banner by lilivanilla, pfp by my friend, pandawn !!! — 20 || i love fictional men so much. i also write stuff... ^o^ i'm a big fan of vn games and rpg w romances in it heheh
rises from the grave.... 🧟 kemasodmfekamadndbrainszlmbiewooosnwowjdnfkwkekekrmf [translation: hi guys sorry i disappeared to the face of earth. i'm going thru a worst case of burnout, so there won't be any writings soon... i will try to post kf tweets, texts, and seasonal mcs tho!! whenever i can. AND for those who had a request, i'm sorry you'll have to wait on them....as always, i would never want to give u guys half-hearted writings <//3]
"Home's just over yonder, you guys. Let's pick up the pace and get back for dinner!"
An answering cry rippled through the battalion as they followed their beloved captain over the hill.
[ ◉ ¯]
In every timeline, our president's the charismatic leader you've always known her to be 🫶. Happy Birthday, Reynah!
more lover boy jamie content bcoz he brainrots me (which is just me finding an excuse to share the one or two conversations I came up with relating to this new written fanfic :D)
MC: You folded fast.
Jamie: I didn't fold.
MC: You came right back down.
Jamie: You were holding my shirt.
MC: Barely.
Jamie: And yet here we are.
MC: Exactly, so I win!
Jamie: Keep talking, and I'll bite you again.
MC: ...
Jamie: ...
MC: ...Did you know that earlobes have no biological purpose? They have a lot of nerve endings and may play a role in social bonding, but many scientists argue that it's useless.
Jamie: Mhm. (BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITE)
MC: (right where they want to be)
HEY JEL!!!! It is me again and I hope you're doing OK!!
May i request a scenario with Jamie having cuteness aggression with his partner :3
Thank you Jel HAVE A NICE DAYYYYYYYYY *rapidly sliding down the hill on my office chair*
Hello youuuuu!! I'm doing okay, thank you so much. I hope you are too!! AND HAVE A NICE DAY AS WELL RAAAHHH BE SAFE WITH THAT OFFICE CHAIR!!!! <3333
Here is Jamie's version of cuteness aggression!! Very fondly annoyed, very subtle [not]. It was very interesting and fun to write - had me giggling and stuff mwehehe~
+++
The apartment had long since slipped into that particular kind of silence that only arrived after a day that had been too full, long in the way that sat in the muscles afterward. The television hummed low, all indistinct dialogue and washed-out light, and the city beyond the window still moved in dim little pulses. But the day itself had already ended. Whatever sharpness it had come in with had been worn down by evening, tired limbs, and the heaviness of being warm indoors with nowhere else left to be.
You had ended up half-curled against Jamie somewhere between “I’m not tired” and whatever came after the third blink that lasted too long. One of your legs had drifted over his without asking permission, your cheek pressed into the warm fold of his shoulder, your hand loose against his chest, and the two of you had settled into that boneless, thoughtless closeness that happened when comfort had already won, and there was no point pretending otherwise.
Jamie had a book open in one hand for a while. Or rather, he had one. At some point, the page had gone unturned long enough, his thumb stayed tucked in place out of habit, head tipped back against the couch, breathing slowly and even in a way that suggested he was not asleep just yet… He’s getting there, though.
You were worse off. You had crossed into that warm, drowsy state where your body still answered to your name, probably, but only out of politeness. The room felt far away, the television felt farther, and Jamie’s heartbeat, steady under your palm, had become the most persuasive thing in existence. It was almost lulling you into deeper sleep.
Then, after a while, he shifted. It was small, barely anything. Just the subtle movement of a body about to get up—the book finally closing, his shoulder moving under your cheek, his arm drawing back as if he meant to untangle himself carefully enough not to wake you. But it didn’t work, and you frowned without opening your eyes. His shirt caught under your fingers—a sleepy instinct, clumsy and immediate. You held it in a loose fist and made a soft, displeased sound in the back of your throat.
Jamie stilled, looking down at you.
Your face stayed tucked close to him, eyes barely open, lashes heavy, mouth still soft with sleep when you asked with a quiet, husky voice, “Where are you going?”
He should have answered normally—something short and dry, enough to free himself, to stand, and get the glass of water he no longer particularly cared about. Instead, what came out was, “...Nowhere apparently.”
That seemed to please you enough as your eyes drifted shut again. “Mm… Good.”
There it was again—that small, half-conscious sound, so unguarded it landed somewhere unreasonably deep… It was just a sleepy approval, quiet and warm and trusting, like of course he would stay if you asked… Except that wasn’t how it’d go normally.
He stared at your hand still bunched in his shirt. You were barely awake—that much was obvious. Your grip wasn’t strong enough to actually keep him there if he truly wanted to move. One tug and he could have freed the fabric, stood up, gotten his water, and come right back up, as if the movement had never existed. Under normal circumstances, he definitely would have. But something about the sight of you like this, the looseness of your body against his, the faint crease between your brows from having noticed his absence even half-asleep, the quiet certainty of staying without even needing to say much more than that… it hit him in a place he would rather not examine too closely.
“You’re very demanding for someone barely conscious.” He muttered.
“Stay anyway.” Your answer came softly.
That should not have worked on him as well as it did. Later, if he were forced to account for himself, Jamie would blame the hour. He would blame the long day, the low light, the fact that he was more tired than he liked to admit, and therefore not operating with his usual judgment. He would blame the warmth of the room, the television, the weight of your leg over his, the drowsiness making him slower and weaker and less immune to… nonsense. He would not, under any circumstances, admit that it was simply you.
But it was.
“As if I had a real choice.” He grumbled, but there was no real heat in it. A small, drowsy smile appeared on your face, making a vague little noise of satisfaction, and tugged weakly at his shirt—just to remain where he was, here, with you, because sleep had reached for comfort and found him first.
Jamie lay back down, one arm slid around your waist and pulled you in with a firmness that made your body go loose against him all over again, and the feeling of that—your immediate, unthinking softness, the way you yielded without resistance, the way your whole weight seemed to settle closer the second he gathered you in, made the fondness in him turn almost sharp with too much of it. He exhaled through his nose, and it was his turn to tuck his face into the curve where your neck met your shoulder. One of your arms came to wrap around his back, fingers splayed across the side of his jaw, while your hand loosened the hold you had on his shirt to slide down to his side. That, too, should have embarrassed him more for liking it too much.
He was not usually excessive. He was not, by nature, someone who really buried his face in his partner’s neck like proximity itself had become an itch he needed to soothe. But ever since you both began dating… his “normalcy” was changing a bit. And here he was. Completely smitten by a very sleepy you.
The first brush of his lips against your shoulder was almost done absentmindedly, but the next one, closer to your neck, was done with intent. Then a third, because the first two had not been enough. He couldn’t get enough of you.
Your fingers shifted slightly against his side, a slow drag, half a petting motion, half something your body had done on reflex. That, in turn, made Jamie’s arm tighten a bit more around your face. He could feel the shape of your ribs through your shirt, the soft rise and fall of your breathing, the warm line of your thigh over his… every small detail of your body seemed magnified by proximity until touching you stopped feeling like one sensation and started feeling like too many all at once.
You stirred with a faint hum, your lips brushing the side of his head when you moved. “Jamie…” There was a smile in your voice, and he heard it immediately.
“Don’t start.” He muttered, though he had already made the mistake of kissing the side of your neck, and then doing it again. It made you giggle, feeling a little ticklish.
He could feel your smile widen against him now. Not because he could see it—his face was still half-hidden against your skin, and perhaps that was part of why he stayed there. Looking at you directly seemed unwise—it’d just make things worse for him. It was easier to pretend he was only tired, only settling back in, only taking advantage of the nearest patch of warmth like any reasonable person might. His mouth found the slope of your shoulder again, and this time the kiss turned at the end into the lightest press of teeth—not enough to hurt, just enough to make you jolt a little and let out that breathy, surprised sound that turned into a huff of laughter into his hair.
“Did you just bite me?”
He nuzzled your neck. “You were being smug.”
“No, I’m not. I’m half-asleep.” You spoke teasingly.
He grumbled. “A likely story.” His response made you laugh softly.
His hand slipped under the hem of your shirt by then, palm warm against the bare curve of your side, thumb dragging once in a slow, thoughtless pass… simply feeling. Reassuring himself, perhaps. Indulging the urge to keep you close in every way available to him. His fingers hold you there as if he could press the warmth of you more firmly into memory by touch alone.
The truth of it, the part he would not say aloud, was that he felt absurdly fond of you at that moment. In a very specific, nearly unbearable kind of intimacy. Fond of the sleepy drag in your voice, of your touch, of the way you had all but ordered him to stay and then gone soft with satisfaction the second he did, of your laugh, of the way you fit under his arm as though his body had learned yours and no longer cared to pretend otherwise. It made him want to keep touching you until the feeling settled.
…And he had a feeling it wouldn't for a while.
Jamie looked up at you and saw how your face was still soft with drowsiness, your mouth parted slightly, your lashes casting those faint shadows against your skin. Entirely too trusting, too pleased, and too cute for his current level of exhaustion. He let out a sigh before settling to make himself comfortable. The two of you on the couch together had taken up a lot of space, but he didn’t want to move. He liked the closeness it offered to be able to lie down on the limited space the couch had offered.
“Do you want to move to the bed?” You asked.
Instantly, he answered. “No.”
You hummed. “You sure? It’ll be more comfortable. I figured you’d prefer that.”
That’s right. In normal circumstances, he would. Not right now, though. “Let’s just stay for a little while. We can move later.” He answered.
“Hah—alright. I’ll make myself comfortable, then.”
And you did by fully wrapping your arms around him, your lower limbs, and his, a tangled mess at this point. While Jamie shut his eyes, fully draping himself over you, like a very comfortable, albeit a little cold, blanket.
He stayed exactly where you had asked him to, even if you finally gave him an escape plan.
MC: I like this.
Jamie: This?
MC: You being close.
Jamie: I'm usually close.
MC: Not like this, though.
Jamie: ...Then I'll stay like this a little longer.
"How do I look away now that I have seen you?" a tianmie fic (while I work on writing requests)
+++
The study room had gone soft around the edges, showing how it was already late in the afternoon. The light outside was thinning from gold into something paler, as if the day were rubbing sleep from its own eyes. Their things had long since spread across the table in the shapeless way of students who had stopped pretending they were organized at least an hour ago—Deja's color-coded notes stacked with the same neatness despite the chaos around them. Cameron's notes and books are bristling with tabs like stressed-out porcupines. Percy's materials are splayed open beside a half-finished worksheet... by now is probably filled with doodles. Elio's notes are full of diagrams that looked beautiful and incomprehensible in equal measure, and, tucked among all of it, Tianshi's own little empire of efficiency—clean lines of handwriting and heavily annotated pages. Not a single wasted moment in sight, even in her mess—or there hadn't been, at least, until her body finally staged a mutiny.
She had gone down quietly. One moment, she had still been reading with that distant, unnerving focus of hers, brows drawn just enough to show she was deep in it, and the next, sometime in the slow drag of the hour, she had folded over her own arms and simply... stopped. Just a hard-working woman getting informed by her nervous system that, actually, no, she would be unconscious for a bit, thank you very much.
By the time Percy noticed, he made a face so comically offended on her behalf that Elio nearly laughed out loud before catching himself. Deja had only looked at Tianshi once and sighed the sigh of someone who had seen this exact sort of self-inflicted exhaustion coming from a mile away. Cameron, bless their heart, had begun carefully gathering the noisier wrappers from the table so nothing crackled and woke her.
"Let her sleep. Might be a sign that she's way too tired than she's saying she is." Deja spoke quietly.
Cameron nodded in agreement, "Yeah... she's been working so hard all week." They said, sounding a little concerned.
"Something about having no rest for the wicked?" Deja squinted her eyes, which made Cameron smile, a huff of laughter escaping them. "How dramatic of her." Percy commented with a smirk.
"Even she has her days." Deja answered, giving a smirk of her own.
Elio, lowering his voice to a whisper, had glanced between them and the door. "We should get snacks while she's out. And maybe coffee for when she wakes up?" They all agreed to this as they began to quietly stand up and fix their things. Jamie, who had been sitting a little apart from the worst academic wreckage with a novel open in front of him, looked up only when Cameron paused beside him.
"You coming?" they asked quietly. He glanced toward the table without meaning to—toward the sleeping Tianshi folded into her own arms, the spill of dark purple curls across her sleeve, and the sharp, elegant stillness of her even now, as if sleep itself had to arrange around her rather than the other way around. She looks like a portrait.
Then he looked back down at his book and said, with practiced calm, "No, thank you. I'll stay here."
"'Kay, you want anything?" It was Percy's turn to ask.
He gave a non-committed hum. "I'll have whatever you're having."
Percy nodded, giving Jamie one brief, knowing look, before making his way towards the door. Deja also had that same knowing look, while Cameron's mouth twitched with the effort not to smile. Elio simply followed right beside Percy. Then the four of them slipped out, closing the door behind them with a quiet click.
Jamie kept his eyes on the page for a respectable amount of time. He even read a sentence - possibly two - something about a storm, maybe, or a man arriving somewhere grim with a suitcase full of bad decisions. He couldn't have said. The words had flattened into black little marks without meaning, because beside him, just one chair away, Tianshi breathed in and out, and somehow that had become the loudest thing in the room. He tried not to look at her, because that would have been ridiculous. Embarrassing, even if no one was there to witness it. There was nothing to see but an overworked law student sleeping. He turned a page he had not absorbed, shifted in his chair, and let his gaze drag once toward the window, before reluctantly, inevitably, back to her.
Sleeping had taken the edge off her in the strangest way. Not softened, exactly, Tianshi did not become soft simply because she was sleeping, which felt like a law of nature. But it had unfastened something. The alertness she wore so well, the cool and composed precision of her face, had gone quiet. Her mouth was relaxed, lashes laid still against her cheeks, and her head had tilted to one side one of her arms, leaving her face open to the room in a way he was not used to seeing, the sight of it landed in him with such absurd force that he had to look down for a second, as though he'd been caught doing something.
It was stupid. He saw her all the time. From her deadpan jokes, to her clean, but pointed politeness to random students trying to get her number, or how she has her "affectionate" days—hugging Cameron, a hand wrapped around Deja's arm, patting Elio's head, pinching Percy's cheek... and well, she'd nudge him sometimes when they're messing around. She doesn't get close to him like she does with others... Not that he noticed or anything. Ahem. He had seen her in boots, in layers, in that monochrome wardrobe she made look less like fashion and more like a personal philosophy. He had seen her tired, irritated, unimpressed, happy, and amused despite herself. None of this is new.
And yet...
There was something almost... unfair about this. How it made every detail feel louder. The faint crease pressed into her cheek by her sleeve, the soft movement of breath at her shoulders, a curl slipping near her temples, glossy even in this miserable lighting, because apparently even her hair refused to have an off day. One of her beauty marks sat in plain view from this angle, and his gaze snagged there for a breath too long before he looked away, eyebrows furrowed. He wanted to bully his own eyes into behaving. Get it together, he thought, which was rich coming from someone currently being defeated by the sight of an oblivious Tianshi taking a nap.
He stared at the book a little harder, as though menace alone would force the print into coherence. It did not. It wasn't that simple after all.
At some point, with the particular kind of surrender that came only after losing an argument with himself in complete privacy, Jamie closed the book carefully and laid it flat on the table. The sound was small, and she didn't stir. Good. He looked at her for a moment longer, then, for no reason he could explain that wouldn't make him sound completely deranged, shifted forward in his chair. His forearms came down on the table, one over the other. Slowly, feeling faintly idiotic, he lowered his head to them and turned it to the side, mirroring her posture. From here, the world narrowed. And he only saw her.
The table between them no longer seemed all that wide. He could see the fine texture of her sleeve where her cheek rested against it, the silver glint of a ring, the loosened line of her fingers near the margin of an open book. One of her curls had fallen forward in a deep, ink-dark coil, touched with muted violet where the light found it. It made him think of expensive ribbon left in the dark. Of plum skin at midnight. Of things one wasn't meant to touch in museums. That thought annoyed him on principle. Still, he didn't move. He only watched her. The way one watched snowfall through a window, perhaps—something quiet and complete happening just beyond reach, something that asked for nothing and altered the whole landscape anyway. There was no performance in her now, none of the wit or detachment or contained amusement she wore so naturally.
Just Tianshi, a little vulnerable, and asleep because her body had dragged the plug from the wall. Just the human fact of her. And maybe that was what did it—how intimate exhaustion could be, how defenseless. How trust, even accidental trust, made a person luminous in a different register. His gaze drifted to her notes, to the margins packed with neat commentary, to the evidence of hours and hours spent pushing herself past the point where anyone sensible would have stopped. Something in his mouth went faintly bitter. He knows she does this... she would work until her body forced her into stillness like a felled thing. He understood where she's coming from, since he's an achiever himself, but what he never got was why it always seemed like she was trying to prove something. She's smart and talented as is. Why is she never satisfied with her skills? She had that particular kind of competence people admired too much and protected too little, as if being capable meant being inexhaustible. As if poise were the same thing as invulnerability.
Jamie thought of everyone's reaction to it, how they all understood the shape of this tenderness and knew better than to bruise it. That softened something in him he did not care to inspect too closely. It would have been easy, once, to keep Tianshi under interesting or fun to talk to when she's in one of her moods and willing to indulge me as I do her. It would have been easier still to leave her there.
Instead, here he was, side of his head on his arms, staring at her like a man who had misplaced something important and only just realized she's been holding it for... a while now.
The revelation arrived slowly, pieced together from little truths that had apparently been conspiring behind his back. The fact that his eyes first sought her in a room, that sincere words spoken to him lived in his head for days afterward, turning over and over until he smiled at them alone. The fact that he had begun recognizing the difference between her unimpressed silences and her comfortable ones. The fact that, even now, with no conversations to spar through, he could have kept reading and did not—because he wanted to look at her. And looking at her had become its own kind of quiet.
Somewhere along the line, without his permission, she had grown prettier in that ruinous way people did when affection got involved—when your mind started attaching meaning to details it once would have passed over, turning lips into a problem, a glance into weather, a beauty mark into something your gaze returned to with embarrassing regularity.
He exhaled softly through his nose, not quite a sigh, closer to the sound of him realizing the floor beneath him had been sloping for some time. "...This is annoying." He murmured to no one.
Tianshi remained asleep, and that made his mouth twitch. There was something almost laughable about the fact that this silence, this study room, this table filled with everyone's work, and her sleeping like she'd been switched off mid-thought, felt more intimate than things far grander ever could. No spectacle to it. No romance in the obvious sense. Just Jamie lying on his arms to look at her better, as if proximity could be borrowed in inches. As if he could study this feeling the way she studied everything else—closely, patiently, without saying a word until he understood its architecture.
At one point, his own eyes began to close, but then he felt her shift.
It was a slight movement and a change in breath, but it struck through him with ridiculous immediacy. One hand flexed near her notes, her head turned a fraction more toward him, and a curl slipped further across her brow. Jamie went still as stone... but she did not wake. Her breathing evened again, slow and quiet. He held himself there for a second longer before, with rare care, he reached across the table. Not to touch her, just to catch the loose pen resting too near the edge of her elbow and move it aside before it could leave a mark on her sleeve or roll off the table altogether. Then he drew back.
When the door finally opened again, and the others spilled in with cold drinks, hot coffee for Tianshi, and snacks, Jamie was once more sitting upright in his chair with his novel in hand, one leg crossed over the other, looking like he had spent the entire time doing exactly what he had been doing.
Deja sat beside Tianshi, rubbing a gentle hand on her shoulder to wake her up. "Hey, sleeping beauty. Wake up before this turns into a three-hour nap." That made Cameron snicker, sitting beside Tianshi's other side, their cheek resting on their palm. She shifted—it was slow, almost like climbing out of deep water. She inhaled, a deeper breath this time, and her head lifted from her arms with the quiet reluctance of someone whose body had very strong opinions about staying asleep... or having proper rest.
"You seriously fell asleep this time, Tee." Cameron said, twirling one of Tianshi's curls on their finger. She cleared her throat to say, "Shit." That made both Percy and Elio laugh. Also, for a small smile to appear on Jamie's face.
It was the smile of a man all too aware that this had gone far enough to become a problem. A quiet one, for now. Still a problem... but at least it was a very pretty one.
WOOOOOOOOOOOH LET'S GO PBSJ!!!!! RAAAAAHHHH a winter mc suddenly surrounded by lovely fall mcs.... tianshi sure is living the life.. LOVE THAT FOR HERRRRR ><
"And I think... you're... done!"
Cameron cupped the metal bird, a ticking thrum steady under their thumbs as the machine flew to life. It circled the workshop, pulling a delighted noise from its maker, before fluttering delicately upon their open palm.
"Welcome to the world, lil' guy!"
[ ◉ ¯]
Happy birthday, Cameron!
Creative as ever, they like to make metal companions in between all the equipment and weaponry they're asked for. Their workshop is quite the mess, but a friendly one if one ever happens to visit. ^^
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA happy birthday to my glorious amazing magnificent good looking super funny super hot super cool supper aWESOME cameron molinares!!! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH OMG
How would Jamie react if you got harassed (or something) by someone who likes him bc you’re dating him
Okkkkkkkkk, thank you!
Have a wonderful day!
:)
HELLO, HI... this ask has been in my inbox for ages, and I'M SORRY <//3 i just didn't know how to write it, jamie has tendencies to play w me like this (we all know bro is hard to write and I wanted it to be as accurate as possible), so yes! BUT I HAD A REVELATION WITH THE HELP OF FRIENDS, SHOUTOUT TO FLAPMEMELORD AND LILIVANILLA >< much love to u guys!!!
+++
After changing your mind twice when asked what you wanted to eat and your boyfriend giving you a long look over it, which made you laugh, Jamie said he'd be back in a minute—after one brief squeeze of your hand and letting go, he disappeared into the queue with the particular ease of someone who could blend into a crowd whenever he wanted despite being, quite frankly, tall for it.
You watched him for half a second longer, then turned back toward the event, adjusting your position to the side of the walkway so you wouldn't get bulldozed by a pack of students sprinting toward one of the game booths.
That was when they approached. You almost didn't notice them, until they purposely made themselves known to you—by standing right in front of you. You instinctively took a step back, just in case you were on the way, but unfortunately for you, they're right where they wanted to be. Their smiles came already arranged, and it did not look kind at all. More so, just socially acceptable enough to delay accusation.
"Hey! I love your outfit," one of them said, the word sugar-coated so heavily it nearly collapsed under its own falseness. But before you could even so breathe, they spoke again. "You're with Jamie Porter, right?"
Ah, shit.
You looked at her warily as you wondered your eyes around the three of them. "...If you mean we came here together in the event, then yes." You chose the safe answer because you're not feeling good about this.
A little laugh went through them, thin and shared. "Hah. No need to be coy. As in, are you dating him?"
There were a dozen ways to answer that question, and none of them felt useful. You settled on the simplest. "Well, yes. Why?"
Something flickered across their faces, not surprise, because they'd clearly approached already knowing. "Right, we thought so. We saw you holding hands with him earlier."
"It's crowded," you simply said. "Easier not to lose at each other."
"Mm. Guess that's one way to look at it."
You gave a small nod and watched as the other two exchanged one of those tiny, loaded glances that just further let you know the shape of this whole interaction. You're already dreading it and should probably have walked away right then... but there was a specific kind of social unpleasantness that relied on you leaving too quickly, on your discomfort becoming evidence against you somehow. So you stayed for a second longer, neutral enough to be polite, distant enough to make it clear you weren't inviting whatever this was.
The person standing on the left spoke up. "Soo... what's that like?"
"What's what like?" You asked in return.
"Dating Jamie Porter, of course! I mean, everyone knows him. I didn't believe it then, but I guess he really will date anyone." The line was tossed in lightly, like an afterthought. Like it belonged in the category of things people were meant to pretend they hadn't heard properly.
But you heard it loud and clear.
"Excuse me?"
They smiled too quickly. "Oh, no offense!" Which, naturally, meant offense had already unpacked and made itself comfortable. "It's just... a little weird. I mean, he's already been really selective about people. And suddenly he's dating you." They let their eyes move over you in one of those head-to-toe glances that was less observation than attempted humiliation. "So, we're just curious, really."
You could already feel your patience beginning to go thin around the edges, but you needed to keep your cool. You're not going to give them the satisfaction of whatever it is they're trying to do.
"It's normal." You said. And that answer seemed to disappoint them. Good. "Normal, huh? Wow." She said the word "normal" as if it were somehow insulting. One of the others laughed softly into their cup.
You let the silence do some work. That should've been enough, because normally, people with social sense hear the deadness in a conversation and step back from it before dignity becomes impossible to recover.
Unable to help themself, the one in the middle asked a question that made you take aback. "Not to be rude... what does he even see in you?"
Well, they're certainly not trying to be subtle anymore. The thing itself was dragged ugly and whole into the open, where everyone could pretend to be shocked later if they got called on it. For one second, all you felt was disbelief. Then the sting arrived. Not because you believed them, but because offense like this always carried a little shock with it, no matter how secure you were, no matter how loved, no matter how ridiculous the source. It was one thing to know people whispered, another thing entirely to have a stranger stand in front of you under festival lights and act like your relationship had somehow become one of the booths here for them to review.
You held their gaze—long enough to make one of them look away first. You couldn't help the mild satisfaction from that. You shrugged and calmly answered, "That sounds like a question for Jamie."
And still, they didn't stop. "No, because I genuinely don't get it. He could do way better."
You hummed. "I don't think you know him enough to say that."
"And you do?"
The question was stupid enough to be insulting. "Considering that we were friends before dating? Yes."
That made one scoff, another to click their tongue, and if you weren't mistaken, an eye twitch. You nearly laughed at the absurdity of it. You hated it, though. The way they said he could have anyone, as if Jamie was an award horse and not a person with taste, preferences, and the deeply inconvenient habit of choosing for himself.
"If that's all, I'll be taking my leave." You began to turn to leave when one of them caught your arm—held hard enough to stop you. The touch was wrong on contact. Wrong in intention, in entitlement, in the simple fact of someone deciding they were allowed to put a hand on you because they didn't like what you said.
You looked down at the hand on your arm, then up to their face. "Let go of me." You still try to sound calm, to not cause a scene and be a public disturbance, but they're really trying to push you into the edge.
"I will if you don't walk away. No need to be defensive, we're just trying to talk!" They said, which made you let out a sigh. They couldn't be serious...
"What gives you the right—ugh, just let go already!"
And then Jamie's voice, from just behind them, cut through the noise with such clean precision that the entire little cluster went still before they even turned around. "You heard them. Take your hand off."
Even you were a little shocked to see him, given the fact that these three had taken your whole attention.
Just like that, the hand fell away at once.
Jamie stepped into view, holding the paper tray of food in one hand, and for one surreal second the image was almost funny—him arriving with lunch in one hand and absolute contempt in the other. You had seen him annoyed, seen him snap, and be cold. But this was a little different, you supposed. This was Jamie stripped of the nice layer he wore for the general public. Not uncontrolled, just entirely finished with pretending there was a more innocent version of this interaction than the one he had walked in on.
His gaze flicked once to your face, then your arm, then back to them. He didn't look confused at all. He had already read enough of the room to know exactly what had happened.
One of them recovered first. "J-Jamie! We were just—"
A cold stare from him made them eat their own words. The one who had touched you laughed weakly, already sounding unlike themself now that the fantasy had been forced to meet the real person. "We didn't mean anything by it."
He looked at them next. Then he said, very calmly, "By it, you mean putting your hands on MC because they tried to walk away from you?"
Their face changed, a flash of embarrassment, then defensiveness. "That's not what happened at all."
Do they take him for a fool?
He raised his chin. "You're right. What happened was worse. You felt entitled enough to stop them."
The one who had said less but smirked plenty, folded their arms. "We were just asking about your relationship..."
"I don't know what gave you the impression that you were important enough to involve yourselves in my relationship." He said without a stutter. "If you're confused why I'm in one, I'd suggest you sit with that privately and not harass someone. It has nothing to do with you."
Silence.
Not totally. The festival still existed around you. Music somewhere in the background, people passing, laughter from another tent. But inside the radius of this moment, there was just silence.
One of them opened their mouth, but nothing came out. It really landed on them, with the kind of humiliation that doesn't explode, only sinks inward at once, leaving the face scrambling to catch up. They had expected Jamie—the projection, the campus boyfriend, the elegant idea they could orbit and feel meaningfully connected to. What they got was Jamie as he actually was.
Jamie reached for your hand then. "Come on." He said, already leading you away through the crowd with the kind of contained, sour silence that told you this was far from over inside him. The farther you got from the little group, the colder his mood became. People moved around you in cheerful blurs as you kept your eyes on him. A little concerned about him more than anything.
You let him guide you until the noise thinned—past the booths, past the densest of the crowd. Around the side of the buildings, where the event lights still reached, but bodies didn't. There was a bench there and, more importantly, privacy.
He turned to face you, thumb rubbing the side of your hand absentmindedly, as if to comfort you. "Are you alright?" He asked.
You let out a breath you hadn't fully realized you were holding, before giving him a small smile of reassurance. "I am, yeah. Thanks for that... what about you?"
His eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Me? I don't know why you're asking, but I'm fine." He said. You gave him a knowing look, which made him sigh, averting his gaze from you for a second. "...You don't have to thank me for that. I'm annoyed that I had to do that at all. Aren't you?"
"I am... was. Sometimes it just can't be helped. You're quite well-known around here after all." You answered, shrugging lightheartedly. Then you smirk at him, raising your eyebrow up and down. "Should've seen me beforehand. I think I handled it pretty well."
He looked at you, lips slightly pursed. He knew you were trying to lift his mood, to keep whatever had happened there from ruining your time together. And you're right, so he shook it off. Literally. By shaking his head lightly, as if to rid himself of the sour mood.
"I've no doubt it. You bring yourself well no matter what." He then said, finally returning a smile to you.
That made you smile a little more sweetly at him, leaning to nudge your shoulder against his, which made him chuckle. "Think of me a lot, don't you?" You teased.
He hummed. "Mm... perhaps."
You grin. "Great. Now, enough of that! I'm starving. Let's eat this."
"Let's." He nodded.
And so, you both sat on the bench, fell into light conversation, and enjoyed your food in each other's company...
IT'S DONE🥰🎉 I had so much fun drawing this, though there were some frustrating parts. Overall, it was an amazing learning experience for me. I hope to draw more fun things in the future!!💖💖🎉
Thanks to everyone who gave me some advice, it really helped😭💖 If you think there are some things I need to improve on, and or mistakes that you noticed, please don't be shy to comment them, all critiques or advice are welcome😛
mf js posted an 8 minute "speedpaint" u'll have to excuse him, he's not used to posting stuff HKAJSKSNEKSNSKW but ayeeeee, NICE ART LIL BRO!!!! I'd eaT IT OMNOMNOMNOM
UPDATE🙃🙃 I'm done coloring in the face, and I had so so much fun doing it, it was easier than I expected😮 THE HAIR IS SO FREAKING HARD TO COLOR OMGFG, I do not get how I should be doing it whatsoever, and it's extremely frustrating me🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄 do y'all have any tips on how I should be doing it? Any tips are greatly appreciated😩🙏