as her blood boiled. They stood in silence for what felt like an eternity before a small sniffle pulls Y/Ns attention toward Changbin.

Her heart ached as her stomach sank at the look on Changbin's face. All the color was drained and tears filled his eyes. His shoulders were slumped as his breathing grew rapid. His hands reach out toward her. "B-Baby...p-please, I know I was wrong. Please don't--don't leave me. Don't do this. I'll do anything please give me a chance" he pleads desperately. She stood frozen in shock at his reaction to her words. His hands find hers as he drops to his knees resting his forehead against the back of her hands as his body trembled. "Please! I can change...I was wrong I should have listened to what happened instead of freaking out. I'm sorry please I'm so sorry. We've been together for 4 years please don't throw it away like this" He urges as he continues to sob harshly.

"Changbin...stop okay?

He shakes his head rapidly "N-No" He sobs, his cries growing more and more desperate "Why are you being like this? Why can't we talk about this? Please.." He urges. Y/N shakes her head softly "We should move on...you should be with someone you love. With the way I'm always thrown under the bus with you...I can't trust that I'm that person"

Changbin felt like his soul was ripped from his body at her words. "You are! Baby I love you...I want to be with you. I'm sorry if you feel like I've thrown you under the bus. I should have listened. I'll be better, I can fix this I promise you I can fix this please let me" his voice was laced with guilt and desperation as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Changbin stop...you can't do this here" Y/N states looking around her parking lot hoping no one saw the idol knelt at her feet.

"You think I care about that? Do you think I care if people see us together? Y/N I've never hid you...I love you and I will do anything to make this right please give me a chance...we've been together for 4 years that has to count for something right? We can't just end like this. I'm so fucking sorry" his face was glistening with his tears as he stared up at her like a kicked puppy. "What will I do without you? I'm sorry I was an ass I won't do it again" Y/N felt her heartache at his pain. While his words hurt 6 weeks ago, she could see the pain she was causing Changbin was almost worse.

She felt guilty for doing this to him, she knew she would forgive him eventually so why did she feel the need to dig the knife in deeper to his heart? Maybe it was her way of getting back at him for all his backhanded compliments and insulting jokes throughout the years. But now? She felt sick to her stomach at her actions, how could they move past this? Why did she bring it this far?

As she stared at the tears streaming down his cheeks her resolve began to crack. "D-don't be like this..." she muttered and Changbin looked at her even more hurt. "Y/N, please don't end things like this...I-I'll do anything I didn't mean to hurt you or upset you please just give me a chance..." He sobs as he clung to her hips, his face soaking her shirt as his body trembled. "I'm stupid and terrible at communicating and I don't think I just act most of the time and I'm so fucking sorry please don't leave me...I can be better. I'll never do this again please give me a chance..." he plead as she felt tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I-I'll think about it...."

Taglist: @yangbbokari @lovesunshinefelix @threeopossumsinacoat @isabellah29 @hope-maine @minhwa @tr-mha-fan @whoa-jo @kibs-and-bits @your-favorite-pirate @summercoldstuff @bx-lov3 @multi-fandommaniac @yunho-leeknow @ka0ila @seungminsteddybear @jaquisos @nchhuhi @havenwithleeknow @galaxy4489 @hannahhhhs-things @captainchrisstan @skzfairyyydreamz @kyrennetwork

[yan-lorkai]

I’m quite new to this app so i’m sorry if i wrote this wrong :’) , but would it be possible to request:

Headcanons for Undertaker with a darling who is working at his shop while also having a crush on Undertaker, yet is completely oblivious to Undertaker wanting to court them too.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Hi darling! Yes, you did everything right. Don't right :). Hope you like this!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ You always thought Undertaker was funny. He was playful yet always affectionate teased you, often making jokes or comments that made you laugh so hard, though you never seem to understand some things he said. He liked his parables and riddles. But for him, you are immensely funny and you often caught him smiling while he looks at you - it's because he is thinking how much time you'll need it to realize that his gestures and words have another meaning and bear his romantic feelings for you. Another day? Another week? Another month? He have time on his hands, he can wait.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He finds excuses to be around you, “accidentally” brushing his hand against yours or standing just a bit too close. Often, he brings you treats or gifts, claiming they are leftovers or things he just happened to come across, though he goes out of his way to find things that will make you smile. And he is delighted whenever you let him feed you your food. He even lick his fingers after while maintaining eye contact.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He is very protective, insisting on walking you home or ensuring your safety, especially if you stay late at the shop. He often steals glances at you when you are busy helping someone chosing a coffin to bury their loved one or with the bureaucracy, a soft smile playing on his lips as he appreciates your dedication at your work. His compliments are cryptic or humorous, leaving you confused sometimes but always flattered.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Undertaker invites you to assist in his intricate experiments, using it as an excuse to spend more time together and share details he wouldn’t with anyone else. He gets a bit jealous if you talk about or interact too much with others, making dark jokes or snide comments, quickly covering them up with a laugh or two. He loves telling you embellished stories from his past, hoping to share pieces of his heart and hint at his affection, even if he doesn't downright admit he is a grim reaper to you. Not yet. Maybe he'll tell you in the future.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Whenever he has the chance, he lets his touch linger a bit longer than necessary, cherishing these small moments of contact. Your skin is so warm and soft, so human and he loves it. Though entertaining as it is, Undertaker really wants you to understand and realize everything he has been trying to convey. He can only wait for so long before taking things into his own hands.