“you Like The Pretty Boys, With The Pretty Voice!”

The Forgotten Sister

Chapter I - III

Pairing: Ekko x Fem!Reader

Tags: Minimal use of Y/N, no specific description of the reader, friends to lovers, CW swearing, CW blood, CW injury, CW violence, CW guns, TW death

A/N: I might have gotten carried away with how long this got…

Chapter II

"I missed you too..."

Feeling your sobs begin to calm and your eyes begin to puff from all the tears that cascaded down your cheeks, you gingerly take a small step back without entirely leaving your sister's embrace. Just enough to finally get a proper look at the face that changed with time. Vi was undoubtedly no longer the girl you remember looking up to as a child. The soft roundness of her cheeks that came with childhood was now replaced by sharp, hard lines with scars in places that weren't there before. And yet, despite the changes brought about by years apart, Vi looked... young. Like she hadn't lived with the chaos that covered Zaun like a blanket. Like she hadn't seen the death and destruction that followed as Silco flooded the Lanes with his damn shimmer.

"Where have you been all these years?" you ask, voice still trembling with emotion as your thumb traces over the tattoo on her cheekbone.

"I was... I was in Stillwater... But that doesn't matter! All that matters is that I'm here now." Vi says, head tilting lovingly into your touch.

"You were in Stillwater? All this time? Why?! H-how did you get out?"

"... someone... got me out,"

"It's the enforcer, isn't it?" Ekko says suddenly.

Having stood quietly from the side and letting you two sisters have your moment, a reunion long since overdue. Having watched with a soft chuckle as you bawled your eyes out and wet snot dripped down your chin. But now he stood with his stance firm and stiff. Arms crossed against his chest as the steel mask of a leader clicked into place on his handsome face.

"...an enforcer?" You gasp, involuntarily stepping away from your sister's embrace.

Your body physically recoiled from Vi, like her touch shimmered itself. Vi whispers your name, hurt flashing across her face at your visceral reaction.

But she didn't understand. She didn't know. The blood that painted your hands red and the disgusting sticky feeling that came with it from all the people who bled at your doorstep. People whose lives you so desperately tried to save as they lay dying. Beaten half to death by fucking enforcers. Some of them were sanctioned by Piltover, while others were greedy fuckers with pockets heavy with Silco's coin. And they said fissure folk were the shitty ones.

She doesn't know...

You tried to reason with yourself. But feelings of disgust and betrayal filled you faster than you could stop them. You take another step back, moving in line with Ekko. Gone was the love, replaced by suspicion and mistrust. The man beside you bumps his shoulder against yours, pulling your attention. You look at each other in silent conversation. He tilts his head in a gesture to somewhere, yet nowhere in particular. The movement you follow with a flick of your eyes, immediately knowing the message behind it. An understanding passed between you two confirmed with a nod.

"There's something we gotta show you," Ekko says to Vi before moving to lead the way.

You hobble after him silently, your cane thumping against the wooden floor, ignoring the confusion splayed on Vi's face. Seeing that none of you two were planning to explain anything further, she rushes to follow after. Opting to lag a bit ways behind. Taking in the view around her. A view so different than what you'd usually expect from Zaun. The sun bathed the base with a beautiful, bright glow. Its warmth touching the skin of her cheek as it peaked through the leaves. Children laughed and played, chasing after one another beneath the shade of firelight leaves. People walked and talked about, free from worry and strife. It was beautiful. Amazing what the group has accomplished in seven years. A small hidden reprieve from the chaos of the Lanes.

At the last set of stairs down the tree, steeper and more uneven than the rest, Ekko offers his elbow to you like clockwork. Carefully, you clamber down the steep stairs. Hand gripping tightly onto Ekko's forearm as your weak knee wobbled with every step. Vi rushes to hold onto you, hand about to reach for your other arm, when Ekko stops her with a chuckle.

"She'll smack you if you do that. And besides," he says, eyes looking towards you. Lovingly... longingly. A gaze much unbeknownst to you as you grunted at the feel of uncomfortable pressure straining against your knee at each step.

"She's doing great,"

"Damn right. My knee won't get stronger being babied," you hiss, taking another shaky step down onto the floor.

Finally...

You breathe a sigh of relief at the feeling of solid ground beneath your feet that doesn't quake or buckle at the slightest tremble of your knee.

Ekko really needs to fix these last few steps...

They wobbled too much for your liking. And they creaked in weird places that always made you antsy. Yep, he definitely needs to fix these. The man in question has stopped beside you, arm still outstretched, waiting as you find your bearings.

"You alright?" He whispers.

"Yeah, thank you for being such an excellent handrail." You whisper teasingly, giving his arm a playful pinch before letting go.

Ekko chuckles, shaking his head as he trudges forward a few paces before stopping. You follow, hobbling to a stop beside him. Eyes forward, looking at the slab of wall that makes up a part of the tree. A mural. A place of homage. A reminder of what you've all had to sacrifice.

"This is everyone that we've lost..." Ekko says, his voice somber as he looks at the colorful, familiar faces on the wall. Faces of loved ones, faces of lost ones... lost... but never forgotten.

"The price of our freedom..." you sigh.

"Some of it was enforcers... most was Silco."

Ekko wraps a pinky around yours. For comfort, you reckoned. But you weren't sure if he meant for you or for himself.

"Your sister works for him not because she has to but because she wants to."

Vi looks away. Expression torn, hurt. And your heart ached for her.

"I see you've found Jinx,"

"Her name is Powder... You're her sister! How can you call her that?"

"She hasn't been Powder in a long time, Vi,"

"So? Are you gonna ask me to leave her?! Is that what you did?!”

In a rush of fury, she lunges at you, hands grabbing onto the lapels of your coat, pulling you roughly towards her. Knuckles holding tight as you watched them turn white. Vi locked eyes with yours. A fire blazing hot behind those baby blues. But they did not burn you. Tone, cold as ice, you spit your next words, sharp like a knife. Meant to cut, meant to bleed.

"I... wasn't the one who left."

Vi breathes a heavy sigh like a fire doused with a bucket of cold water. Gently releasing you before stepping away, hiding her face behind the length of her hair. Ekko steps behind you as you stumble, steadying you. Eyes roaming over yours in worry, only calming once you gave him a nod.

You were alright...

"Look, Vi, I don't blame you for being gone. But you were gone for so long... things have changed. We, have changed,"

You step towards her, hand on her shoulder, gently squeezing it.

"Besides, we still have that... enforcer... friend of yours."

"Seems like I just keep making you mad today,"

"I remember it being... a unique talent of yours,"

Vi breathes an airy chuckle, turning to face you. Looking at you, like seeing you for the first time. You used to be so small, so frail. Someone she needed to protect. Like Powder... But now, look at you... You still limped, yes, but you stood tall. Eyes sharp, hands strong and steady. And you didn't take shit from anyone. You really grew up without her.

Turning towards Ekko, Vi says, "Her name is Caitlyn. She's after Silco. It's why she got me out in the first place. You can trust her. I promise."

You and Ekko give each other a look. Another silent conversation ensues. He nods, and you nod back.

"Alright, come on," he says before moving forward. You trailing behind him.

You both lead Vi through a tunnel-like vent in the wall, an exhaust pipe opening large enough for people to pass through. There, you find two boys, Mach and Tun, playing around. Pulling at their cheeks, making funny faces, and challenging the other to hold their laugh the longest. The same two boys who were supposed to be watching over the makeshift prison cell.

"Hey! How's our guest?" Ekko says, greeting the boys who squealed in excitement at the sight of him.

They scream his name happily as they run around him in excited circles before jumping towards you, pulling at the hem of your shirt, almost making you stumble.

"She's loud,"

"She shouts a lot,"

The two boys giggle in unison.

"Alright, you two, let's get her outta there," Ekko says, chuckling as the boys give a resounding "Yessir!".

Pulling down their masks, they race for the keys hanging on a hook beside the door. Pushing and shoving each other for it before Tun finally gets a hold of them with a triumphant "Yes!". Slotting the key into the lock, the gears turn and unlock with a click as the door swings open with a loud squeak. Inside, handcuffed to a statue in the center of the room, was a girl with a sack still tied around her head. Her identity may be hidden, but her role is betrayed by the golden edges of her uniform. Hidden by whatever she wore on top, it glinted where the light would hit. Shining despite the darkness of the room.

She grunted as she fought against her restraints, wiggling about and head snapping to the sound of something swinging open somewhere she couldn't see. To Tun's annoyance, Mach successfully grabs the keys from his hands and runs into the room, undoing the cuffs before pulling the sack off her head. Eyes blinking at the sudden glare, her hazy vision lands on the hand in front of her. A hand fully intending to help her up. The moment her eyes cleared, she slaps the offending appendage away. Mach gasps at the impact, moving away towards you and Ekko by the door. The woman's eyes follow the movement. Her sharp eyebrows pinched as her deep blue eyes narrowed, she glared at the two of you with all the anger she could muster.

"What have you done with Vi?"

... this is Caitlyn?

Also, thank you to those who thought chapter 1 was worth reading!!

@silas-222

@scarletrosesposts

drew and actress!reader read thirst tweets

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

warning: a little bit thirsty, as expected <3

The cast settled into their seats as the crew finished setting up the cameras and lighting.

“Why am I more nervous for this than any of the other interviews?” Madelyn laughed, straightening up her dress. The cast had already done a handful of different interviews for the third season of Outer Banks, the famous (or infamous) “Thirst Tweets” the last on the docket.

“No I am too, babes.” Y/n said, shaking Madelyn’s leg playfully. The three girls, Madelyn, Madison, and y/n, sat in front chatting while the boys, JD and Drew, were getting their hair “refreshed” before they began shooting.

“Alright, so here are your tweets,” one of the crew members said, handing each of them a phone preloaded with tweets of varying degrees of horniness.

“Oh my—” JD started to shout, but was cut off when Madison elbowed him.

“Don’t start yet!” Madison giggled, resting her phone in her lap, a blush already rising in her cheeks.

“Ok, you guys good?” The cameraman asked, shooting the cast a thumbs up.

“Yes!” The five of them shouted in unison as the camera began to roll.

“Alrighty, take it away… Madelyn.” The secondary camera operator focused on Madelyn, who looked down at her phone.

“Ok, this one is pretty straightforward: ‘Madelyn Cline is a mother’.” Madelyn giggled.

“Not just ‘a mother’, ‘mother’.” Madison corrected, causing Madelyn to shake her head bashfully.

“Ok, ok, Mads you go.” Y/n said, elbowing Madison lightly.

“‘Madison Bailey please kiss me’...” Madison looked into the camera, a cheeky grin on her face. “Ha, ha… no.”

The cast laughed before returning to their phones, looking through their tweets.

“‘Jonathan Davis I am free tomorrow at 5 pm if you want to go on a date and hold hands! And… redacted, redacted, redacted’.” Jonathan read.

“Sounds… fun?” Y/n commented, glancing back at JD, an eyebrow raised.

“Oh, ‘it’s true. Drew Starkey makes me go feral’.” Drew read sheepishly, his cheeks flushing. JD started to make some sort of animal noise, Drew joining in, the two of them playfully going “feral” behind the girls.

“Y/n, does Drew Starkey make you go feral?” Madelyn asked teasingly.

“Not in whatever way they were doing.” Y/n stifled a laugh, turning back to Drew, who shook his head with a grin.

“Ok, sure. You go, baby.” Drew said, rolling his eyes playfully.

“Alright…” Y/n scrolled, looking for a good tweet before continuing, “‘y/n is so fine, like please ruin my life I beg of you’. Wow, thanks I guess? For letting me ruin your life?”

The cast laughed before continuing back to their tweets, each of them feeling flushed and flattered by the very kind tweets.

“‘Before I watched Outer Banks I always classified the rich as annoying and vowed I’d never simp over one…’” Drew read, “‘until I met Rafe Cameron and flew up his ass like a bat’?”

“‘Flew up his ass like a bat’?” Y/n asked incredulously, her mouth agape.

“If somebody walked up to you on the street and said that to you…?” Madelyn asked Drew.

“Marry me.” Drew said nonchalantly.

“Drew, I need to ask you a question—” Y/n began, but collapsed into a fit of laughter before she could get the words out.

“Can I ‘fly up your ass like a bat’?” JD finished, making eye contact with Drew before the two of them moved in for a dramatic kiss, falling away just before their lips would’ve met. The girls let out surprised screams, grabbing onto each other before laughing.

“‘I love my boyfriend with all my heart, I truly do, but Madelyn Cline can sit on my face she’s so beautiful’.” Madelyn read, a small smirk on her face.

“Wow, that’s a lot… real.” Y/n said. Drew’s head whipped up, a look of confusion on his face.

“Is there something you need to tell us?” JD quipped, causing y/n to realize exactly what she said.

“No, no, no,” Y/n chuckled. “Madelyn Cline is very beautiful, but I am still very much feral for Drew Starkey.”

“You’ve got a thing for Camerons?” Madison asked, Madelyn and Drew leaning in with mischievous smiles on their faces.

“Yep, yep, that’s it.” Y/n laughed, nodding into the camera.

“‘Y/n is so beautiful, Drew Starkey can you fight?’” Y/n read with a chuckle, turning to look at Drew.

“Yes, yes I can.” Drew said into the camera, his face completely serious.

“Drew wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Madelyn clarified.

“Oh no, no, I will. Trust.” Drew raised his eyebrows, wrapping an arm around y/n’s shoulders before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. The cast let out a collective “awww”, y/n giggling bashfully.

“‘Drew Starkey could rail me anyday. Respectfully’.” Drew chuckled nervously. Madelyn and Madison looked between each other, their jaws dropped.

“Once again, I’m flattered. But… that’s reserved for this one—” Drew grabbed y/n’s shoulder, shaking her playfully. Y/n immediately put her hands over her face, hoping to cover the flustered expression on her face.

“Oh my god.” Y/n mumbled into her hands, the other cast members bursting out into fits of laughter at Drew’s boldness.

“Alright, and cut!” The cameraman said, the cast letting out cheers as they got up from their seats. As they stood, y/n felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist before turning back to Drew.

“How you feeling, baby?” Drew hummed, grinning down at y/n cheekily.

“Flattered. Very.” Y/n giggled, pressing a kiss to Drew’s jaw.

“Well, a lot of those tweets certainly had some… good ideas.” Drew whispered.

“Starkey! You’re… too much.” Y/n felt her cheeks warm as Drew kissed her languidly.

“Am I wrong though, baby?” He teased.

“Let’s see when we get to the hotel.” Y/n said, stepping away from Drew and grabbing his hand as they made their way out of the studio… but she had a feeling they probably weren’t going to make it to the hotel.

Can you please write dumb/subtle/random/cute things batboys will do while they are crushing on reader?

♯ FEEL YOUR LIPS CRUSH . . .

— gn!reader, fluff

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

BRUCE WAYNE

becomes overly observant but awkwardly obvious

bruce wayne is a master of observation—trained to notice the smallest details in a room, a person, or a crime scene. but when it comes to you, this skill becomes more of a curse than a blessing. his crush transforms his usual precision into something downright awkward as he hyper-focuses on the tiniest parts of your life.

it starts innocently enough. you’ll be in the middle of a casual conversation when bruce interrupts, his deep voice breaking through your train of thought.

“you’ve switched your coffee order recently,” he says matter-of-factly, his piercing blue eyes locking on yours.

you blink, momentarily confused. “uh, yeah. i wanted to try something different.”

“it’s good,” he replies, his tone completely serious, as if your new preference for caramel flavored coffee over vanilla is a critical observation.

sometimes his comments catch you so off guard that you don’t even know how to respond. like the time you came into the room wearing a pair of old sneakers. bruce, who was leaning against the kitchen counter sipping his coffee, glanced down and said, “those laces are frayed. you should replace them.”

you laughed nervously, unsure if he was joking. “uh, thanks for the tip?”

but bruce wasn’t joking. “i’ll send alfred to pick up new ones. you don’t want them snapping mid-step.”

he tries to play it cool, he really does, but his constant streak of seemingly random observations only makes his feelings more obvious. one afternoon, you find him glancing at your notebook while you jot something down. without even looking at you, he says, “you press harder with the pen when you’re tired. your handwriting’s smaller today.”

you set your pen down, giving him a skeptical look. “do you . . . keep track of my handwriting, bruce?”

his face doesn’t change, though you swear his ears flush the faintest shade of pink. “no,” he says smoothly, taking a sip of his coffee. “it’s just. . . noticeable.”

it’s the way he says it—quiet and genuine—that sends your heart fluttering. he doesn’t realize how much he’s revealing, but his small, awkward comments and laser focus on the details of your life make it abundantly clear.

the funny thing is, you’re not the only one noticing. alfred, who’s known bruce wayne longer than anyone, often raises an eyebrow or hides a knowing smirk whenever bruce starts one of his “random” observations.

( “perhaps master wayne should focus on his own handwriting.” bruce glares at alfred, but his lack of a comment only makes the butler’s smirk grow wider. )

finds excuses to be helpful

bruce’s wealth is something he wields with the subtlety of a battering ram when he’s crushing on someone. his intentions are good—he genuinely wants to help—but it often comes off as over-the-top or hilariously unnecessary. for someone as logical and composed as the bat, using his money to make your life easier feels like a no-brainer, but he doesn’t realize just how obvious it makes his feelings.

it starts small at first. you might casually mention needing to replace something—your laptop is acting up or your phone is outdated. the next day, without fail, a box will mysteriously appear at your doorstep. inside, you’ll find not just a replacement but the absolute best version of the device, meticulously selected and clearly expensive.

“bruce,” you say, holding up the latest model of a WE laptop you can’t imagine ever affording on your own. “did you do this?”

he looks up from his work, his expression calm and unbothered. “it’s practical,” he says, as if that’s a reasonable excuse for gifting you a piece of technology worth more than your rent. “your old one was slow. it’s inefficient to struggle with outdated equipment.”

when you try to protest, he waves it off, as though spending thousands of dollars on you is no more different than buying a cup of coffee.

but it doesn’t stop there. one morning, you’re sitting in the kitchen with him, absently complaining about how your car keeps breaking down. it’s an offhanded comment, something you don’t think twice about, but bruce takes it as a challenge. by the time you’ve finished your coffee, he’s already pulled out his phone to make arrangements.

“wait,” you interrupt him, narrowing your eyes as you catch him murmuring something to alfred over the phone. “what are you doing?”

“nothing,” he replies too quickly, but later that day, you’re startled to find a sleek new car parked outside your home, the keys and a handwritten note from the butler sitting on your counter.

“bruce!” you exclaim, storming into the study to confront him.

he doesn’t even look up from his computer. “your old car was unreliable. this one is safer.”

“that’s not the point!”

“it’s just a car,” he says with a small shrug, though there’s a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth.

despite his attitude, it’s clear he’s putting an incredible amount of thought into everything he does for you. his gestures are less about showing off his wealth and more about making sure you never have to struggle, even in the smallest ways. because to him, it’s just logical—he has the resources, so why wouldn’t he use them to make your life easier?

DICK GRAYSON

finds excuses to touch you

for someone as physically expressive as dick grayson, touch comes as naturally as breathing—but when he’s crushing on you, it’s a whole new level. he’s not even aware of how much he does it at first, but the moments start to add up. it’s little things at first: the way he always seems to find a reason to brush his hand against yours, the casual way his shoulder bumps into you when you’re walking side by side, or the way he’ll lean close when he’s explaining something, his hand ghosting over yours as he gestures.

but then, it becomes less about the accidental and more about the intentional. when you’re sitting on the couch together, he’ll sling an arm over the back of it, his fingers close enough to brush against your shoulder. he’ll offer his hand when you’re stepping out of a car or climbing over something, even if you don’t need it, the contact lingers just a second longer than necessary.

“careful,” he’ll say, his voice soft and teasing, even though the step you’re taking isn’t remotely precarious.

“you know i can walk, right?”

he grins, squeezing your hand briefly before letting it go. “just being chivalrous.”

and then, there are the moments when he gets so wrapped up in the conversation or your presence that he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing. like the time you were sitting together, and he absentmindedly started playing with the hem of your sleeve. it wasn’t until you cleared your throat that he looked down, startled, his ears turning pink as he quickly let go.

“sorry,” he mumbled, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “didn’t realize i was doing that.”

but the blush on his cheeks told you everything you needed to know.

for dick, touch is a way of expressing what words sometimes fail to say. every hand on your shoulder, every playful nudge, and every lingering hug is his way of saying, i like being near you. i like you. even if he hasn’t quite found the courage to say it out loud, his actions make it impossible to miss.

teases you relentlessly (but gets flustered when you tease him back)

teasing is how dick shows affection, how he keeps things light, and, more than anything, how he tries to get your attention. when he’s crushing on you, though, his teasing takes on a new level. every little thing you do seems to give him material to poke fun at, not in a mean way, but in a way that makes it clear he’s paying attention to everything about you.

if you trip over a word while talking, he’ll immediately smirk. “careful there, shakespeare,” he’ll quip. “do we need to enroll you in a public speaking class?” or if you drop something, he’s ready with a dramatic gasp. “wow, butterfingers, do you need me to carry everything for you? i could be your personal assistant, but i charge by the hour.”

it’s playful, yes, but it’s also consistent. he’s always looking for ways to make you laugh, even if it’s at your own expense. like the time you were struggling to open a stubborn jar of jam, and he swooped in, popping the lid off with ease.

“guess i’m just the stronger one here,” he said, flexing his biceps with an exaggerated grin. “it’s okay; not everyone can have these guns.”

but if you so much as raise an eyebrow or fire back with your own jab, the tables turn in an instant. one day, after he’d spent a full five minutes teasing you about your choice of coffee ( “a triple-shot vanilla latte with almond milk? fancy. are you sure you don’t need a royal escort to carry it for you?” ), you finally snapped back.

“oh, and i suppose you’re the coffee expert, mr. regular black coffee? real creative. i bet the baristas have your order memorized.”

the grin on his face faltered for a split second, his eyes widening just slightly. then came the blush—the faint pink hue creeping up his cheeks as he tried to recover, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“hey, black coffee is . . . classic,” he mumbled, suddenly unable to meet your gaze.

and that’s the thing about dick grayson: as much as he loves dishing it out, he can’t always handle it when it’s directed at him. the moment you tease him back, especially if it’s about something he’s sensitive about (like his perfectly styled hair or his need to one-up everyone), he turns into an awkward, flustered mess.

“you spend how long on your hair every morning?” you asked him once, teasingly ruffling his carefully combed locks after he made fun of the mismatched socks you were wearing.

he froze, his hand shooting up to fix the damage. “it’s not that long,” he protested, his voice defensive but light.

“oh, come on! i bet you use at least three different products. don’t tell me you don’t have a favorite brand of gel.”

his cheeks flushed crimson as he stammered, “i—you know, it’s just . . . maintenance! can’t all of us roll out of bed looking flawless, okay?”

you laughed, and he groaned, muttering something under his breath about how you were “way too good at this.”

JASON TODD

acts nonchalant but is always nearby

jason todd is many things—brash, sarcastic, sometimes even reckless—but when it comes to feelings he doesn’t fully understand, he defaults to keeping his distance . . . or at least pretending he’s keeping his distance. the truth is, when he’s crushing on you, he’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame, always finding an excuse to be wherever you are without making it obvious. or so he thinks.

take your quiet sunday afternoons, for instance. maybe you’ve settled on the couch with a book, enjoying the rare peace. jason walks in, all nonchalant, like he’s just passing through. he glances at you—just a quick flick of his eyes, like he’s making sure you’re still there—and then he settles in the chair across from you, a spot he never uses otherwise.

“what are you doing?” you ask, watching as he pulls out a book of his own, the same one he’s been pretending to read for weeks.

he doesn’t even look up. “reading.”

you roll your eyes but say nothing, knowing full well he’s barely getting through a page. you can feel his gaze on you every few minutes, like he’s trying to memorize the way your brow furrows in concentration or how you chew on the corner of your lip when you’re focused. and if you catch him? he quickly snaps his attention back to his book, pretending obliviousness.

“didn’t know you liked this spot so much,” you tease, gesturing to the chair.

a smirk plays on the edge of his lips, though there’s a flicker of defensiveness in his eyes. “what, i can’t sit here now? thought it was a free country.”

it’s always like that—his attempts to mask how much he cares come with a side of sarcasm. but the truth slips through in the little details. like how he never actually leaves the room until you do. or how, even when you’re sitting in silence, he finds a reason to linger. maybe he’s scrolling through his phone, flipping through a magazine, or staring at the ceiling like he’s deep in thought. but really, he’s just soaking in your presence.

and then there are the times when he doesn’t even bother pretending. like when you’re sitting in the kitchen, finishing up some work, and he wordlessly sits down across from you, arms crossed and chin propped in his hand.

“what?” you ask, glancing up at him.

“nothing,” he replies, though the slight curve of his lips gives him away.

it’s not that jason is afraid to admit he likes you ( although there is a possibility he is but we don’t talk about that )—it’s just that he doesn’t know how. so instead, he hovers. he sticks close enough to feel like he’s part of your world but not so close that he risks giving himself away. so while he might act nonchalant, the truth is, he’s anything but. every glance, every lingering moment, every excuse to be near you is jason’s way of saying he cares—he just hasn’t found the words yet.

fixes things you didn’t even know were broken

jason’s way of showing he cares is a little unconventional, but it’s always in the small, unspoken ways. he’s the type to notice things that no one else would—things that have been lingering for ages in the background of your life, just waiting for someone to fix them. but because it’s jason, he’ll never bring it up. he’ll just do it, no questions asked, and then act like it never happened.

it starts with the little things. your chair in the living room? it’s been squeaking for months now, but it’s not something you’ve gotten around to fixing. it’s one of those annoyances you’ve learned to ignore, a piece of background noise that doesn’t really bother you enough to take action.

until one day, it suddenly stops.

you sit down in the chair, and for the first time in ages, it’s silent. your eyes narrow. you didn’t fix this—so who did?

“jason?” you ask, glancing toward him as he lounges on the couch, pretending to be deep in whatever he’s doing.

he doesn’t even look up. “what?”

“the chair. it’s. . . quiet now.”

he pauses for just a moment, but it’s enough to catch the shift in his demeanor. he shrugs, barely concealing the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “must’ve gotten lucky. or maybe it fixed itself.”

you know it didn’t. but before you can press him on it, he’s already back to whatever he was doing, like the whole thing is no big deal. it’s almost as if he’s trying to play it off, hoping you won’t notice that he’s been quietly fixing things in your life, one at a time.

the next thing happens a few days later. you walk into the kitchen, only to find that the light above the sink, the one that flickers every time you try to use it, is now working. perfectly.

you stop, standing in the doorway and just staring at it. there’s no way you fixed it. and it certainly wasn’t broken enough to need replacing. so once again, you turn your gaze to jason, who’s now sitting at the kitchen table, eating a snack and acting entirely uninterested in your investigation.

“jason, did you—?”

“no,” he interrupts and continues watching the video essay he turns on every time he eats.

“uh-huh,” you say, narrowing your eyes, walking toward the light and testing the switch again just to make sure you’re not imagining things. it stays steady, glowing without hesitation.

he’ll never say it out loud, but each fix—each thoughtful act—speaks louder than any words could. the broken things don’t matter, because jason is here, fixing them in his own way, piece by piece.

TIM DRAKE

gets shy when you’re too close

tim drake is usually the picture of composure. he’s calm, collected, and can handle himself in just about any situation, but when you’re too close, all that confidence seems to slip away. it starts small. you’re sitting beside him, maybe sharing a space while working on something, and without thinking, you slide just a little bit closer to him. maybe your arm brushes against his, or your knee nudges his under the table.

it’s enough to throw him off, just for a second. his heart rate picks up slightly, and he tries to hide it behind the screen of his laptop, pretending to focus harder than he really is. but he knows, deep down, that he’s hyperaware of you now—of the way you’re sitting, of the way your presence seems to fill the space between the two of you.

his eyes flicker toward you, but quickly dart away, like he’s afraid you caught him staring. it’s an involuntary reaction, the nervous little shift in his posture as he tries to seem as casual as possible. he clears his throat, his voice slightly quieter than usual. “uh, sorry, was just—just making sure the laptop was charging.”

it’s obvious to you that he’s not really talking about the laptop. he’s trying to act like it’s no big deal, but every time you’re too close to him, tim’s body betrays him. the way his leg shifts a little away from yours under the table, or how he tries to subtly angle his body so there’s just a little more space between you and him, even if he doesn’t want there to be.

you might not notice the subtle movements, but tim does. and every time you get close to him, whether it’s by accident or on purpose, he feels a flutter of nerves that he can’t quite explain. it’s not that he doesn’t want you near him—far from it—but the proximity messes with him in ways he doesn’t understand. his thoughts get jumbled, and his usual calmness slips, replaced by the flustered feeling he’s not used to.

if you ever catch him looking at you, his gaze quickly drops, and a soft blush creeps up his neck. “i—i didn’t mean to—uh, just making sure you’re not too cramped.” he mutters, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his laptop, anything to distract himself from the fact that he’s suddenly very aware of you being so close.

sometimes, when you get too near, tim will just freeze for a moment. it’s like his body can’t process the closeness, and the little awkward silence stretches between you two. it’s not uncomfortable—far from it—but it’s a vulnerable thing for tim, this closeness he doesn’t know how to handle.

but if you keep talking, or even just touch his arm gently when you lean over to look at something, tim’s composure slips even more. he shifts in his seat, trying to act like he’s calm, but his hand might twitch toward yours for just a second before he pulls it away like he’s afraid you’ll notice how he’s reacting.

follows you around during patrol

it’s late at night, the moon casting faint silver light across the streets, and the only sounds are the hum of city life and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. you’re out on a walk, maybe trying to clear your head or just enjoy the quiet, unaware that someone is watching you from the shadows. tim, clad in his suit, has been tailing you for a while now. it’s not that he’s trying to be creepy or intrusive, but rather, he’s just . . . concerned.

tim is the kind of person who can’t turn off his instincts, and tonight, for whatever reason, they’re telling him to stay close. he’s perched high above you on a rooftop, watching you walk along the street below, trying to remain unseen. his red robin suit blends into the darkness of the night, the shadows making him nearly invisible to anyone who might be looking.

he’s not sure why he’s doing it—it’s not like you’ve asked him to keep an eye on you—but there’s something about the quiet stillness of the night that has him on edge. maybe it’s because you’ve been a little distant lately, or maybe he’s just worried something might happen to you in the dark. either way, he’s got his eyes on you, and he won’t stop until you’re safely back where you belong.

he’s quick, agile, moving like a shadow himself. you might hear a faint creak of a fire escape ladder or the flurry of footsteps just out of your line of sight, but when you look, there’s nothing there—just the empty street, the soft glow of streetlights, and the ever-present hum of the city.

it’s when you stop for a moment, distracted by something—maybe you’re checking your phone or admiring a nearby storefront—that he’s closest. in that moment, tim takes a chance, moving closer to you, just a few feet away in the darkened alley. he’s not trying to startle you, but there’s something in his gut that tells him he can’t let you out of his sight, especially when it’s this late, and the streets feel a little emptier than usual.

he’ll hover just out of view, giving you space but never quite leaving you alone. if you keep walking, he follows, keeping his distance but staying close enough to ensure you’re safe. when you stop at a crosswalk or glance around, he’s already a few rooftops away, peering down at you from above, making sure you’re not being followed.

the closer you get to home, the more relaxed tim feels, but he never lets his guard down entirely. even when you reach the safety of your doorstep, he lingers just out of sight, making sure you get inside without any issues. he’ll remain in the shadows for a moment longer, watching as you lock the door behind you, ensuring you’re safe before finally letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

only then does he disappear into the night, his heart still racing, his mind replaying the images of your walk. he’ll retreat to his hidden vantage point, slipping into the dark corners of gotham once more, but the small weight of relief that you’re safe settles deep in his chest. even though he doesn’t want to admit it, there’s a part of him that feels content knowing you’re okay—even if you’ll never know how closely he’s watched over you.

u ever start feeling super social start texting all of ur friends to ask how theyre doing and a couple seconds later when u start getting replies it’s like. I actually dont want to talk to anyone at all

“who are you romancing” will they be down for poly relationship?? i can take 4 🙏

Bruce Wayne kisses like you're the last thread of sanity holding him to this world. He'll cradle your face in his hands, lips making long, languidly slow movements over your own. By the end of it, you're pushed against some kind of furniture and panting, while he's already leaving to pull on his cowl. It hurts to see him go, yet you know that he'll be home again to kiss you senseless until the world makes sense.

Richard Grayson kisses like he'll be dead tomorrow. Little pecks along your cheek, forehead, neck—anywhere he can get those plush lips on. He'll kiss you until you're both breathless, chests heaving and faces flushed. He'll love you until the day he dies, and he makes sure that you know that. Every day, he spends like it's his last, and every day, he makes sure to give you so many kisses, you're drowning in his love.

Jason Todd kisses like he doesn't know how. Sure, he's had a few hookups, especially during his early days as Red Hood, but he's never kissed a person like you. He loves you, it's as simple as that. With others, he is rough and fast, not knowing how to slow down and just enjoy the presence of the person beneath him. With you, all he can do is be gentle, because you're the only person who has stayed and loved him as the broken man he is.

Tim Drake kisses you like he's trying to study you. He'll nip at your neck and jaw just to see how you react, just to grin to himself as he observes the way you melt into him when his lips meet yours. He'll let his hands wander to see what makes you relax, what makes your lips stutter against his. He enjoys every interaction like you are his subject and he is the scientist. He needs to know everything. Knowledge calls for him in his blood, and you, his love, are the doorway to it.

AgedUp!Damian Wayne kisses expensively. He starts at your jaw, making soft motions towards your lips until he finally claims them with his own. His wide hands hold you in place by the waist and his dark hair tickles your skin. He'll take his time, loving on you the way you deserve. He knows just how to kiss you like he knows just how to kill a man. He kisses soft and slow, because why would he have to rush? He has his beloved in his arms, whispering his name against his lips; what more could he want?

# CHRISTMAS TREE DECORATING AND CHAOS ── .✦ ( decorating trees with batboys ‘separated’! ⋆౨ৎ

a/n: I literally feel so happy genuinely now, I guess my mental health is getting better && anyways i have 64 requests to get to… i truly need to speed run through these but some I can’t do sadly 😭 so sorryy ᥫ᭡, tags: (batboys x fem!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

The king of enthusiasm: As soon as you suggest decorating the tree together, he’s all in.

“We’re going for the most extra tree Gotham has ever seen!” He wants it tall enough to touch the ceiling and glittery enough to blind someone.

He’s the guy who insists on climbing to the very top to put on the star, even though he wobbles dangerously on the ladder.

Sings Christmas songs (terribly off-key he’s also like tone deaf and beat deaf it’s a curse to hear him sing something at karaoke) while you decorate, complete with dramatic twirls and spins around the tree.

Accidentally tangles himself in the lights at least twice. “I’m fine, I’m fine! I was just… testing the durability!”

Insists on taking a million photos of you with the finished tree, calling you his “Christmas angel.”

When it’s all done, he dims the lights, wraps an arm around you, and whispers, “This might be my favorite Christmas ever.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

He pretends to be indifferent. “Decorating a tree? Sounds boring.” But the second you start, he’s invested.

He’s surprisingly good at untangling lights and getting them perfectly spaced on the tree. “What? I’ve got steady hands.”

Jason leans into more minimalistic decor deep reds, dark greens, and gold accents but he lets you take the lead. “You want glittery ornaments? Fine. But I draw the line at tinsel.” (he’s like those sad beige moms but with like dark traditional Christmas colors…)

Complains about how prickly the tree is the entire time but still helps you string popcorn garlands because he knows it makes you happy.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

He’s excited about decorating but is terrible at it. Tim tries, but he’s way better at figuring out the tech side of things (like synchronized tree lights) than actually hanging ornaments.

Spends 20 minutes untangling lights and another 20 trying to figure out why one strand isn’t working. “It’s science! There’s a method to this madness.”

He’s the type to sneak a caffeine break halfway through while you keep decorating. “What? I need fuel to focus!”

Insists on hanging some nerdy ornaments—little Batman logos, Star Wars-themed ones, or even a tiny Robin figurine.

When you get frustrated with his lack of artistic flair, he pulls you close and says, “Hey, at least I’m good company, right?”

After it’s all done, he insists on dimming the lights and turning on the synchronized tree music. “Look at that. A masterpiece.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Initially acts like it’s beneath him. “Why would I waste time decorating a tree?” But he ends up being surprisingly good at it.

Damian has an eye for symmetry, so every ornament has to be perfectly spaced. “No, that one is too close to the red one. Move it.”

If you mention that decorating the tree is a nostalgic tradition for you, he softens immediately. “Fine. But this had better be worth it.”

He refuses to wear a Christmas sweater, but you catch him smiling when you put on a ridiculous reindeer headband.

Titus gets involved, carrying around ornaments and wagging his tail, which Damian pretends to be annoyed by but secretly loves.

When the tree is finished, he stands back with his arms crossed, pretending not to care. But when you beam at him, he quietly says, “It looks… nice. I suppose this wasn’t a complete waste of time.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

(He buys like 40 ft Christmas trees for the main ball in the manor and like that’s almost impossible to decorate without professionals)

The ultimate perfectionist. He has a very clear vision for the tree, but he tries to let you take the lead. “It’s your tradition. I’ll follow your lead… mostly.”

Insists on using the tallest tree that will fit in Wayne Manor and hires a team to bring it in.

He’s all about elegant, classic decorations white lights, glass ornaments, and a tasteful tree topper. But if you want colorful lights or quirky ornaments, he’ll indulge you.

Offers to lift you up to reach the highest branches instead of letting you use a ladder. “I don’t need you breaking your neck before the gala.”

Alfred brings hot cocoa and cookies halfway through, smiling at how relaxed Bruce looks around you.

When the tree is done, he turns to you and says, “It’s perfect. Just like this moment.” Then he pulls you into a rare, heartfelt kiss under the twinkling lights.

FAMILY, FAMILY DEAR BATS! 🦇

Synopsis : What happens when a normal reader enters Batfamily. Not by getting orphaned or saved but rather just visiting her uncle for the first time ( it's Bruce ). Now somehow she's become the unofficial therapist of this family and for unknown reasons the only one with enough common sense.Also why is everyone so Overprotective?

Or

Normal reader X Platonic Batfamily

Chapter 1 :-

Your life was pretty uneventful and even, except for a few ups and downs here and there. But still it was as ordinary as it could get, living with a mother that had nursing as a profession and your father being an office worker made it normal but nice.

That was until one day when your mother told you about your uncle’s existence. Her cousin to be exact.Well excuse you for being surprised- YOU didn't even know you had another living relative ??? And they just dropped the bomb so casually – that too at dinner time !!

“ I haven't actually met him yet but the media has framed him to be… quite unique.” Your mother quotes. “ I talked to him, he's a kind man and I think meeting him would do us some good.” Your father sees the way your one way from questioning reality so he gently pats your back and smiles.

“ Don't worry little star, if it makes you feel better she told me two days ago.” He says as your mother lightly giggles and the two make a couple of jokes here and there. “ You two…really..” you groan.

 As the dinner slowly comes to an end and your father and mother pick up the dishes and drop them at the sink, your mother glances at your father telling him to speak. “ Ahem-” he fake coughs to get your attention, “ This summer we're planning to send you to live with him.” 

You look at him , your eyes wide. “ I beg your finest pardon-WHaT!?” they both nod and you violently shake your head. “ What happened to you two going with me ?”

They share a glance , “ We'll be going together but you'll stay a bit longer and get to know him better. He's family after all."

“ Mom, dad ! You've got to be kidding me.” You try to reason, “ I don't even know him, Heck I didn't even know he existed until a few moments ago and you're telling me to just go and live with him out of nowhere !!”

Your mother puts a hand on your shoulder and you just know you're going to lose. “ Sweetie, my cousin isn't a bad man. Just think of it as meeting a new friend and also I heard Gotham has one of the best medical units in the world~"

You think for a moment before a sigh escapes your lips. You can't defeat them anyway, might as well try. ( Which is totally not because you're excited about checking out the hospitals in Gotham and their advancement. Nope sir, No way)

“ Fine, I'll go. When are we leaving ?” You ask to get up from the table. “ Tomorrow.” 

“ WhAt-”

…

Moving forward you are currently standing in front of the totally not terrifying and scary Mansion inside the most amazing and sunny Gotham. Get the sarcasm here ? Yeah, me too.

Your mother dials the number and the bell rings and runs until it's finally picked up. “ Bruce Wanye here.” his voice sounds horse, he was probably asleep you think. It's only 11am right now. You've slept far later.

“ Hello…yeah…it's me...” 

The Giant Gate automatically opens and the three of us enter. You take in the scenery and like you thought this place is really nice. It's a billionaire’s garden afterall. Just then a voice comes from inside the Mansion and a butler comes out.

He’s an old British looking man, the way he moves is elegant like those movies you've seen and the way he greets your parents and you is so nerve cracking. “ A pleasure to meet you Miss Rachel and Sir Lucas.” He greets them and then his eyes turn to you.

“ And this is?”

“ Y/n but please..call me Julia.” You reply.

“ Miss Julia then.” He states , “ please come in. Master Bruce has been waiting for your arrival.” He brings you all to the meeting area. As you all take a seat the butler bows yet again and walks away.

“ I'll get Mister Bruce here.” He says walking away.

Your gaze that was previously fidgeting back and forth now has time to look around. This house was so splendid and beautiful and everything was exceptional and well cared for.

Few minutes pass before the door chimes open and walks in on the Man you searched about last night. His posture is elegant like a noble, similar to the butler, yet his eyes are filled with dark circles.Youve got a very good feeling he hardly sleeps.

“ A pleasure to meet you.” He says while shaking hands with your parents and then taking a seat. “ I'm sorry it took me a while. I was busy and hardly had time to rest due to the WE business and projects coming up.” 

Your mother nodes. “ It's understandable Bruce. You've got a great burden on you and it can get hard.” You sit next to your father and mother, right in the middle of the giant sofa as they chat.

Bruce while talking turns his attention to you and you see how his eyes briefly soften and there's some sadness in them. But it vanished too quickly for you to think it was there.

“ This is your daughter ?” He asks.

“ Told you long enough to notice.” Your mother dabs a small sarcastic smile. She loves chaos far too much. “ I apologize-”

“ I'm kidding Bruce !” Your mother retorts back. “ This is my little baby girl , Julia Y/n.”

You smile at him awkwardly and he returns the gesture. “ How old are you, Julia ?”

“ I'm sixteen, Mr Wanye.”

“ Oh, you're close to Damien's age-” he remarks , “Please call me Bruce. I'm your uncle, Julia.” He smiles. 

“ Alright, uncle Bruce... and uh, who's Damien ?” you ask curious. Your parents definitely haven't mentioned a Damien.

" He's my son. So he'd be your cousin, Julia."

" Oh !" You glare at your parents for not telling you this and they just nervously turn away. They live messing with you far too much. Sigh

" How old is he, uncle Bruce ?"

" He's eighteen." Noticing your curiosity he deemed to telling you more.

" He's currently on a little trip to his elder brother's place. They'll be coming here by tomorrow" he smiled.

Okay that's it. How many cousins did you have ? You were told about one uncle and that's it.

" I see."

And you parents and uncle get back to their conversation. Soon enough the butler returns with some refreshments and introduces himself as Alfred Pennyworth.

Once you've eaten, you excuse yourself to look around the place and the butler whom you now know as Alfred guides you.

The Mansion is bigger than you initially thought and Mr. Alfred is a nice companion to talk to. He tells you about your cousins (surprise suprise, THERE'S MORE THAN SIX) and about how most of them are adopted except Damien who used to call himself the “ blood son” and all their shenanigans.

It's fun to learn about your soon-to-be-new family. All of them seem to sound like interesting individuals and you could use some cousins to play with. Alfred even mentions their hobbies and how they like to prank each other.

Also did you mention how the way to Gotham was the most nerve cracking thing ever. Like this is the city that batman-THE BATMAN couldn't cleanse after almost two and half decades of work. So it's an amazing day nevertheless.

While exploring the Mansion with Alfred your steps stop when a specific picture catches your eyes. You stop and observe it.

Two adults stood along with a small kid that you deemed to be eight to ten years old. The picture drew you in like nothing ever did. It had this air around it that just couldn't explain.

“ Lovely picture, No ?” Alfred’s voice broke your concentration. Your eyes slid to his and you smiled slightly. “ It is. Who are they ? The woman seems to resemble my mom.”

“ That's Miss Martha and Mr Thomas along with young master Bruce. It's a family photo before their death.” Alfred reminisced. “ It's been a tradition for generations and master Bruce has continued it.” He guided you to the latest picture of the family.

It felt forced.

They all felt too far away in this ( like they didn't want to be there ). Even Bruce felt off. Different from the smiling man you had just met. He seemed tired and sad.

“ Those are my cousins ?” You asked, hoping Alfred didn't see the look in your eyes

“ Yes miss Julia.” He told you which was who by pointing and explaining their descriptions. Being a sixteen year old girl with an intense love for history and lore and yaoi, you tried your best to listen.

…

“ It was really nice to meet family. Thanks for having us Bruce.” Your mother hugged Bruce which he returned and then he shaked hands with your father. “ No thank you for coming. I'm kind of ashamed to admit, it gets lonely without my children here..” He chuckled.

" Well you won't get lonely not with our dear Julia here ! She had a tendency to make people break their shell and fit in." You father added.

" She sounds like a lovely child. Does she perhaps have an interest in medicine ? She kept asking about it during our conversations." 

Your father and mother shared a small grin. " She does. It's all she can ever dream about."

" That's...good." his eyes flickered to you.

You had fallen asleep an hour ago during dinner and was currently laying on the sofa. Your snores echoed throughout the Mansion. Your parents chuckled and Bruce couldn't help but think it was a pleasant change.

A child that didn't have to fight crime.

One that didn't have to take the burden of the world.

He had already investigated your and your parents backgrounds and confirmed that your mother was indeed his blood cousin. The blood part was maybe due to Damien kind of rubbing off on him.

It was a shock to find out about her existence. Even more to know his mother had a elder sister that passed away few years back and her only child had disappeared as a toddler. That was your mom.

He would never even know of her existence if not for her searching for her parents and finding him. He almost cried when he saw her picture, she resembled his mother in looks except her hair was black.

But you, your looked like the exact replica of his mother. Like a younger version.

He knew your personality was meek yet it had kindness and a spirit all his children had. It was nice chatting with you during dinner. You expressed your interest so well and he knew that his kids would love you. Maybe even Damien. 

Talking to a kid like this , carefree and smiling reminded him of what he had lost.It almost felt like his children hadn't left.

That part really hurt.

“ Alfred will take you to the rooms. You can have any you like. Have a pleasant sleep, I'll see you all in the morning.” He said leaving you and your parents in Alfred's care (not before glancing at you one final time.)

Time for his duty.

TBC…

Jay Jo dating hc’s

🚲 Just like with Shelly, Jay will seem uninterested and unimpressed at first. Often being either blunt or not responding. He would rather stay in his studies or ride his bike.

🚲 Unlike vinny, he is not a romantic. He would be straight and matter of factly. He doesn’t see a point in beating around the bush. If he likes you he will say it straight up, but not without contemplating and badly slept nights as well as a lot of advice from Dom and Minu. Maybe even Vinny to keep him down to earth.

🚲 If you are dating Jay you need a lot of patience. His parents are strict and would not approve of a relationship, especially his mother who thinks it will be a distraction and that Jay should focus on studies instead. This would cause things to be like a mood swing.

🚲 If Jay would once again have a fight with his mom or his mom telling him to not come back home for the night he would probably go to your place. He wouldn’t want to talk about it. He’d rather spent his doing something else than talk about his problems.

🚲 ‘babe i fell down the stairs today. It was really funny.’ ‘How’s that funny.’ ‘My friend asked me why i started lying down. Some ppl saw me fall.’ ‘Oh.’ ‘Babe you’re being dry again. Dryer than the desert. You need water.’ ‘Don’t pour water on me again please.’

🚲 he’s more of a listener. So if you yap a lot he wouldn’t mind. He listens and remembers very well. He is pretty dry with responses to he’ll let you do most of the talking, but if you give him a chance to also talk about his things he’ll get a little but flustered because he’ll feel like he’ll be put on the spot

🚲 He would let you ride his bike if you can ride one, if you can’t he’ll teach you. He’s a very stoic teacher, but he’ll make sure you don’t fall, he would hate to see you get hurt. He will let you ride his bike if you asks very nicely.

🚲 Sometimes he’ll cycle you home if he doesn’t have any tournaments or races. You can hop on behind and if you have school bag he’ll carry it for you. If you’re scared to go on the bike he doesn’t mind walking you home either. He’ll just walk with the bike in his hands.

🚲 He would probably like study dates a lot, it means he can spend time with you and do his studies. Maybe the two of you can help each other in different subjects and getting to know each other’s interests along with it.

🚲 ‘what would you do if you caught me eating bugs?’ ‘Why would you eat bugs?’ ‘I don’t know, but if i did. Would you break up with me?’ ‘Probably. I will not be with a bug muncher.’

🚲 If he’s staying over at your place, expect that he assumes its just a sleep over. It’s quite literally too. He’ll be in bed on time and sleeping. Even if he wants to be ‘rebellious’ it’s in his mind and soul that he sleeps on time and gets enough rest.

🚲 If he reads any good books he’ll recommend them to you so that he has someone to discuss the book with, especially if he has to read the book for school. That way he can prepare for the test and bond with you.

🚲 He would want you to get along with his friends. Minu and Dom aren’t super difficult to get along with and would probably tease Jay for having a girlfriend since he was so ‘uninterested’ in girls. Vinny wouldn’t really care and Yuna and Mia would get along with you very well , perhaps even make you their trio

🚲 if you’re a foreigner he’ll guide you trough some basic Korean things like the food, clothes, manners, language. Anything you want. In return he would like to know about your home country and culture as well. He likes the fact that the two of you are so different yet can like each for that same reason at the same time

🚲 Jay actually doesn’t talk a lot in general, so it also means he doesn’t talk much about himself. This means that most of the things he likes or dislikes can be noticed by his expression or body language. If you for example pick up that he’s uncomfortable and help him in the situation it will make him smile a bit out of graduate for you. He isn’t used to others picking up on his demeanor, especially since he’s considered a cold person

🚲 ‘jay! Are you available today?’ ‘Only until 7. Then i have to be home and study.’ ‘Didn’t you leave your mom’s house again?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Where will you stay.’ ‘With you.’ ‘Oh? Well we can invite Dom and Minu too! Maybe even Vinny. Do you think he’ll come?’ ‘If you have food then probably yes.’

That’s all yall (I’m still not finished reading)