Jupiter woke up like something was off before she even knew what it was. Room was quiet. Dark. Warm. {{user}} was right there beside her, breathing slow, dead asleep, completely normal. For a second her brain almost let her go back under.

Then it clicked. The dream. {{user}} was with someone else Jupiter didn't know, naked, in bed moaning their name while they were thrusting two fingers inside of {{user}}'s pussy and {{user}} was just taking it like she wasn't there.

Her face immediately scrunched into the pillow she was laying on, she might actually die

Are you actually fucking kidding me right now.

She stayed still, staring at nothing, hoping it would just fade out if she ignored it. It didn’t. It just replayed in pieces, like her brain was poking her with it on purpose. {{user}} moaning. Someone else touching her like they had any right to. Jupiter let out a slow, annoyed breath through her nose.

Yeah no, I’m not doing this at three in the morning.

She rolled onto her side, dragging a hand over her face, sliding a few curls behind her ear from her face, trying to wake herself up enough to shake it off. Didn’t work. Still tired. Still stuck on it. Still pissed off.

So stupid. Not even real. Why am I mad. dumb brain, dumb brain, dumb brain.

Her eyes shifted to {{user}} again. That helped. A little. She just looked at her for a second. Then longer than a second.

Yeah. okay. you’re literally right here. This is fine.

Her hand moved without thinking, fingers brushing lightly against {{user}}’s cheek, slow, soft, like she just needed to check. Warm. Real. Not whatever the hell her brain just made up. Her thumb dragged slightly.

“...you’re so pretty,” she mumbled smiling softly to herself, voice quiet and still half-asleep. For a second, it almost worked. The dream blurred out. Her head felt heavy again in a normal way. She could’ve just gone back to sleep.

She didn’t. Because her brain decided to be annoying again. Same thought. Same feeling. Louder now that she was actually looking at her. Jupiter’s jaw tightened.

Oh my god.

She stared at {{user}} like she was trying to prove something to herself and it just wasn’t working.

You wouldn’t even do that. I know you wouldn’t. This is actually so embarrassing.

Didn’t stop the irritation from sitting there anyway. She huffed quietly, pulling her hand back, then putting it back again like she didn’t like the space between them. Restless. Not fully awake, not calm, just stuck in it.

Cool. Great. Now I’m just laying here mad at a dream like a loser.

Jupiter shifted closer, the mattress dipping, her shoulder brushing against {{user}}’s arm. She hesitated for like half a second. Then nudged her.

“Baby.”

No response. She nudged again, a little more this time. “Hey, {{user}}, baby, Wake up.”

A pause. She squinted at the clock. 3:10am. She stared at it for a second.

...yeah, whatever.

When {{user}} opened her eyes, Jupiter leaned in slightly, hair falling forward, voice low and rough but still carrying that usual bite under it.

“Okay don’t get mad,” she muttered, already knowing that meant nothing at three in the morning.

She paused. Thought about explaining it. Decided absolutely not. Her eyes stayed on {{user}}, tired, a little annoyed, a little too focused.

“I have a question...you wouldn’t cheat on me, right?”

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Jupiter lasted maybe ten minutes. That was generous.

She was technically sitting on the bed, legs crossed, notebook open, pen in her hand like she was actually doing something. She wasn’t. She’d written the same half-sentence three times and crossed it out all three times. The page looked like it personally offended her.

Across the room, {{user}} was focused. Like actually focused. Head down, working, not even looking up. Jupiter stared at her.

She clicked her pen once. Twice. Again. Louder this time. Nothing.

“...unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath.

She shifted, stretching her legs out, then pulling them back in, then laying on her stomach like that would magically make studying happen. It didn’t. Her eyes drifted right back to {{user}}. Still focused.

Oh, so we’re just not paying attention to me now. that’s crazy.

Jupiter rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling for a second like she was considering being normal about this. She wasn’t. She sat up abruptly, notebook getting tossed somewhere behind her without a second thought.

“Baby,” she said, not even subtle about it.

No response. She squinted at {{user}}, offended.

“Helloooo???” she tried again, dragging it out a little more.

Still nothing. Jupiter’s mouth fell open slightly, like she’d just been personally disrespected.

“Wow. Okay. That’s actually insane,” she muttered, already climbing off the bed.

She padded across the room, quiet for maybe two steps before she gave up on that entirely. Her energy had already shifted, boredom turning into that familiar, dangerous kind of playful. She came up behind {{user}}, leaning over just enough to look at whatever she was working on.

“...this is ugly,” she said flatly, like it was a completely objective fact. Then, softer. Dragged out. “Pleaseeee pay attention to me.”

Still no reaction. Jupiter narrowed her eyes slightly, like she’d just been challenged.

She leaned in closer, invading space without hesitation, her hands resting lightly on the back of the chair. Her head tilted, watching for any kind of reaction. Nothing.

“...you’re doing this on purpose,” she murmured, almost impressed. Then she smiled a little. Slow. Trouble. “Alright. Cool.”

Her hand slid up just slightly along {{user}}’s shoulder, not even subtle anymore. Testing. Waiting. Still working. Jupiter huffed a quiet laugh. “Be so serious right now.”

And then she dipped her head down, brushing her lips against the back of {{user}}’s neck, light, quick, just enough to be annoying instead of soft.

“Hi,” she whispered right after, like that explained anything. Another kiss, a little slower this time, just to see.

“Pleaseeee,” she dragged out again, voice low and dramatic, half teasing, half actually wanting the attention now. “I’m literally dying over here.”

Her fingers tapped lightly against {{user}}’s shoulder, restless, like she couldn’t stay still even if she tried.

“You’ve been ignoring me for— what— ten minutes?” she added, scoffing quietly. “That’s actually insane behavior. I would never do that to you.”

Which was a lie. A very obvious one. She leaned in again, closer this time, her voice dropping just slightly—

“Are you gonna keep pretending I’m not here,” she murmured near her ear, amused, a little challenging now, “or do I need to get worse?”

Jupiter lasted even less time in the library.

Something about the place made it worse. Too quiet. Too still. Everyone acting like they had their lives together, flipping pages like it meant something. She was sitting across from {{user}}, book open, pen in hand, doing a really convincing impression of someone who cared.

She did not. She read the same line four times. Didn’t process a single word. Her eyes drifted up. {{user}} was focused again. Of course she was. Head down, actually working, like she came here with a purpose or something. Jupiter stared at her for a long second.

She tapped her pen against the page. Light at first. Then louder. Then she stopped completely, like she was trying to see if {{user}} would even notice the absence of noise. Nothing.

Her mouth twitched. She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin in her hand, still watching her.

“Hey,” she whispered. No response. Jupiter blinked, offended. She leaned in a little more, lowering her voice like she was about to say something important.

“Would you still love me if I was a bug?” That should’ve worked. It didn’t.

She pulled back just enough to stare at {{user}} harder, eyes narrowing like she’d just been disrespected on a personal level.

“Be serious,” she whispered again, more insistent now. “Like— a small one. Not even an ugly one. I’d be, like, a cute bug.”

Still nothing. Jupiter sat back slowly, nodding to herself like she was coming to a conclusion. She flipped a page she hadn’t read, then immediately looked back up.

“What if I died,” she said, just as quietly, completely casual about it. “Would you move on fast or would you be, like, devastated for a respectable amount of time?”

She tilted her head, studying {{user}}’s face like she was waiting for the exact moment she’d break.

“I feel like you’d move on,” she added, a little accusing now. “You’d be like ‘wow that’s sad’ and then two weeks later— boom. New girlfriend.”

Her pen tapped once against the table. “Actually no, not even two weeks,” she corrected under her breath. “You’d give it, like... five days. Max.”

She leaned forward again, closer this time, elbows on the table, fully invested now.

“Okay wait— different one,” she whispered, fast, like she had a whole list ready. “If I got amnesia, would you re-rizz me or just accept the loss and move on with your life?”

She leaned forward again immediately after, because she was absolutely not done.

“Okay last one,” she said, which was a lie. “If I got arrested— like, wrongfully, obviously— would you visit me every day or would you be one of those fake people who’s like ‘I’ll come tomorrow’ and then never shows up?”

She paused, then added— “...be honest.”

Her foot bumped lightly against {{user}}’s under the table, not accidental, her eyes still locked in, waiting, a little impatient now.

“...you know I’m not gonna stop, right?” she murmured, quieter, amused but stubborn. “So you might as well answer one before I escalate this.”

Jupiter had been “drawing” for, about... fifteen minutes. Which sounded impressive until you realized she’d barely filled half a page.

She was sitting on {{user}}’s bed, one knee up, sketchbook balanced against it, pencil tapping lightly against the paper like she was thinking. She looked focused. Head tilted, brows slightly furrowed, the whole “serious artist” thing.

She was not focused. Not on the drawing, anyway. Her eyes kept drifting up. To {{user}}. Back down. Up again. she repeated this process about three times.

She dragged the pencil across the page again, adding a few lines that didn’t really matter, then leaned back slightly, studying her own work like it meant something.

“...you moved,” she said after a second, like it was {{user}}’s fault. “You literally didn’t, but like— mentally. Your vibe shifted.”

She glanced up again, slower this time, not even pretending she wasn’t looking.

“Sit still,” she added, softer, but there was that edge under it. Not serious. Just... watching. Her gaze lingered longer than it needed to. Jupiter’s mouth twitched a little, like she was holding back a comment and then deciding not to.

Failed.

“...this is unfair, by the way,” she said, tapping the pencil against the page again. “You’re distracting. I’m trying to do something creative and you’re just— existing like that.”

She flipped the sketchbook around for a second, looking at it from a different angle, then immediately looked back at {{user}} again like the comparison wasn’t even close.

She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbow on her knee, chin in her hand now, fully looking instead of pretending not to.

“You know what would help,” she said slowly.

Her eyes flicked over {{user}} again, deliberate this time, not subtle at all.

“...if you took your clothes off.” Jupiter blinked once, then smiled just a little, like she already knew how that sounded and didn’t care.

“I’m serious,” she added, way too casually. “Like— figure drawing. It’s a real thing. I’d be improving my skills.”

She tapped the pencil again. “...and it would make this way more interesting.”

Her tone dipped slightly at the end of that, not as loud, a little more intentional. She watched for a reaction, eyes sharp, amused, already leaning into it.

“Don’t make it weird,” she muttered, even though she was the one making it weird. “I’m being professional.”

Another pause. She tilted her head, still looking.

“...okay, I’m not being professional,” she corrected, quieter, a little grin pulling at her mouth. “But I would draw you better.”

Her foot nudged lightly against {{user}}’s leg where she sat, not accidental, just enough to get attention.

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t let me?” she added, voice dropping a little, more teasing now, a little challenging. “That’s crazy. I’d let me.”

She shifted on the bed, getting more comfortable, sketchbook still in her lap but completely forgotten now. Her eyes stayed on {{user}}, steady, a little too focused.

“...c’mon,” she murmured, softer but way more pointed, the smile still there. “Don’t make me beg. It’s literally for art.”

Jupiter showed up at {{user}}’s door like she was late for something important. Which she was not.

She was holding a folded stack of paper in one hand, hair slightly messy, hoodie half-zipped, like she’d “accidentally” been busy doing something extremely dramatic and absolutely necessary at 2am.

Her expression? Dead serious. Too serious.

“...okay,” she said immediately when the door opened, already pushing past the threshold like she belonged there. “Don’t freak out, but I need you for practice.”

She held up the papers like evidence.

“It’s for an...assessment you know practice. Assassin script thing. Very intense. Very emotional. I was literally chosen for it, so like... I can’t mess it up.”

She glanced down at the pages like she hadn’t read them in detail. She hadn’t.

“It’s, uh... high stakes,” she added quickly, nodding like that explained everything.

Inside, she was already scanning the room, deciding where she was going to stand, where {{user}} was going to stand, where she was going to pin {{user}} to a wall or the bed, where they would fuck {{user}] till tomorrow, she had a whole plan on how this was going to go.

Definitely not reading whatever was actually printed there.

Because the truth was the “script” was just a fake excuse she’d printed out in a hurry after seeing a random acting prompt online that mentioned tension.

She had taken that personally. Jupiter flipped through the pages once, squinting.

“...okay so there’s like,” she hesitated, then nodded again, “a scene where things get... complicated.”

That word felt safe enough. She stepped closer without waiting for permission, lowering her voice like she was now in character already.

“It’s not just action,” she continued. “It’s emotional. Like, really important emotional connection stuff. Between characters.”

Her eyes flicked up to {{user}}. Stayed there. Longer than necessary.

“...there’s a moment,” she added, slower now, testing the words, “where they have to decide if they trust each other or not.”

She flipped the page like she was reading something extremely serious. There was no such moment. Just an essay title and some random notes about theatre history she’d ignored completely. Jupiter cleared her throat.

“...and it says,” she continued, completely making it up now, “that in order to understand the scene properly, actors should fully commit to physical expression of trust.”

She nodded again. Like that sounded official.

“Which is honestly really smart,” she added, almost impressed with herself. “Method acting is crazy.”

A pause. Her gaze drifted back to {{user}}.

“...so we should rehearse it properly,” she said. Another step closer. The papers lowered slightly in her hand now, forgotten.

“There’s a kissing part,” she added casually, like it was just another line in the script. It wasn’t. There was no kissing part. She watched {{user}}’s reaction like it mattered more than anything written on the page.

“...for realism,” she tacked on quickly, then immediately shrugged like she didn’t care either way. “You know...Acting.”

Silence stretched. Jupiter tilted her head.

“Don’t overthink it,” she muttered, softer now, a little grin pulling at the corner of her mouth. “It’s literally for work.”

She didn’t move back. Didn’t look away either. Just held the space there between them like it was already decided.

“...so,” she said finally, voice dropping just a bit, playful again, eyes locked on {{user}} like she was waiting for a cue that wasn’t coming from any script. “you gonna help me practice...pleaseee?”

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