#yes i do want to include childe in everything

[darthannie]

By Way of Louisiana

Remmick x f!OC (mixed oc!!!!!)

word count: 4,019 tags & warnings: (JUST IN CASE) (JUST IN FUCKING CASE) DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Dark fic!!!, mention of a dead loved one, grief, discussion of pregnancy/infertility, mention of infidelity, dubcon due to extenuating circumstances, inappropriate use of a cemetery, blood, lots of blood, choking, spit, p in v sex, death, but also living eternally a/n (plz read if you can xoxo): I really (x3) wanted to practice writing in first person instead of second person so this is a product of that want. I don't know if this is going to have a second part. I kind of like it as a stand alone, but I do have a half written part 2 that's banter and smut written in Remmick's pov. This was VERY fun to write. I would LOVE to explore his character more. Also, my blog is a space is where I go to explore the parts of me I can't explore in real life. And, that includes a hot southern/irish vampire with very sharp teeth, glowing eyes, and razor like nails. Sorry! Sue me!! Send me to the rack!!! Don't care, argue with the wall. Morally corrupt vampire I need you apologies to the ancestors.

The rich, black fabric that hung on my body felt exceptionally heavy. I entered my quiet home and laid back against the wooden door. My shakey breath rang through the room as the tears welled up and up and up, before finally spilling over, blurring the reminance of my late husband that was strewn around. His favorite hat hung by the door along with the coat he wore when it got too cool at night. I dragged my feet to my bedroom. His handkerchief laid on his bedside table along with a book he never got to finish reading. 

This new life I had to undertake was not one I was ready for; one did not prepare for widowship as they prepared for motherhood. Me and Charlie wanted to start trying for a baby. We had no luck, but perhaps that was for the best. Maybe it was why he started becoming distant. I did not want to bring life into this world alone. I wanted to do it with Charlie. We had met years ago when he had just started practicing law at Louisiana’s top law film, making more money than my family had ever seen. Charlie gave me everything. The home I sat in, the food in the kitchen, the clothes on my body. It was all because of him. My closet was full of pieces he bought, insisting I looked the best in clothing he bought me. “Come on, what’s one more dress for my pretty girl?” He’d seal the sentiment with a kiss. Oh, how I’d miss his kisses. His lips felt like they were made for me. 

Sitting on his side of the bed felt wrong. I grabbed the hankerchief off the bedside and fiddled with it in my hands, snaking it between my fingers. I chuckled as I dried my tears with it, remembering a silly moment where he’d spilled a glass of milk on himself one morning because the glass was too slippery. I laughed again, remembering how we danced on our wedding night. Our limbs moved in dissonance with each other as we danced. There were moments, beautiful moments, where our movements finally matched. A humourless chuckle followed as I remembered his lips on my body later that night when we were finally alone.

My only wish was that he not treat me like glass, but he did. He always did. Whenever we had sex, the sole purpose was to have a child. Tender, yes, but boring all the same. I wanted him to bring me to the same conlusion I always brought myself to, but he thought it better to focus on brining an heir into the world. Part of me resented him for it. The rest of me wanted to peel my skin off in shame for ever questioning his treatment of me, especially when he had given me everything. 

I looked down at my black dress, grappling with the impulse to take it off and pretend like this was not happening. I didn’t like this lonely feeling. This emptiness was familiar, but it wasn’t welcome. I sat frozen, evaluating myself in the mirror that stood in the corner of the room. My face no longer felt hot, my eyes slightly red from their agitation. I sucked in a deep breath and watched as the air filled my body. I felt it fill up my belly, reach around my ribs, and rope it’s way up my back. My exhale helped me send enough signals from my brain to my muscles to start moving again. I walked out the room and paced down the stairs, wrapping my shall around me in the process.

There was no need for anything heavier in this weather. The warmth left over by the setting sun wrapped me up and guided me down the path, helping me haul my legs towards the cemetary where my husband lay. I stood at the closed gates. “Go home,” it said. “You saw him today, no need to torture yourself further,” it continued. But, I could not listen to the closed gates plea. I pushed passed the it, not bothering to close it behind me, and hedged forth. 

I quickly became aware of an oppressive weight that I was not meant bare. The heaft of death followed me everywhere. It would not leave me and time has proven that I could not escape it. I wondered when it would be my turn, when death would finally end up at my doorstep and take me away from this excuse of a life. I held my breath and released it when I could no longer restrict my lamentation. I moved quickly, gaining speed as I careened left and right. My cries and tears unfurled over unexpected raised stones and exposed roots. My shoulders began to lead me. My arms extented out towards his headstone before it was even in reach. I fell into it and wrapped my arms around it, letting gravity take my knees to the ground. 

The stone was cold to the touch, no longer warmed by the afternoon sun. My cries contined as the moon hung itself high. I laid my forehead against the headstone and kissed it. “Please come back to me. Please, for the love of God, come back to me.” No answer. I shut my eyes kissed the stone again. “You said you’d stay. You said you wouldn’t leave me,” I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled with a groan, “and you can’t. You just can’t! I can’t be alone again!” My cries got quieter and quieter until I silenced. The graveyard surrounding me was completely empty. The sky was so wide it seemed like it could swallow me whole. The stars above me didn’t twinkle or dance in the sky. They stood still, observing my grief. I let go of the stone and laid against it, resting my eyes. My shall hung off one shoulder and I didn’t bother to tug it back on. Eyes shut, I sniffed and did all I could think to do. 

I wiped my nose and began singing the words I had sang since I was a kid. 

“Will the circle be unbroken by and by, lord, by and by? Is a better home awaiting in the sky, lord, in the sky?

My eyes flew open wide when a sweet voice and a banjo that were not mine joined in. 

“There are loved ones in the glory Whose dear forms you often miss, When you close your earthly story Will you join them in their bliss?”

My eyes slid up his body and I realized I should be level with him if I wanted to seem any kind of intimidating. I marionetted myself upright before he finished singing. I was unarmed, a silly mistake. I could throw a punch but that was about it. When he finished the verse, he laid the banjo on the ground and held his hands in front of him. “I’m not here to hurt you. I just heard some hootin’ and hollerin’ and saw the cemetery gate was open. Decided to investigate.” I stepped behind the stone, expecting it to offer me protection. The man read the headstone and saw the dates etched into it. “I’m sorry for your loss. I’ve lost a lot of people too,” he relaxed his arms next to him. You avoided his question to proceed with your own interrogation, “What are you doing here? It’s late,” I stammered, “and the cemetery is closed.”

“I could ask you the same question.” He chuckled. I was unsettled by his levity, feeling so very dark as I stood behind my dead husband’s tomb. His face was sad when he spoke again, “Sometimes I feel a bit like a ghost myself.” I cocked my head to the side, “Why?” He ignored me. I changed the subject. “When did you learn to play.

He whistled, “Ooo, a while back. I met a man who played and taught myself.” 

“The man didn’t teach you?”

“He didn’t need to.”

“Hm.”

I got a better look of him in the moonlight. His dark eyes caught the light and made them shimmer in an unnatural way. Odd. His hair was short, but laid shaggy on his forehead. The ends at the nape of his neck started to curl upwards. I leaned forward on Charlie’s headstone and hid my face in shame. I thought the man was fine. Not only that, I thought he was damn fine. I felt like a whore, looking at another man before my husband was even cold in his grave. I lifted my head and he offered me a shy smile before he said more, hooking his thumbs on his suspenders and pulling them. “If its any consolation, based on my experience, I know that grief is firm and steady. But, it does get better… I just don’t know when.” I hummed in agreement this time and for the first time all day, I cracked a smile. “I’ll drink to that.” I kicked a rock at my feet, dusted myself, and returned the shaul to it’s rightful shoulder.

“Well, I guess I’ll be leavin’. Thanks for the talk, stranger.” 

“Remmick,” he said closing the gap between the two of us by a few feet, “pleased to make your aquaintance.” He held out his hand and I did the same. He grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles, right over my wedding band. I pulled my hand away and sucked in air through my teeth like I had just burned myself on hot cast iron. “Um-”

“Oh, I’m sorry, darlin’”

“It’s fine. It’s just…”

“Look, I still wear mine. It’s okay.” He held up his hand and pointed at the gold band that laid on his finger. “I know she’s gone and I should move on, but it’s a nice reminder that, at one point, I wasn’t all that alone.” It wasn’t until his thumb wiped the tears on my face that I realized I was crying. “It feels nice knowing you’re wanted. Feels good to know you have someone to go home to.” All I could do was nod. 

“I met a man named Charles recently, but his friends called him Charlie.” He smiled at me, closing the gap further as I met his eyes. “Me and Charlie… we got to know each other. He told me he had a wife back home. That’s you, ain’t it? Yeah, he told me how much he loved her, how beautiful her voice was. Though, I have to say, that didn’t stop him from sampling all that joint had to offer.” I blinked water away and refocused my gaze on Remmick. “He what?”, it came out of me as a whisper. He kept going, “Even after being with a couple different women he still gushed about you. “She doesn’t sing like a songbird.” He said, “She sounds more like a wolf howling in the night.” And, lo and behold, guess who I find howlin’ in the night? Charlie’s wife.”

I could not digest what he was feeding me. There was a lack of acknowledgement on my part. I wanted to ignore everything Remmick said to me, but all I could think of were the reasons Charlie would sleep with other women. Can’t get pregnant, I thought. I can’t get pregnant. He didn’t want me because I couldn’t get pregnant. My skin burned hot at Remmick’s confirmation, “Such a shame you couldn’t have his child.” 

It broke me out of my trace. I leaned back. “Fuck you!” Remmick only chuckled and I found it in me to place both of my hands on his chest to push him away with all the force I could muster. “You come out here, start talkin’ nonsense about my husband. Damn liar, that’s what you are.” My mind was eddying with the information he fed me.I felt sick as I thought of being relegated to housewife with a husband who snuck around because I couldn’t give him a child. I didn’t want it to be true but what good would it be for a man I had just met to lie? Remmick closed the gap and pressed his body the other side of the tombstone again. He got so close to me our noses almost touched. His hand reached up to my face and wiped the tears off my cheeks again. He skated the back of his right hand against my face, stroking me like one would a frail bird. I swatted his hand away before he could speak, scoffing and making my legs move in the direction of the cemetery gates. “Unbelievable son of a bitch,” I muttered. 

Remmick yanked me back forcefully. It took me all of two seconds to notice that his eyes now more resembled red jewels. Then, I saw the drool dripping out the corner of his mouth. “I got to know Charlie very well. Briefly, but I knew him well all the same. His memories became mine. I know you like to sing in the mornings and read in the garden. I know he bought you that shawl you’re wearing at your favorite shop in town. I know that your family was dirt poor and was picked off one by one. Family of consumptives, picked off one by one, but that wasn’t all was it? Your ma and pa were keepin’ a real big secret, keeping you safe, right? No one had to know. But, that dramatic wave in your hair used to be a dead give away.” I gasped and felt something poke my arm.

Remmick’s nails had formed into claws half the size of my pinky. “We don’t have to bear our crosses alone. We could do it together.” He dragged an open hand down my arm until he reached my wrist. He pressed his thumb down on my arm to create a small cut. He lifted my arm, turned his head, and licked the blood that flowed from my wrist. Remmick moaned, “We don’t have to be alone,” as my blood touched the tip of his tongue.

His other clawed hand reached for my waist as he put my arm around his shoulder. I laced my fingers though his hair, half tugging him away. The fear coursing through my nervous system coiled itself with my desire. This was no man. He was something else, and that excited me as much as it disgusted me. I tested my luck by pulling his hair harder, making the distance between us grow. He bared sharp fangs at me and sucked air through his saliva covered teeth. 

I gawked at him, my lips parting open slightly. He regained his composure and strengthened the grip on my waist. His claws broke skin and left nasty cuts where they impailed. I winced, the pain sobering. This was not right. My husband laid directly under us, likely rolling in the casket I buried him in. I tried to imagine him fighting his way though six feet of earth to get to me. Instead, I saw Charlie staying late at the office with his secretary because he could not stand being with me. I saw Charlie getting drunk and kissing a younger woman. I saw him tossin’ some coin at a man and getting keys to a room for him and a woman liked more than me. I could not get a handle on my thoughts. I wanted to deny him. I wanted to run and escape. I heard my voice before I was able to move, “I don’t think you knew him at all. You don’t know what he wanted. You don’t know how he viewed me, and-”

His voice lacerated mine, “I know what you look like when you’re laying down.” I swallowed hard, closing my eyes. “I know that Charlie came home quietly on some occasions so he could watch how you touched yourself. You never caught him lookin’. Or, maybe you did and liked being watched.” I swallowed hard, my heart attempted to break through my ribcage. “I do know for a fact that he loved seeing that little pussy take him in deep…” He dragged the last word as he slowly pulled the shawl off my shoulder. “I know that you have dark desires you’d rather take to the grave because you told him. He never paid it any mind, assuming you’d grow out of it when you got pregnant. But, you never got pregnant. And, you never lost those needs, huh?”

He pressed me flush against him and my grip on his hair loosened. “I know how you like to be touched, licked, and used. I know more about you than you think.” The hand on my waist moved to my head, guiding me to look up at the sky as he licked from my collarbone allllllll the way up to my ear. “But, I still think I could know you more. We could get to know each other. Isn’t that what you want? To know and be known?” I gulped, “Not like that. Not by you.” 

Remmick sighed, “Let’s fix that then.” 

The second his teeth broke my skin, sweet grunts and hums of appreciation reached my ears. “I sure like the taste of you.” I choked as my blood spilled over my chest in gentle streams. He unlatched from my neck in order to indulge in my body. We made eye contact as his hands traveled down my sides, riping my dress in the process. The thin fabric gave easily to the pull of his sharp nails. He slid his hand under my dress and used his nails to lift the edge of my underwear. He wanted to feel the warmth of my skin against his and the a wild look in his eye told me he was holding back. He cautiously ran his tongue over the swell of my chest, tasting the blood mixed with the salt of my skin. I felt his fangs slowly sink through the skin that protected my heart. He let the blood trickle into his mouth. He drank piously, honoring my body as it slumped against him. I struggled to speak, “Remmick, please… St… stop. Fuck. Ple…Please…” 

He guided me onto the ground, onto my husband’s grave, and kneeled in between my legs. It was difficult to feel much fear when Remmick’s movements mimicked care. My eyes shut too long for his liking, prompting him to tap lightly on my cheek. He cooed “Oh, no, no, no, baby, we’re not gonna stop. You don’t want me to stop. And, right now, I need you awake. I need you to remember this.” He pulled me in for a kiss with a bloodied hand. I wanted to fight him. “Find a way out”, I thought. “This is wrong,” I told myself. It was not enough to convince me. I shut my eyes tight and didn’t feel Remmick against my lips. I felt Charlie, or at least the feeling of when I was with Charlie. It felt like Remmick’s lips were made just for me. He nipped at my bottom lip when he pulled away. The taste of copper was strong on my tongue. I licked the new wound on my lip and reached for Remmick’s suspenders. Sloppy, but determined, I moved the straps off his shoulders and fiddled with his belt buckle. I pulled his pants down and shimmied my dress up, laying back. I needed him to indulge in all my urges. I needed him to take me the way I’ve always wanted to be taken, and I think he could tell. 

Remmick’s body alined with mine as I led him into me. I felt everything. I gripped onto his shirt and he pulled out slowly and entered me again. “I have been waiting for someone like you for a while.” I reveled in the way he stretched me. It was difficult to keep my moans in. He was bigger than Charlie was, and I’d only ever been with Charlie. My sounds were as involuntary as my arms were when they wrapped around Remmick’s shoulders. “Open your mouth.” I did as I was told and dropped my jaw. Remmick let his saliva drip into my mouth, savoring the taste of it mixed with my blood. My head leaned back as his hand ran across my neck and down inbetween my clothed breasts.

He grunted as he handled my body and our movements ended with me on top of him. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I don’t expect you to ride me. Just let me do all the work.” My arms settled on the sides of his body as I laid against him. He cradled me against his chest as I grabbed the sides of his shirt. The absense of his heartbeat registered when I felt mine slow. The arms wrapped around me tightened. He bucked his hips up repeatedly. Over and over again, he hit the right spot inside of me. I was a mumbling mess. “Remmick, I- Plea- Fuck!” The sentence was never a fully formed thought, just an acknowledgment of him and what he was doing to me. He put his forehead against mine as he barrled up into me. He pressed his lips against mine as he consecrated my body. His cock hit every right spot, making me gasp and whine each time he sunk inside me. 

“Look at me,” he begged. His eyes were still red, but softer. No soul in them, but a tenderness still lived there. “We will be beautiful together. I swear it,” his hips moved quicker as his forehead pressed to mine, “We’ll be unstoppable, darlin’, you and I. Okay? You and I. Forever.” My whines continued and I could not quell them. “Forever?” It came out like a plea. I wanted him to promise that forever. I was tired of the temporary nature of every person in my life. For once, I wanted the promise of forever. Remmick grined at me and I smiled back. He was giving me the chance to never be alone. I would always have someone in my corner. I’d finally escape the life I lead, and for that, I would do anything. 

I had heard stories and suspersitions about creatures like him. I should be terrified. I should want to fight back, get away from his grasp and make it til sunrise. I ignored the more sane thoughts by kissing him again. My moans and his grunts formed a symphony that bouncing off nearby headstones, filling out the night sky. My hips tried to meet him half way, but his pace was so solid, and I was so weak, there was no point in me even trying. I began feeling the pressure build up in me. “We’ll never be alone again,” his voice was heavy and sincere. My stuttered moans came to a stop as my orgasm ravanged my body. I grabbed Remmick’s sides as he helped me continue to ride out my orgasm.

His moans and grunts became frantic until he slowed and kissed my lips. He shuttered as his cock twitched and he emptied inside of me. After a moment, his hips moved again, slowly, as he enjoyed the gentleness of my whimpers and the sensitivity of our bodies together. Once our movements and convulsions stopped, he pulled out. We laid still for a while, I was too weak to do much else. He caressed my body and smoothed his hand over my head. He sat up with me still in his arms.

“It won’t hurt too bad. I don’t bite too hard,” he vowed. I nodded. His divine intervention may save me yet. “Now. Please. I’m tired and I-” I gasped as I felt his teeth bite down harder than before. So much for not biting hard. He was relentless. I heard the slurping and drinking as I felt the blood drain from my body. The hands that gripped onto him went limp and my arms fell to my side. I felt cold and empty.

And then, I felt nothing at all.

[thralls-of-power]

▴Thralls of Power ▾

[Youtube Link] | [KoFi Link]

THRALLS OF POWER is a fanmade animatic series based on The Legend of Zelda, imagining the events that transpired between the end of Ocarina of Time up to the distant past referenced in Twilight Princess, set in the so-called Child Timeline.

This is the story of a failed coup, of a desperate uprising, of figures of legend reckoning with their own agency in a kingdom haunted by its past, and the remnants of the Goddesses who forged its fate.

The main cast comprises the usual suspects, but will put a more central focus on Impa, Ganondorf and Zelda, as well as introducing other characters and their perspectives as well, including several gerudos (and yes Nabooru is here of course!)

Thralls is, before anything else, my excuse to do visual character studies. And while it does try to expand upon the alluded lore and wonderful world of Hyrule as presented by Nintendo, it is important to note the story veers further into dark fantasy (and tragedy) than anything that exists in the established canon. The goal is not necesserily to perfectly blend with the canon tone, but to ponder and expand on thematic ideas the games rarely explore in-depth.

This is a solo project I've started at the end of 2023 and have been sporadically working on ever since. The release of episode 1 is estimated in November 2025, since I'm about 85-90% done with the process (but I want ample room to be finnicky). The first episode will be around 40 minutes long.

I do pretty much everything, including the soundtrack (though generously use people's contributions from FreeSound, among other sources, for the sound design), which does imply that 1) I am very slow, and 2) there isn't any voice acting. I've been told this isn't as distracting as I feared, but either way, you are warned!

And you can watch a teaser scene here to get a sense for yourself!

I hope this weird ambitious project will tickle your interest, and that you will enjoy the final result when it does arrive.

Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to send asks if you have questions, and I hope we meet each soon in Hyrule...

Merween (aka @rawliverandcigarettes/@rawliverandgoronspice)

[signsenough]

falsely (?) accused gang

[seddair]

.

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

no doubt ── s. jy

↳ summary ── struggling to balance a world tour, endless responsibilities, and...well, the sting of getting dumped by his girlfriend, jake finds peace & comfort confiding in you—one of his closest friends. what begins as lighthearted late-night phone calls while he's away on tour deepens into something more, quickly pulling you both into uncharted emotional territory. as your connection with jake intensifies, so does your inner turmoil—torn between the comfort of your easy relationship with him and the terrifying possibility of falling for someone you're not even sure you can have in the first place. but jake? jake has absolutely no doubt of what he wants—and spoiler alert? it's you.

↳ pairing ── jake x f!reader, [ft. childhoodbestfriend!jungwon, bestfriends!enha]

↳ genre ── idol!jake, friends to lovers!au || angstttt, fluff, crack

↳ ✎ᝰ. 23.7k [never beating the allegations of getting too attached to my works and having too much fun writing i fear...]

↳ contains ── angst! very angsty but only after a lot of fluff...the cheesy cringe type but then it goes downhill real quick...but happy ending i swear!, mentions of insecurities, maybe one or two curse words, fic starts with jake dating og character named jenn, the use of pet names, jungwon practically plays therapist, jake is absolutely whipped for reader but is terrible at communication and a certified idiot . also jungwon is reader's best friend so the beginning sets up the context for that lolz

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── she's DONEEE [do u hear me crying in the background]...so some backstory lore abt this fic—basically two years ago i had a dream about the ~angsty scene~ of this fic and ever since then, i've had this itch of putting it into words. and when i finally decided to do it, no doubt came out and i thought it was literal fate since the lyrics match the vibe so well...don't tell me it isn't fate guys :') anyways..this is a little different than my typical writing style even though of course i had to include summm crack..but i am still nervous abt how it came out so i really really hope you guys like it :') thank u for all the support and love always <3

↳ update .ᐟ ── check out the sequel series of this fic here!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

You and Yang Jungwon were literally born to be best friends.  

Like, there was no other option.  

Your mom? Their high school's poster child for academic perfection—top of her class, president of every club imaginable, a certified teacher's pet.  

Jungwon's mom? Their high school's unofficial social chair—life of the party, karaoke queen, probably responsible for half the faculty's headaches. 

Nothing alike. 

So naturally, of course, they were inseparable. By their junior year, they'd already started planning their futures together, including one very specific and totally realistic goal that all teenage girl best friends make when they're young:  

"We should have our first kids around the same time and force them to be best friends!"  

"Oh my gosh, yes," Jungwon's mom agreed enthusiastically. "Like, we'll make them share everything! Matching outfits, playdates, joint birthday parties!"  

But what your moms didn't realize as they were giggling over the playful promise that probably didn't hold any meaning to them at the age of 17? 

The universe was taking notes.  

So fast forward a couple decades later, and there you were, baby best friends from birth, fulfilling the shared dream of your mothers—the true puppeteers in this scenario.  

All your moms had to do was execute their promise as planned, but the rest of it? The rest of it was easy.  

You and Jungwon clicked before you even knew what words were, communicating in a series of shared giggles and unintelligible baby noises. By the time you turned two, you were finishing each other's sentences in your made-up gibberish language, and by preschool, the bond was unshakable. 

You two—just like your moms—were inseparable.  

By high school, everyone knew you were a package deal—where you went, Jungwon followed, and vice versa. So, when he announced your sophomore year that he was leaving to compete on a televised idol survival show, you were, understandably, skeptical.  

"Are you sure it's not a scam?" You had asked, rolling lazily around on his bed while he scrambled around his room, packing his bags.  

"It's not a scam," Jungwon laughed, carefully folding his clothes. 

"Did they ask for your social security number?"  

"Y/N."  

"Exactly. I'm just saying—if you end up on one of those exposé documentaries about fake talent shows, don't say I didn't warn you."  

Despite your teasing, you knew how much this meant to him. Jungwon had been dreaming about being in the music spotlight since he figured out how to work a karaoke machine at the age of six.  

So when he eventually did make his debut with his group, you weren't surprised at all—it was inevitable, written in the stars, just like how your friendship with him was.

What did surprise you, though, was how seamlessly you got roped into his new world.  

Sure, Jungwon's life got infinitely busier overnight, but there is no universe that exists in which he'd forget about you—his non-conjoined twin, ride-or-die, and ultimate life-long nuisance (his words, not yours).  

And so naturally, you became an honorary member of this new life of his. The boys' practice studio might as well be your new home—the endless days camping out on the floor of their dance studio with your head in your textbooks while they drilled their choreography for the hundredth time proved that. Or maybe how you crash on their dorm couch so often that Sunoo coined you your new nickname: their unofficial eighth member.  

Which brings you to now: a marketing major by day, unofficial idol by night, and, as always, a certified magnet to chaos.

Case in point? Whatever madness was happening around you at this exact moment.  

"Okay, but hear me out," Heeseung says, gesturing dramatically with his pizza slice—one of many scattered across the coffee table everyone was sitting around. "Pineapple is the perfect combination of sweet and savory—"  

"It's a crime against humanity," Sunghoon cuts in. 

Tomorrow? The boys leave for their five-month tour.  

Tonight? Tonight is tradition: the pre-tour pizza bash.  

Naturally, it's chaos, as no one has bothered with the last-minute packing they're supposed to be doing.  

Not a single bag is packed.  

"It's fruit on bread," you scrunch your nose, taking a bite of your own normal pepperoni pizza. "This isn't dessert, Hee."  

"Thank you!" Sunghoon reaches across the table to high-five you. 

From the couch behind you, Jake chuckles and nudges your back with his knee, "Big talk coming from someone who claims pickles belong on everything."  

"Uh, because they do," you whip your head around to glare at him. "Pickles are versatile."  

"Versatile my ass," Jungwon mumbles from his spot beside you. "I love you, but you're deranged."  

"Look who's talking, Mr. 'I-put-hot-sauce-on-everything'," you shoot back, eyes narrowing at your best friend. Everyone chuckles from around the table at your dramatic, yet endearing, overreaction. 

"Hot sauce is different," Jay chimes in without even looking up from his phone. "It's an enhancer."  

"Pickles enhance flavor too!"  

"By making everything taste like vinegar," Sunoo deadpans from your other side. "Gross."  

"Whatever," you roll your eyes. "You're all uncultured."  

"And you're a menace," Jake quips from behind you, his voice dripping with amusement. You don't even have to turn around to see the smirk on his face—you can hear it loud and clear. 

"Careful, Sim," you say with a sly glance over your shoulder. "Keep talking, and I'll start adding pickle juice to your coffee."  

The room fills with laughter, but before Jake can fire back, his phone buzzes aggressively against the couch. You watch him glance down at his screen before his playful smile instantly fades.  

"I'll be right back," Jake mutters, getting up and heading towards the kitchen without another word.  

You frown as you watch him disappear around the corner, the sudden shift in his mood gnawing at you, and you can't help but wonder what's gotten under his skin. 

After a few more minutes of heated debates over pizza toppings—and yet another round of everyone ganging up on your weird pickle obsession—you decide it was time for a drink refill.  

Excusing yourself, you step into the kitchen, only to find Jake leaning against the counter, his arms crossed and gaze fixed on the empty wall in front of him. His phone sits abandoned on the counter, screen dark.  

"Jake?" You call out softly, approaching slowly. 

Your voice breaks through his haze, his expression flickering as he registers you standing in the doorway, your brows furrowed in concern.  

"What's going on?" You ask, moving closer to stand in front of him.   

"Nothing," Jake says too quickly, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

You give him a look and he knows that you know he's lying, "Jake.."  

He exhales, his expression crumbling as he runs a hand through his hair, "Just...Jenn called."  

Ah. Of course. Jenn.  

You almost flinch at the sound of the name, the weight it carries instantly souring your stomach. Jake's on-again, off-again girlfriend of two years was a constant source of heartbreak—not just for the poor boy, but for the entire group who helped pick up the pieces of his broken heart after every messy break-up…and even messier make-up.  

"She broke up with me," Jake admits quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "For real this time. Something about me leaving for tour and how it wasn't going to work out."  

Your heart hurts at the sight of him in front of you—shoulders slumped, hands nervously twisting the hem of his shirt, as if trying to distract himself from the conversation.  

"Oh, Jake...," you murmur, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder as you lean against the counter next to him.  

"I'm fine," he insists, waving it off, but the expression on his face clearly betrays him.  

"No, you're not," you say, trying to catch his eyes. "And that's okay."  

Jake lets out a shaky breath, finally looking up from the ground to look at you, before shrugging, "I don't even know why I’m surprised. We've been...really off for a while now. Like, more than usual. But still, it sucks."  

“Of course, it sucks," you nod, agreeing softly. "You guys were together for a long time. You cared about her."  

For a moment, the two of you sit in a heavy silence with an unspoken understanding, the only sounds coming from the muffled chatter and laughter in the other room. You stay close, letting him process without pushing further.  

Still, you can't entirely suppress the annoying flare of emotions bubbling in your chest—a tangled knot of sympathy and…something else. Relief, maybe? Not that you would ever wish any sort of pain on Jake—but you hate the way Jenn always leaves him like this: drained, doubting himself, and trying to piece together what went wrong, where he went wrong. 

"Come back to the living room," you say finally, nudging his side gently. "Ni-ki is freaking out over which hoodies to pack. And I swear, they're all the same black hoodie."  

Jake lets out a small, tired laugh, "You don't need me for that. He's gonna end up packing all of them, just watch."  

"You don't know that," you tease. "Besides, I need someone's back up to help me convince him he's not actually going through an emo phase."  

His eyes carry a faint smile as he looks at you, the corners of his lips lifting just enough to remind you of the warmth he usually carries.  

"Okay," he says in a whisper, pushing himself off the counter.  

You start towards the doorway, forgetting about your drink refill entirely, but his voice stops you.  

"Y/N?"  

You turn to find him still standing there, his eyes filled with warmth and appreciation.  

"Thanks," he adds, a small smile on his face. It's such a simple statement, but the way he says it—soft, sincere, and maybe just a little desperate—makes something twist in your stomach. "For just...always being here."  

You smile back up at the boy, "Of course, Jake. I'll always be here for you. You know that."  

For a moment, he holds your gaze, as if taking a mental note of something. Then he nods, his shoulders relaxing.

"Okay," he says, exhaling as he gestures toward the doorway. "Let's go.”

You follow behind the boy back to the living room, silently hoping he knows just how much you mean your promise to him.  

Jake's body is on autopilot at this point.  

Another city, another show, another string of flashing lights and deafening cheers. It's a month into tour, and the endless loop of responsibilities has left him no room to just breathe.  

And he loves this life—he really does. But tonight, for reasons he can't explain, the adrenaline that usually keeps him afloat isn't enough. Pure exhaustion lingers in his bones, heavier than the applause and screams echoing in his memory, and he just can’t seem to shake it. 

When his head finally hits the stiff hotel pillow, Jake exhales with a heavy sigh. The city around him is alive, the neon lights brightly dancing against his windowpane, but he feels none of it. 

Instead? He just feels the weight of homesickness and the ache of being alone. 

Normally, he would push through, shove these thoughts into the back of his mind, call it a night. But tonight, the ache feels different—sharper, louder—and before he knows it, his phone is in his hand before he can talk himself out of it, his thumb hovering over your name on his screen. 

A familiar battle wages in his mind, one he’s been battling more recently ever since tour became a little heavier on him. Slowly, the quiet yearning has been creeping in, and he’s been missing home more and more, craving the feeling of familiarity. But it isn’t just the physical places or the comfort of his regular routine that he craves. 

It’s something else, something harder to name. 

And for some other reason he can’t seem to explain, he thinks it’s you. 

Jake doesn’t know when it started. Maybe it was hearing the sound of your voice through the phone whenever the guys called you to check in every now and then. Or maybe it was the way you would text in their shared group chat, your messages always tinged with humor or a sense of calm that somehow made everything feel a little less overwhelming. 

Whatever it was, it stuck with him. He finds himself craving that unexplainable comfort only you seem to bring. He tells himself it’s nothing special, just the natural pull of familiarity. You’re back at home, the place he misses the most, so obviously, through association, it makes sense. 

It’s logical. Nothing more. 

That’s what he tells himself as his thumb hovers over your name. It’s not about you specifically—it couldn’t be. It’s just the connection to home. The grounding warmth of your voice. The way you somehow make the distance feel a little less suffocating. 

Obviously. Nothing more. 

He presses call.  

Two rings. That's all it takes before your voice cuts through all the static in his head. Groggy, soft, and achingly familiar. Like home.  

"Jake? It's late, is everything okay?"  

Jake glances at the clock. 10:13PM where he is. Much later for you, he imagines. Guilt stirs, but...  

He doesn't want to hang up. 

Hearing your voice feels like the first breath of air after surfacing from deep water. He instantly feels more comfortable despite the heaviness in his chest.

"Hey," he mumbles, his voice quiet. "I'm okay. Just...needed to hear a friendly voice, I guess."  

"Wow, are the boys that bad that you need to call me?" You tease warmly, despite the sleepiness lingering in your words.  

Jake chuckles, the sound low and tired, "Nothing against them, really. It's just...sometimes you need someone who reminds you of home, you know?"  

The other end of the line goes quiet for a moment. He can hear you shuffle, and he braces himself for a teasing comment about him being sappy and sentimental. But instead, your voice softens.  

"Well, I'm glad I could be that for you," your voice telling him you're smiling brightly on the other side of the screen. "Though if I had a private jet, I'd send it right now. Bring you back instantly."  

"A private jet, huh?" Jake's eyes flutter close as he's engulfed into the usual, playful rhythm that's always there between the two of you. "You'd do that for me?"  

"Only if you bring back goodies, preferably snacks," you quip back, and the warmth in his chest grows.  

There's another pause, the kind that feels comfortable rather than awkward. Jake shifts in his spot and before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “How do you do that?”  

“Do what?” 

“Make everything feel...lighter. Like, I can’t explain it, but just hearing you makes me feel like I’m not carrying all this stuff by myself.” 

Your voice softens at his sudden vulnerability. 

“Because you don't have to carry it all on your own, Jake. You know that, right? That’s what friends are for."  

Jake hums in response, a low sound of acknowledgement as he keeps his phone pressed close, your voice instantly soothing the heavy emotions he's been carrying. 

"You sound exhausted," you say after a beat, your tone cautious but filled with genuine care. "How are you holding up? With everything—the tour, the...break-up, just...you?"  

Jake lets out a low groan, his fingers brushing through his hair. "You sound like my mom."  

"Well, someone has to," you tease lightly, a relieved laugh slipping into your voice, as if you'd been afraid you overstepped. "Seriously, Jake. Are you doing okay?"  

Jake hesitates, the question catching him off guard. He hadn't let himself think too much about Jenn or the breakup since leaving for tour a month ago. The boys knew better than to bring it up, and Jake had been grateful for that—for the distraction.  

But now, with you, it feels different. 

Safer, easier. Natural.  

“Honestly? I don’t know,” he sighs, the sound heavy through the phone. “Some days it feels like I’m fine, like I’ve moved on, and other days...it’s like I’m stuck in this loop of ‘what ifs.’ Like, what if I did something different? Or..."  

He trails off to a pause, his throat tight, before he finally admits to you, and himself, "...what if I just wasn't enough?"  

“Jake,” you say gentle but firm, cutting through his spiraling thoughts. “You are enough. You've always been enough. Jenn...she just wasn’t the right person for you. That doesn’t mean you did anything wrong.” 

He swallows hard, your words settling into the cracks he didn't even realize were there. 

"Thanks, Y/N. I mean it. It's just...hard, you know? Haven't really talked about it since it happened. But talking to you helps—a lot."  

“I’m glad." He can hear the quiet sincerity in your words. “And for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing an amazing job. With tour, with...everything. You've got this, Jake. I’m really proud of you.”

Jake lets out a breathy laugh, the warmth in your words settling something in his chest—a knot he didn't even realize was there. 

“You always know what to say, don’t you?” 

“It’s a gift,” you easily reply, and he can hear the grin in your voice, the easy banter making him feel lighter.  

"I missed this," the words tumble out before he can stop himself. Then he quickly adds, as if to explain himself, "It's weird not having you around. The boys are great and all, but you give the best advice. Don't tell them that."  

You giggle on your end, the sound making Jake's lips curve into a small smile and his heart twists.  

In both a comforting and terrifying way. 

"I miss it too," your voice quieter now. "But I'm here. You know that, right? Even if you're on the other side of the world, or if you call me at four in the morning like you're doing right now."  

Jake lets out a chuckle followed by a sleepy groan, "Sorry about that. But...thank you, Y/N. For picking up."  

"Always," you reply, and he hopes you mean it.  

A beat passes. Jake knows he should hang up, that he should let you sleep. He tries to convince himself that you need the sleep more than he needs this call.  

But he can't help himself.  

"You'll yell at me if I don't sleep, won't you?"  

"Absolutely. Go to bed, Jake. Or at least try. Zombie mode doesn't suit you."  

"Fine," he sighs dramatically, but his eyes feel heavier and he knows he's falling asleep, the tension in his body from before easing away. "But only because you scare me sometimes."  

You laugh. "Good. Now get some rest. And call me whenever you need to, okay?"  

"Okay," he mumbles into his phone quietly, his mind already slipping into a deep sleep. 

"Goodnight, Y/N."  

"Goodnight, Jake."  

"Don't you have a bedtime, Sim Jaeyun?" You tease, answering the call. The clock reads 1:27AM, and you should be asleep—you really should—but you smile anyways when Jake's name appears on your screen.  

"Bedtime? I don't know her," his voice slightly groggy, but as usual, still warm. "Besides I knew you'd be awake. You don't sleep like a normal person either."  

You roll your eyes, knowing fully well he can't see it, "Yeah, well, I don't have to dance around a stage for two hours tomorrow."  

"True, but you do have to deal with my constant calls and keep me entertained. That's way harder."  

"Oh yeah, obviously," you say with mock seriousness. "Being your emotional support human is a full-time job." 

“Emotional support human,” Jake repeats, chuckling softly. “You’re right. I guess I really owe you, huh?”

“Oh, 100%,” you shoot back, a grin in your voice. “I want one of those tour hoodies you guys keep posting with.” 

“Done. What size?” 

"The oversized one."  

Jake pauses. “Let me guess—so you can sleep in it?"  

You hesitate, suddenly sheepish at how he knows you too well, “Hey, it's only cozy if it's oversized!"  

You hear his soft laugh on the other end of the line. 

“Cute. I’ll make sure to steal one for you.” 

You try not to overanalyze the way your stomach flips at the word cute, and the easy way he says it, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.  

You shake the thought off immediately. This wasn't new, after all, Jake's always warm and easy to talk to. But lately—over the past month of phone calls—the way he says certain things, the tone he says them in, and the way they make you feel? It carried a weight you weren't sure how to hold.  

In both a comforting and terrifying way.  

“So, how was your day?” you suddenly bring up, trying to redirect your thoughts. 

"Tiring," Jake sighs, his voice muffled as he shifts around in bed. "And Jungwon keeps beating me at Mario Kart during our break time. My pride is in shambles, Y/N."  

"Let me guess," you smirk, repeating his words from earlier. "He picks Yoshi, and you keep picking Toad because you think he's underrated."  

"Excuse me," Jake scoffs. "Toad is underrated. But, for your information, I choose Toad because your go-to character is Toadette."  

Your heart does that stupid flip again. His words are light—I mean, you guys are talking about Mario Kart for god's sake—but it's stuff like that that keeps you questioning the true meaning behind his words.

You ignore the feeling, instead, a laugh bubbles up in response, an attempt to sound unaffected.

"You're so weird."  

“But you like it,” he quips, voice dipping just slightly, like he’s testing the waters. 

You're caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone, but you recover just as quickly. 

"Debatable."  

“Liar.”

His tone is teasing, but there's something softer behind it, “You wouldn’t still be on the phone with me if you didn’t like me at least a little.” 

“Maybe I’m just bored,” you shoot back, though your cheeks are burning at his sudden forwardness, questioning if he’s serious or just messing with you. 

You hear him hum in response, "Then I guess I'll have to work harder to keep you interested."  

“Oh yeah? How are you planning to do that?” You try to match his teasing tone, but internally, you feel unsteady under the implication of his words. 

“By being my usual charming self, duh,” he says, his voice dropping into a smooth tone. “And, you know, calling you every night so you don’t forget about me.” 

Your heart squeezes. "You already do that, stupid. You think I'd forget about you?"  

“Never,” Jake's reply is immediate, almost instinctive, leaving no room for doubt. “But just in case…I like hearing your voice. Makes me feel like I’m not a million miles away.” 

His words linger in the space between you, heavier than the playful banter from earlier. You swallow hard, trying your best to keep your voice steady. 

“You’re not a million miles away, Jake.” 

“Feels like it,” he murmurs. You hear a pause in his voice, as if he's thinking hard about his next words. “I miss home. I miss...you." 

Your chest tightens, and your hands grip the sheets beneath you, as if the fabric could somehow ground you. Your heart is doing that thing again—the erratic, terrifying thing that makes you want to believe in something you're not sure is even real.  

And at the same time, your thoughts are scrambling to say something lighthearted before the conversation steers into that dangerous, dangerous territory you were sure you weren't ready for.  

Not yet.  

"Well, you better win at least one round of Mario Kart for me while you're out there," you force a laugh, trying to mask the tremor in your voice.  

Jake laughs, the sound genuine, "I'll try. But if I lose, just know I'm dedicating every race to you."  

"Wow, I'm so honored," you try to deadpan, but he can sense the grin in your voice.  

"You should be," his voice softens again. "Thanks for picking up tonight, by the way. I know it's late."  

He never fails to thank you every night, as if you haven't been picking up every day for the past month and won't be picking up tomorrow, and the next day...and the day after that.  

And, somehow, the same, genuine appreciation makes it so hard for you to ignore that weird, warm, fluttering sensation growing inside you every time you talk to him.  

But, regardless, you always give him the same reply: 

"Always," your voice matching his softness. "Call me whenever, okay?"  

"Don’t say that," Jake warns, the teasing edge creeping back into his tone. "I'll actually do it."  

"Fine," you giggle. "But if you call me at four in the morning again, I'm putting my phone on Do Not Disturb." 

"Deal." He pauses, then adds, "Goodnight, Y/N."  

"Goodnight, Jake."  

As you hang up, you stare at your phone for a moment longer than you should have, your room feeling oddly quiet and too empty without his voice.  

It's just another call, Y/N. Just another call between two friends.  

But deep down, a part of you tells you it isn’t that simple anymore.  

And maybe—just maybe—he knows it too.  

“Are you busy?” Jake’s voice sounds more tired than usual, heavy with an overwhelming amount of tension. 

“Never too busy for our calls,” you easily reply without hesitation as you lay back in your bed, phone close to your ear. Your voice is light, a stark contrast to the weariness laced in his, and when he doesn’t respond with his typical chuckle, you immediately sense his mood. “Hard day?” 

He exhales slowly, the weary sound answering your question. Today was a lot. Hours of rehearsal followed by a concert, the adrenaline rush of performing, followed by the chaos of having the guys’ hotel information leaked. Crowds of paparazzi and fans swarmed the entrance, the relentless flashes of cameras breaking through whatever little pieces of calm he had left within him. The noise, the pressure, the endless cycle—all spiraled into a mental mess he doesn’t seem to shake. 

The second he settled into his hotel room, all Jake knew was that he needed to talk to you—the one person who could steady his racing thoughts. 

"I just...I didn't think this would get to me, you know? The cameras, the people, the flashes in my face—I'm just—it's like I'm never alone."  

Your heart twists at the vulnerability and rawness in his voice, as if he’s admitting something for the first time—not just to anyone else, but to himself. 

"I—I don't know. Sometimes I wish I could just disappear, just for a little while. Just to breathe, you know?"  

You close your eyes, your grip on the phone unconsciously tightening as if it could anchor him somehow.  

"I know it's not the same," your voice steady, even as you internally ached for him, "but...you can disappear with me, Jake. Even if it's just through the call. No cameras. No noise. Just...you and me."  

He lets out an exhale—shaky, but relieved.  

"You're really good at this. Making me feel like it's all gonna be okay."  

"Because it is going to be okay, Jake," you reply softly. "You're not alone, Jake. Not with me."  

"Yeah," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, and he wishes more than anything else in this moment that he actually was with you. “I know.” 

"Jake," you groan, sitting cross-legged on your bed, staring at the flustered boy through your laptop screen. "I'm begging you—just wear the black jacket. It's literally impossible to mess up black."  

"But what about the beanie?" He whines as he pops back into view, his face scrunched up in genuine distress. "Do you think I can pull it off, or will I look like I'm trying too hard? Be honest, Y/N."  

What started as a simple fashion-advice-question over the phone turned into a two-hour wardrobe emergency—all because Jake couldn’t figure out what to wear to the airport the next day (because, apparently, airport fits matter—his words, not yours).

"Jake, you could wear a literal trash bag to the airport and fans would still lose their minds," you tease, biting back a laugh. 

He rolls his eyes at you, but the smile tugging at his lips says otherwise.  

"Okay, but seriously, you’re trying too hard. Just go with the jacket, no beanie," you add on, just to end this two-hour long madness.  

"Hmm," Jake plops on his bed and turns towards his phone camera, and you swear you can see the pout forming on his lips. "But I already posted a preview of the jacket last week. Isn't that, like, repetitive?"  

"Jake,” you blink at him, "it's an airport. Not a fashion show."  

He stares at you for a beat, then lets out a dramatic sigh, "Fine! Jacket, no beanie. But if I see even one criticizing comment calling me basic, I'm blaming you."  

You laugh, shaking your head at his ridiculousness, "Deal. Now go to sleep, Sim Jaeyun."  

His grin softens as he adjusts the camera to fully look at you, pout gone, eyes glistening.

"Only because you said so."  

"Hey," you say softly, answering the call as you snuggle deeper into your blanket, letting it engulf you completely.

The familiar sound of Jake's quiet breathing fills the space between you, and before he even says a word, you already know.  

"Rough day?" You ask gently when he doesn’t say anything after a few seconds. 

"Yeah," he murmurs, his voice quieter than usual, almost drowned out by the low hum of background noise. "I just...I don't really feel like talking right now, if that's okay."  

"Of course," you reply without hesitation, your tone gentle, no questions asked.

On the other end, Jake presses the phone closer to this ear in an attempt to feel closer to you, instantly feeling better from your pure understanding of how he’s feeling, and he thinks—not for the first time—that you might be his favorite person in the world.  

The warm silence engulfs the both of you like a shared blanket, unspoken yet understood. You can hear the faint echoes of his surroundings: the muffled laughter of the boys somewhere nearby, the distant honk of traffic outside his hotel, and then the quiet shuffle of Jake shifting positions in his hotel bed. You catch his breath catching slightly, like he's finally allowing himself to relax—to just be.  

You don't try to fill the silence. You know that he needs this—a moment of peace in the chaos. Instead, you similarly press the phone closer to your ear, as if doing so can somehow bridge the miles between you, hoping he can sense your presence reaching out for him. 

Minutes pass like this, and for a moment, it’s so quiet you begin to wonder if he's falling asleep. But then, a deep exhale breaks the stillness.

"Thank you, Y/N," he says finally, his voice low but steady, carrying a weight of sincerity that makes your heart clench.  

"You don't have to thank me, Jake," your voice matches his softness. "You know that."  

"Still," his voice is low, so quiet, it feels like a secret meant only for you. "I appreciate you. More than you probably know."  

You smile to yourself, your heart aching in the best way possible, and you desperately try your best to ignore it, no matter how much excitement it brought you. 

"Always, Jake." 

“Tell me something about you that I don’t already know,” you challenge him, your voice carrying that light and endearing tone over the phone that Jake’s come to crave. 

“Hmm,” Jake hums thoughtfully as he lies in his bed, eyes closed, just simply treasuring the small moments, like this one, with you. 

Even though it’s definitely 3AM where he is right now. And he definitely has to be up in a few hours for rehearsal. 

Oh well, completely irrelevant. Talking about everything and anything with you just felt so right. 

“I don’t know,” he eventually exhales, his brain too foggy to think of anything logical right now. “I feel like you know me better than I know myself at this point, Y/N.” 

“You’re so corny it physically hurts, Jake,” you scoff, and Jake swears he can feel your exaggerated eye roll from thousands of miles away. 

“Oh—wait, wait! I have one,” he perks up, his eyes shooting open as he turns towards the phone in excitement. 

“Hit me,” you say, unconsciously smiling at how cute he sounds. 

“I’m allergic to flowers.” 

The line falls silent for a beat before you erupt into a storm of giggles so wild it makes Jake feel sick from how fast the butterflies in his stomach start fluttering. 

“That’s your fun fact? That’s so tragic, Jake,” you gasp through your giggles. “Like, depressingly tragic.” 

“Hey! It’s not that sad, it could be worse,” Jake hopes you can hear his pout over the phone (you can). 

“So you’re telling me you’ve never bought a girl flowers before?” You tease, smiling to yourself as you stare at your ceiling. 

“Guess not,” Jake lets out a laugh, which surprises himself. “Jenn used to always get mad at me for never getting her any, but what am I supposed to do? Show up with a bouquet and an epi-pen? I literally start tearing up whenever I’m around any kind.” 

You lose it all over again, your laughter spilling through Jake’s phone like sunshine, and Jake doesn’t even realize he’s smiling so widely until his cheeks start to ache. 

But what Jake does realize is something unexpected: for the first time in forever, he can talk about Jenn without a single pang of…anything. No weird tension, no lingering sadness—just a casual mention and then…nothing. 

It’s freeing, this feeling of lightness, like an invisible weight he didn’t know he was even carrying has suddenly lifted. He wonders if this is what moving on really feels like, if he’s found his emotional freedom. He wonders when it changed. 

He wonders maybe it’s not when—maybe it’s who.  

And he wonders if it’s you. 

Today was supposed to be Jake’s day off. The golden ticket to rest, recharge, and not think about anything.

Key term: supposed to be.

Instead, Jake found himself knee-deep in the trenches of emotional warfare—and losing spectacularly.

The morning started innocently enough. No alarm, no schedule, just the soft promise of freedom that was so close within his reach. But by noon, Jake came to a harsh realization.

Freedom was a lie.

Because every step, every sight, every breath, was haunted by one inescapable thought: You.

It started with a boutique. Him and the boys had wandered down a cobblestone street in a city that Jake had already forgotten the name of—city number ten or eleven of tour? He barely knew anymore. But then his gaze caught on a mannequin in the window.

Big mistake.

The outfit on display—similar to his mind—had you written all over it. Immediately, his brain spiraled.

Y/N would love that. She'd probably drag me and all the guys in and force me to hold her bag while she tried it on.

He had to physically stop himself from dragging the group inside to purchase it on the spot.

Next? A coffee shop. And there it was: a poster featuring some limited-edition iced peach latte. Jake froze, staring at it like it held the answers to life itself.

You’d love it. You would order it, (well, you'd make Jake order it, because you hate talking to cashiers), sip it, smile, and probably rant about how overpriced it was—even though Jake would pay for it—yet you’d still finish the entire thing.

And then, you'd steal half of his drink, too. 

Because you always did. 

And Jake always lets you.

The final straw? A cat. Just a random stray, peacefully lounging on a sunny part of sidewalk, looking like it had zero interest in the world around it. And even that didn't escape Jake's you-obsessed filter. Without even thinking, Jake whipped out his phone. 

It was instinctual at this point.

Jake [1:06PM]: (attached - one image) Jake [1:06PM]: thought you'd like this one :)

Because obviously, you needed to see that cat. Immediately.

By the time Jake collapses onto his hotel bed that evening, he feels like he’d run a mental marathon—except instead of a finish line, every road led back to you.

He flops onto his bed, hoping sleep would save him from the storm raging in his brain.

Spoiler alert: it doesn't.

Instead, it leads him to the complete opposite. He stares at your name on his phone, your contact picture, your last messages to him. 

You texted him two hours ago—a sweet goodnight message that ended with your usual, 'Don't hesitate to call if you need me.' 

Casual. Normal.

But it probably didn't mean, 'Hey, please interrupt my sleep from the other side of the world so we can discuss your ongoing emotional crisis over me.'

Don't do it, Jake. The remaining rational brain cells within him beg him to stop. You're being dramatic. She's not the air you need to breathe.

But at the same time, deep down, Jake really thinks you are.

The worst part? You two already had talked on the phone earlier—when Jake had another fashion crisis and couldn't decide what to wear for his day off exploring with the guys. Of course, you laughed at him, teased him, but then helped him pick something out anyways. Typical.

Personally, if it was up to him, he'd spent his whole day off on the phone with you. Talking about everything. Or nothing. Whatever you wanted, Jake would've done it, no hesitation.

Don't do it, Jake, his brain warns him again. What kind of obsessed-lunatic calls the same person twice in one day?

Answer: Jake.

But as Jake lies in his hotel bed, thoughts heavily clouded with the image of you and the sound of your voice, he realizes...this wasn't just a phone call thing. No, this was deeper, worse. And somewhere between staring at the same patch of ceiling and replaying every memory of you on a mental loop, Jake tries to rationalize it.

She’s just a good friend, Jake. A best friend, even! You think about her a lot because she’s cool and funny and…and she has the laugh of a Disney princess...But it’s normal to think about your friends, right? Right??

But the more he tries to downplay it, the clearer it becomes. This was something else.

And then it hits.

Like, really hits.

Oh my god. I like her.

Jake shoots upright, widened eyes filled with horror, as if the realization itself just physically smacked him across the face.

No, no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening.

Jake buries his face in his hands, groaning. But the groan quickly turns into a muffled scream, because the more he thinks about it, the worse it gets.

Because he thinks you're going to be the death of him. He really, really likes you. Not in the vague, 'Oh, she’s cute' way, but in the write-her-name-in-a-heart-and-doodle-little-stars-around-it kind of way. The stare-at-her-texts-like-they’re-poetry kind of way. The imagine-her-laughing-at-your-dad’s-jokes-and-enjoying-your-mom’s-meals-forever kind of way.

And this feeling? It's new. It's terrifying. 

It's exhilarating.

Jake realizes in this very moment that he's never experienced this heart-pounding, face-flushing, breath-taking kind of feeling towards anyone. Sure, his past relationship had been meaningful in its own way, but now Jake is realizing that the foundation of his past relationship was tangled up in obligations and unspoken expectations. A tightrope act of Jake having to be the perfect boyfriend, the perfect idol, the perfect...everything. He never realized how suffocating it was until now—until you. Because this feeling with you?

This was pure. Simple, clear, and undeniable.

Your sheer existence proved that it's possible for someone to understand him better than he understands himself. Your laugh had a way of making everything feel lighter, like the weight of the world had been momentarily suspended. Just one look from you alone somehow always manages to make him feel like he was still worthy even on his worst days.

With you, Jake felt...himself, for once. Not Jake Sim, global popstar. Not Jake Sim, the boyfriend of so-and-so. Just...Jake.

Jake's heart pounds as the realization sinks in. He's now transitioned from screaming into his hands to his poor hotel pillow.

Because as clear and strong as this feeling is, the doubt is just as overwhelming. What if you don't feel the same? What if this ruins everything?

But at the same time...what if you do feel the same way?

What if this is his chance? The butterfly effect that changes everything? What if you're it? You have to be.

And so, like an idiot possessed, Jake's finger is one millimeter away from pressing call on your name again.

Because, obviously, the best way to deal with overwhelming feelings is to confess them from a hotel room five countries away.

Obviously. 

Because what if he didn't call? What if he spent the rest of his night spiraling into an endless pit of unspoken feelings and overthinking, arms flailing as he knows the only way out of the pit is with your help?

What if his brain explodes with the sheer amount of feelings he has for you and he never has the chance to tell you ever again?

He presses call.

The line rings twice before you answer.

"Jake?" Your voice is soft, laced with surprise and just the faintest trace of sleep. "It's late for you, is everything okay?"

Jake's brain short-circuits. What time even is it for him? He has no idea, and frankly, he doesn't care.

"Yeah," he blurts, far too quickly that he winces at himself. He clears his throat before trying again, "I mean, yeah. Everything's fine. I just...couldn't sleep."

"Oh," you hum softly and Jake swears the sound alone could single-handedly resolve global wars.

Yeah, he definitely likes you.

"Is something stressing you out?" The genuine concern in your voice makes his chest tighten.

"No—well, nothing like that," Jake rushes to assure you, sitting up straighter in bed now, as if you could see him. His voice lowers, almost shy, "I just...I was thinking about you."

Silence. Jake's heart pounds so loudly, he's sure you can hear it through the phone.

"About me?" You finally tease, light and playful, but there's something softer underneath. "What did I do to deserve such an honor?"

Jake lets out a nervous, breathy laugh, running a hand through his hair, “You exist. That’s what.”

Another pause. He hears you exhale softly, and the sound alone sends his heart into overdrive.

"That was smooth," your voice is quiet, soft, as if teetering on the line of teasing and nervousness at the same time. "Ten out of ten, Jake."

"I'm serious," Jake tries his best to keep his voice from cracking, the weight of his feelings pressing down on him. "I was lying here, thinking about everything, and I realized something."

"And what's that?"

Jake's throat goes dry. His heart is screaming at him to say it, but his brain begs him to reconsider.

But Jake's sure he's lost all his rational brain cells for sure at this point, so he swallows hard, and braces himself for impact.

"I like you, Y/N."

The words spill out, raw and unpolished, but so utterly true.

“I mean, I really like you," Jake continues, his voice barely above a whisper now. "More than a friend, more than anything.”

The line goes silent, and for a split second, a lifetime of pure awkwardness and torture of not having you in his life anymore flashes in his vision, and he rushes to fill the void.

"I know this is probably the worst timing ever, and probably really scary...and it's okay if you don't feel the same way," his voice definitely cracks this time, laying everything bare, but he doesn't care anymore. "But I had to tell you. I can't pretend around you, not when being around you feels like the only time I'm really me."

Then, you let out a soft exhale—a disbelieving, breathless sound that makes Jake's heart skip a beat.

"Jake..."

"You're...you're everything, Y/N. You make life better just by being in it. And I haven't even seen you in four months, but you're all I think about," Jake lets out a small laugh, swallowing the remainder of all his pride and dignity. "I promise, when I'm back...I'll prove it to you. I'll show you how much you mean to me. Anything it takes. "

For once in his life, Jake feels completely vulnerable—and yet, strangely, it feels right.

Because he means it, every word.

He's never meant anything more.

The line had gone quiet after Jake’s confession, his words echoing in your ears. 

“I like you, Y/N.” 

No, not like. Really, really like. 

You spent the last few days replaying his words over and over, dissecting every syllable, every tiny inflection in this voice. At first, it didn't even seem real.  

A part of you still thinks it isn't—that this is all a cruel dream and you're going to wake up any second now back in the real world. The one where Jake Sim, the boy who turns heads and steals hearts without even trying, didn't just confess his deepest, most vulnerable feelings for you in a single phone call. 

But no. He said it, alright. Clear as day.  

First, all you felt was pure happiness. Maybe it was hearing his voice everyday, or maybe it was seeing how his face lit up through the screen when you picked up his video calls—but somewhere along the way, you knew it was something deeper. 

Something that made your heart skip when his name lit up your phone, something that left you craving his voice to make your day feel complete. And now? Now the boy who’d effortlessly become your favorite part of every day was telling you you’d done the same for him. 

But then, came the fear. 

Because what if this was just a rebound? What if you were just a soft landing for him, a way to patch up the holes left behind by his past? Here you were, standing at the edge of something terrifyingly real, wondering if you were just a step in his recovery process—a way to fill the cracks, but not the kind of permanence you were beginning to crave. 

You weren’t naive enough to see Jake’s past relationship didn’t still linger in the corners of his mind. You’d seen him struggle with it before, how hard he’d tried to convince himself he was fine. What if you were just the next step in his healing, rather than something real—a Band-Aid for a wound that wasn’t even yours to heal? 

And worse—what if you let it happen? What if you let yourself fall, only to hit the ground at an alarming speed, and...splat. Not just a regular, embarrassing tumble, no. But the kind that leaves you flattened on the pavement like a cartoon character who ignored every warning sign. 

Because that’s exactly what it would feel like, wouldn’t it? Giving it, letting yourself hope—only to crash and burn spectacularly. 

Deep down, you knew you weren’t just risking a little heartache. Because Jake? Jake had quietly claimed a permanent spot in your heart at this point. 

You were risking everything. 

And the worst part? 

You were already halfway there. 

That was the reason why you told him you needed time. The reason why all you could manage to respond was a meek, 'I just...I need to think about this.' And to his credit, Jake hadn't pushed. Of course, not.  

But now, three days later, you were no closer to an answer. If anything, the time apart had made everything worse. 

Because as the days stretched on, with every passing hour, every text you didn’t send and every call you didn’t make, one thing became gut-wrenchingly, undeniably clear: 

You were already his. 

You miss Jake’s voice, his laugh, the way he rambles about the most random things late at night. You miss how, somehow, he made you fall asleep with a smile on your face from the other side of the world. You miss him, that even in his absence, he was still your first thought in your mind when you woke up and the last before you drifted to sleep. 

And no amount of overthinking or second-guessing could change the truth that finally settled in your chest like a secret you weren’t ready to admit to yourself:

You were his. Completely. 

The only question now was whether you’d let yourself believe he was yours too. 

"Y/N?"  

"Jungwon," you groan helplessly into your phone. "Help me."  

A pause. Then, "Are you sure you meant to call me? It's Jungwon, not Jake," he teases lightly. "I can go get Jake if you meant—" 

"Jungwon!" You cut him off, panicked. "I'm being serious. It's about Jake, dummy."  

"Oh," his tone shifts instantly as he senses the seriousness in your voice. "Did something happen? Because I swear, for the past three days, Jake's been moping around like a kicked puppy, and I was gonna ask you about it because I know you guys have been talking a lot more, but I didn't want to push, and—" 

"That's exactly it, Jungwon!" You wail into your pillow, your voice muffled. Great, now you feel even worse, knowing Jake is moping around, waiting for you.   

"What's exactly it?" Your best friend presses, voice curious. "I need specifics, Y/N."  

You hesitate, the words clinging to the back of your throat like they're too heavy to admit. Finally, you take a deep breath and force them out.  

"Jake told me he likes me, Jungwon. Like really, really likes me. He gave this whole monologue about how I'm all he can think about, and it was so cute, and it made me want to explode from joy and fear all at once, and I don't know what to do!"  

A beat of silence. 

Jungwon sucks in a dramatic breath and then, "Wait, wait, wait. Back up. First of all, this is not news to me."  

You blink, as if he can see your look of shock over the phone, "What?"  

"This was obvious, Y/N. The guy's been smitten with you for months. You guys literally have been talking every day since we left."  

Your jaw drops, "So what? You and I talk every day! How is this any different?"  

Jungwon snorts, "Y/N, we text every day. About minuscule things. Like me reminding you not to forget your keys and you ghosting my last text. But you and Jake? You guys talk for hours—into the illegal hours of the night, mind you. Trust me, I know. Hotel walls are thin."  

You feel your cheeks flushing, "That doesn't mean anything."  

"Doesn't it?" Jungwon's voice is laced with amusement. "When's the last time you called me just to hear my voice?"  

"Jungwon."  

"Exactly."  

You groan again, "But Jungwon, what if…what if he's not over Jenn? What if I'm just a rebound?"  

Jungwon goes quiet for a moment, his tone softening when he finally speaks, “Jake’s not like that, Y/N. You know that. He wouldn’t tell you he likes you unless he meant it.” 

“Yeah, but—” 

“Look," he interrupts. "Jake’s a lot of things—annoyingly loud, for one—but he’s not the kind of guy who’d use someone, especially you, as a rebound. If he said he likes you, he likes you.” 

You bite your lip, his words settling over you like a warm blanket—because you know they're true.  

“And for what it’s worth,” Jungwon continues, “I think you like him too.” 

“I..,” you falter, your heart hammering in your chest. “I do.” 

“Then what are you waiting for?” 

You sigh, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the nerves coiled in your stomach, “I don’t know. I guess I’m scared.” 

“That’s okay,” Jungwon says gently. “But don’t let fear stop you from something that could make you happy. You deserve that, Y/N. And so does Jake.” 

You close your eyes, letting Jungwon's words sink in. Deep down, you know he's right, he always is.  

"Thanks, Jungwon," you say, your voice softer now, tinged with gratitude.  

"Anytime," he replies, and then, with a teasing lilt, "But seriously—you should probably tell him soon. I can't stand watching him mope around like a sad, abandoned puppy. It's seriously tragic, like, to the point where I’m gonna have to start letting him win at Mario Kart."  

A small giggle escapes you, light and genuine for the first time in three days, "I know, I know. Eventually."  

"Y/N," his voice turns playfully stern, like a parent lecturing their toddler. "Eventually isn't a time. Just call him. You've been thinking about him nonstop, haven't you?" 

Unfortunately, Jungwon knows you too well. Your silent response betrays you, and Jungwon lets out a triumphant hum.  

"Thought so. Well, you should go. You have a call to make."  

You sigh, a mix of nerves and a new determination bubbling, "Okay, okay. But if this goes horribly wrong, I'm blaming you."  

"It won't. But deal," his tone is reassuring, confident, like he already knows how this story ends. "You got this, Y/N."  

The call ends, and the quiet still of your room taunts you. For a moment, you sit there, staring at your phone, the little icon of Jake's contact picture—a selfie the two of you took together many years ago—staring back at you like a challenge.  

Your fingers hover. Your heart races, your palms feel clammy, and your stomach twists.  

But then you remember Jungwon's words.  

You deserve this.  

And so does Jake.  

You take a deep breath, then you press down on his name.  

The phone doesn't even reach the second ring before he picks up.  

"Y/N," Jake’s voice is rushed, a little breathless.  

"Hey," you say softly, suddenly unsure where to start. "Um, were you busy?"  

"No, no," he quickly responds. "Not at all. You could call me at 3AM, and I still would’ve picked up."  

"That's unhealthy, you know," your lips twitch as you lay back in your bed, taking a deep inhale. You missed this—you missed him.  

"For you? Worth it," you can hear the smile in his voice, but along with the slight tension just beneath it—the faintest tremor that tells you he's been waiting for this call, maybe agonizing over it just as much as you have.  

You swallow hard, gripping the phone tight, "Jake, about...our last call..."  

"Take your time," he says gently, though you don't miss the way his voice wavers ever so slightly. "I mean it, Y/N. There's no pressure."  

You exhale shakily, closing your eyes, “I’ve been thinking a lot, too. About you. About…us.” 

Jake stays silent, but you could hear the faint sound of him shifting, like he was bracing himself. 

You squeeze your eyes hard, as you let the words finally come out, "I like you too, Jake. A lot. So much, honestly. It's just..."  

"It's just...?" Jake's voice repeats softly, as if that's all he can manage to let out in the midst of his nervousness.  

You hold your breath, scared of what you're about to admit—to Jake and to yourself. 

"It's just...I'm scared," your voice comes out barely above a whisper, "I'm scared that this is too good to be true. That you're saying all of this because...I don't know—you're trying to move on...from the past, or because you're lonely on tour, or—" 

"Y/N,” Jake's voice cuts through firm, but gentle.  

"You're not…a rebound, or a distraction, or anything like that," he starts quietly, each word deliberate. "And this isn't about...Jenn, or me being lonely, or whatever else you think. This is about you."  

Your breath hitches as you take in his words and open your eyes, hoping that staring at the ceiling above you could somehow ground you.  

“You’re the one who makes me laugh when I’ve had the worst day,” Jake continues. “You’re the one I want to talk to, even when I’m running on zero sleep. You’re the one I think about when I’m on stage and wish I could just look into the crowd and see you there. It’s you, Y/N."  

His words are overwhelming, too much, and you're unsure how to even process them. Your throat tightens, and you can feel the subconscious tears prickling at the corners of your eyes without even realizing they were forming.  

"Are you sure, Jake?"  

"More than anything else, Y/N," he says immediately, like the words have been waiting on the tip of his tongue. "And I want to do this right, Y/N. No rushing, no expectations. Just...tell me what you need from me, and I'll do it. Whatever it takes, I'll do it."  

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache. You can picture him on the other side of the line, sitting in some unfamiliar hotel room, his brows probably furrowed in that adorable way they always do whenever he tries to find the right words.  

You bite your lip, a small laugh escaping despite the tears sliding down your cheeks, “You’re so cheesy, you know that?” 

Jake lets out a small laugh, immediately easing from the tension that hung in the air.  

"Only for you," he mumbles, his voice soft but steady.  

You sigh, the sound reaching Jake on the other side. There's a pause, a moment of mutual understanding in silence, just listening to the quiet, peaceful hum of each other's breathing.  

“Jake?” You say finally, your voice trembling. 

“Yeah?” 

“I think…” You take a deep breath, and you think your heart is about to break out of your chest. “I think I want to try too.” 

The silence on the other end was electric, and for a moment, you think maybe the call dropped. Then, you hear the unmistakable sound of Jake’s laugh—soft, relieved, and filled with so much warmth that it instantly makes your own heart feel lighter. 

“You're driving me crazy, Y/N,” he says, his voice almost breathless, but tinged with humor.  

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he says, a smile clear in his tone.  

“I hope I am,” you quip, and it makes him chuckle, the sound warm and full of relief. “Guess I’m stuck with your cheesy lines now huh?” 

“Stuck with me?” Jake repeats, pretending to sound offended. “No way. I’m stuck with you, Y/N. And trust me, I’m not going anywhere.” 

His words are so simple, yet so full of promise, and it leaves you feeling a little breathless. 

“Good,” you whisper, your cheeks warm. “Because I don’t want you to.” 

“Hi Jake,” your voice bright as you immediately pick up his call and see his face appear on the screen, his expression softening when he sees you. 

“Hey pretty,” he replies, without missing a beat, his voice laced with a soft fondness that never fails to make your stomach flip. 

You roll your eyes, failing miserably to hide the blush rising to your cheeks, “Oh, so now I’m pretty, huh?”

Jake smirks at your words, leaning closer to his phone, “Nah, you’ve always been pretty. Just didn’t have the guts to say it to your face before.”  

You groan, dramatically planting your face into your pillow as an attempt to bury the smile on your face, your voice muffled, “You’re gonna be the death of me, Jake.”

“Stop that, don’t hide. Let me see your face,” his tone dips somewhere between playful and pleading, and you give in, lifting your head just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your red cheeks. 

“Cute,” he says with a knowing grin, leaning back against the headboard of his bed. 

“Whatever,” you murmur, but the smile on your face remains. “How was your day today?” 

“Mmm, it was good,” Jake says, running a hand through his messy hair. “Busy, but good. I forget how loud the fans get each time. But it’s nice. Makes it feel worth it, you know?” 

“I’m glad,” your smile grows as you watch him speak, feeling nothing but proud of him. “You deserve all of it, Jake.” 

“Stop,” now he’s groaning, throwing a hand over his face to cover his shy expression. “You’re going to make me blush.” 

“Mm, looks like you already are, Jakey,” you shake your head, laughing softly. 

“Maybe a little,” he admits as he peeks at you through his fingers, his grin boyish and infectious, and you can’t help but laugh again. 

The call falls quiet for a moment, but it’s not awkward—just comfortable, like a shared breath. Jake shifts, turning on his stomach and propping his phone up against some pillows to make sure you can still see him. 

“I miss you,” he says suddenly, and there’s something raw in his tone, something unguarded that catches you off guard. 

Your heart stutters.

“Jake, I literally called you this morning,” you tease, your tone light and sweet. But still, you can’t resist, “I miss you too.”  

“You don’t sound convincing enough,” his eyes narrow at you, the pout forming on his lips quickly turning into a small smirk. “Say it like you mean it.” 

“Fine,” you huff, rolling your eyes. “I miss you so, so much Sim Jaeyun, that it’s physically painful and I might conbust on the spot if I don’t see you soon. Happy?” 

“Very,” he grins into the camera, making your heart beat faster. Ugh. "But please don't combust for me. Who else am I supposed to call every day?"  

"Oh, please, you'd survive," you shoot back, smirking. "I'm sure anyone else would be more than happy to fill the spot."  

Jake clicks his tongue, shaking his head dramatically. "Nope, no one could keep with you, Y/N. You're a handful."  

"Excuse me?" You scoff, mock offense all over your face. "You're calling me a handful? Jake, who's the one that texts me random song lyrics at 3AM and expects me to interpret their deep meaning like it's poetry?"  

"Okay, first of all, they are deep," he argues, his grin widening into something boyish and utterly unfair. "And second of all, I know you secretly love it."  

You let out a laugh as you roll onto your side, propping your phone against the pillow next to you.  

"Maybe I do," you admit with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant despite the smile on your face. "Or maybe I don't. That's up to you to find out."  

Jake shakes his head, laughing softly, his eyes twinkling as they linger on your face. 

"You really are a handful, Y/N," his voice teases while his eyes remain on you through the screen, as if studying you, and it makes your stomach flip.  

You glance away, suddenly feeling shy again under his unwavering gaze, "Stop looking at me like that."  

"Like what?" His voice is innocent, his eyebrows lifting in feign obliviousness.  

"I don't know—like you're trying to memorize my face or something," you mutter, your cheeks burning.  

"Maybe I am," his voice dips, low and soft. "Honestly wouldn't complain if that's the last thing I ever got to remember."  

His words hit you square in the chest, and despite how ridiculously corny they are, they manage to take your breath away. You don't know if you'll ever get used to this newly discovered side of Jake—the one that speaks so candidly, so sweetly—like you're the only person in his universe.  

But honestly? You love it. You love how he makes you feel, how his words wrap around you perfectly like they were tailor made just for you. But as much as you love it, you fear it too.  

Because the more you fall into this feeling, the more you wonder if there's anything solid beneath it. Despite all the soft words shared and sweet nothings exchanged, at the end of the day, deep down inside you can't help but ask yourself if his words, if he, is even yours to begin with. 

"Jake..."  

"Hmm?" His voice is gentle now, the teasing edge in his voice fading.  

"You really mean it, don't you?" You ask, your voice quieter now, the question laced with your vulnerability. "You're serious about...this? About us?"  

"Of course I am," he answers without hesitation. His soft eyes stay trained on you as he sits up in his spot in bed, as if to show just how serious he is. He lets out an exhale, as if mentally encouraging himself to continue, "I know we're not...whatever this is, officially yet. But I do know that I like what we have."  

He brings his phone closer, a small smile on his face, his expression earnest, "And that I like you. A lot."  

You swallow hard, his words settling in your chest in the best way possible. Because despite everything—the doubts, the undefined boundaries—you can't deny the truth of how you feel.  

"Me too," you admit, your voice steady and honest. "I like what we have too. And I like you."  

You pause, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you feel the remainders of your walls crumbling down, "You make me happy, Jake. Like annoyingly happy."  

"Good. Because you make me happy too," His smile spreads wide, the kind that is contagious and could light up an entire room. "Annoyingly happy, if we're being specific."  

You roll your eyes again, though you're smiling just as much, "We really are insufferable, aren't we?"  

"Oh, completely," Jake nods, his tone playful. He's more relaxed, back to leaning against his headboard as he looks at you with a softened gaze. "We'll figure it out, Y/N. I promise. Whatever this is, or whatever it becomes, I'm not going anywhere. And honestly? I just can't wait to see you. Finally."  

"Me too," you perk up, your eyes sparkling with excitement as you bring your phone closer, "It feels like it's been forever. This tour feels so much longer than the other ones for some reason."  

"It does," Jake hums in agreement, his eyes thoughtful. "But you know what? I think It's because, this time...I actually have something waiting for me. Something—or someone—I want to come home to. And that makes every day feel so much longer."  

You think, at this point, you should check yourself into the emergency department for the sheer amount of times you thought your heart was going to pound out of your body from Jake's words alone.  

“You're ridiculous," you laugh, the sound bubbling out so naturally you couldn't hold it back even if you tried. "It's getting kind of out of hand how cheesy you are, Jake."  

"And yet," he fires back with a smirk, "you love it. Admit it. I've cracked the code."  

"Maybe I do," you tease, repeating your words from earlier as the corners of your mouth tug up into a smile you can't suppress. "But don't let it get to your head."  

"Too late," he grins. "It's already there."  

Jake [2:15AM] : can I call you?   Y/N [2:16AM]: jake isnt it like 2AM for you?   Jake [2:16AM]: well…yea but I was thinking about you so… 

Your feet are kicking before you even realize, and before you can type up a response, your phone lights up with Jake's name and contact picture. 

“Hi,” you answer softly, trying not to let the giddy smile growing on your face take over. 

“Hey pretty,” he greets, voice warm and easy as he brings a hand through his messy hair. The lights in his room are off, and the dim glow of his phone screen casts a soft light over his features, making him look unfairly good for someone who should be fast asleep.  

“You have two seconds to give me a good reason why you’re here talking to me instead of getting a good night’s rest before your concert tomorrow,” your eyes narrow in mock disapproval as you give him a knowing look.  

Jake laughs lightly, “Hey! Okay, hear me out. I couldn’t sleep, so I did something.”  

You raise an eyebrow, “You did something? That sounds ominous, I’m scared.”  

“Yeah. For you,” he states plainly, leaving you even more confused for a second more before he continues. “I made you a playlist.”  

Your brain stalls at how simple he says it—so casual, as if not packed with so much meaning.  

“A playlist? You—wait, why?”  

Jake shrugs, “I don’t know—I guess I just wanted you to hear what I hear when I think about you. Which, by the way, is a lot. So..”  

You blink at the screen, your mouth slightly agape at the boy who's watching you with that lopsided grin that makes it practically impossible to function. You scramble to collect yourself, but the more you try, the worse it gets, and by now, you think he definitely took some secret class on how-to-make-Y/N-completely-flustered.  

And aced it.  

And of course, he notices—because Jake always notices.  

“You okay there?” His voice breaks you out of your overwhelming thoughts, his teasing tone laced with curiosity.  

“Define okay,” you mutter, rubbing a hand over your face in an attempt to cool down the warmth spreading like wildfire across your cheeks. “Because if it means not feeling like a complete fool over a guy who’s halfway across the world, then no, I’m absolutely not okay.”  

Jake lets out a low laugh, the sound affectionate as he leans closer to the camera, the light reflecting off his shining eyes, “If it helps, you’re not the only one losing your mind here.”  

“Oh yeah?” you arch an eyebrow, “What’s your excuse, Sim?”  

“My excuse?” He tilts his head with a small, exaggerated frown, pretending to think. “Hmm…let’s see…I’m hopelessly into this girl who somehow makes being teased fun, who makes me smile just by hearing my name come out her mouth, and who—“  

“Okay! Stop, stop, enough,” your voice strangled as you try to talk through the fit of giggles you couldn’t hold down. “You’re gonna kill me, Jake. Like, actually. I’m not strong enough for this.”  

Jake laughs at your flustered reaction, holding up a hand of surrender, “Fine, fine. But seriously, look.”  

You hear the sound of faint typing in the background before your phone buzzes with a text containing a link.  

“It’s called Songs That Remind Me of Y/N. Creative, right?”  

You open the link, and your thoughts are dazed at the sight of the endless playlist of songs. Some new to you, some you recognize—all of them feeling like little pieces of Jake's heart he's handing to you.  

"I think it's perfect," you murmur softly, scrolling through the titles, the warmth and appreciation for him now feeling almost too overwhelming.  

"Yeah?" Jake's eyes shine with a mixture of pride and hope as he watches your reaction.  

"Yeah," you repeat, switching your phone screen back to his face and giving him a genuine smile. "I love it. Thank you, Jake."  

Jake hums in response, the look on his eyes gentle as a beat of comfortable silence falls between you two.  

"Well, I should probably sleep for real now, but...listen to it when you miss me, okay? Because chances are, I'm probably doing the same."  

You pause, letting the weight of his words settle over you—vulnerable, yet undoubtedly honest. "Deal. I'll listen to it right now, then."  

"Good," his smile grows, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Because I am too. I miss you, too."  

You both linger for a moment, neither wanting to end the call just yet, simply enjoying each other's pure, raw presence.  

"Sweet dreams, Jake," you finally say, your voice gentle as you slowly let sleep take over. 

"Only if they’re about you," he quips, grinning.  

You roll your eyes, your chest feeling lighter, "Go to bed, Sim."  

"Yes, ma'am," he winks, and with one last fond look, he ends the call, leaving you smiling at your screen like the absolute fool he's turned you into.  

"I can't believe you're finally coming back tomorrow," you murmur into the phone, your voice soft but buzzing with excitement as you take in the sight of Jake sprawled out on his bed. The dim glow of his phone highlights just enough of his face to remind you how impossibly cute he is—even with the pillow creases on his cheek.  

"I know," Jake sighs dramatically, flopping onto his side. His head sinks into the pillow, and you hear a soft fwump as he shifts to find a comfortable spot. "I just wish I wasn't landing so late. If I could, I'd come see you the second I land. Like, bags in hand, running to your door."  

"You'd probably trip and knock yourself out with your carry-on, Jake," you snort but then smile, the imagine of Jake rushing to get to you playing in your head.  

"First of all, I'm very athletic," Jake raises an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "Second, that's exactly what would happen, but at least I'd be unconscious on your doorstep, which is still closer to you than I've been in months."  

Your heart does a little flip at the sound of the sincerity in his voice as you try to keep your tone casual, "It's okay, Jake. I'm not going anywhere. We'll see each other the next day? If you're free, maybe."  

Jake's face softens in that stupidly adorable way he always does when he knows you're just trying to play it cool. "Free or not, I'll find a way. Nothing's stopping me from seeing you, Y/N. Not jet lag, not my schedule, not even my manager if he tries to barricade me in the building."  

A giggle escapes you, partly at his sheer determination and partly to cover up the butterflies constantly causing the havoc in your stomach when it comes to him. And Jake, of course, looks all smug, like he knows exactly what he's doing to you. Typical Jake—sweet, determined, and impossibly endearing.  

But as much as his words make your cheeks warm, there's another reason why you're holding back your smile.  

Because, despite what Jake thinks, you're going to see him much sooner than he expects. All thanks to a message you got earlier from the group's manager:  

Y/N! Hope you’re doing well! We all miss you and can’t wait to see you soon! As you know, the boys are returning tomorrow late at night, but the staff and I want to plan a little surprise party at their apartment, they have no idea. The team’s already prepping everything. We’d love for you to come—it wouldn’t be the same without you. 10 PM! See you! 

You're practically vibrating with excitement, each passing minute on the call with Jake making it harder and harder to not just blurt it out and tell him you'll be seeing him in less than 24 hours. And, somehow, hearing his sleepy voice on the other side of the call, completely oblivious, just makes it even harder to contain yourself.  

Jake's brows furrow as he watches you try (and fail) to suppress your grin, "What's up with you? You're smiling so much, and I'm pretty sure I didn't say anything that funny."  

"Me?" You blink innocently, even though your heart skips a beat. But you shrug casually, masking your smile with a feigned yawn. "Nothing's up, you've just been acting too cute tonight. That's all."  

"You're lucky you're cute," Jake narrows his eyes at you, but even you can see through the dim lighting the red creeping across his face, "And that I'm tired. Or else I'd call you out for how you're gaslighting me right now."  

"Gaslighting?!" You sputter out, breaking out into laughter. "How am I gaslighting you for calling you cute?"  

"Because I know you're hiding something—" Jake replies, his pout audible in the way his voice drags. He yawns mid-sentence, the soft sound and the image of his eyes fluttering closed making your heart melt. "—and you're using my sleep-deprived state against me. It's not fair."  

"I'm not hiding anything!" You protest, your face one second away from cracking into a guilty smile. "Go to sleep—you're barely holding it together over there."  

"Like I'd ever fall asleep on you," he mutters, his voice heavy with drowsiness. "You're way too important for that."  

His words hit you like a train, and you have to physically restrain yourself from squealing, burying your face in your pillow before you let out a strangled, "Okay, enough sap for one night, Romeo. Go to bed."  

"Mmhm, fine, fine," Jake hums before he yawns again. "Goodnight, pretty. Dream sweet dreams, okay?"  

You let out a breath, losing the last remaining bits of your composure at this point—but in the best way possible, of course.  

"Goodnight, Jakey. I'll see you soon."  

The day flies by in a whirlwind of anticipation and sheer chaos, the emotional hurricane brewing up inside you rooting from one source and one source only.  

Because ever since you woke up this morning, every step, every sight, every breath was haunted by one inescapable thought: 

Jake.  

The morning was a blur of pacing around your room like a Sims character who was glitching after being told to "Go Here", overthinking every possible scenario for how tonight—when you finally see Jake in person—could go down.  

Because, really—how exactly do you approach the boy you've been friends with for years, who you've fallen for, in a room filled with people, including yours and his closest friends, all while pretending your heart is trying its hardest to not control, alt, delete itself?  

Not exactly something you can Google.  

Like, do you hug him? Does he hug you? What if he doesn't hug you? (Unacceptable, you decide, before pacing faster.)  

By the time afternoon rolls around, you're about 78% sure you've developed three-and-a-half migraines from the sheer pressure of it all. Not to mention, the borderline illegal amount of caffeine coursing through your veins isn't helping—why did you think drinking four cups of coffee was a good idea? (You didn't. Your brain has officially gone rogue.)  

And now, here you are. The buzzing apartment of the boys is alive with the sounds of laughter, the crinkle of party streamers being hung up, and two staff members arguing about where to put the over-dramatically large "WELCOME HOME" banner. You, along with everyone else, await for the signal, passing time by keeping up small conversation with the friends and staff you've gotten to know over the years—all the while you desperately try to keep your nerves from causing a mental crash out right here and now.  

Eventually, one of the staff gets the alert that the group has landed and is minutes away, the energy immediately shifting, both in the apartment and mentally. You settle in place in the back of the crowd, near the door but not too near the door—because 1) you're 99.99% sure you're not emotionally stable enough to be front and center, and 2) the staff and camera crew are already hogging the entrance as if this was the world's greatest comeback (and spoiler alert—to you, it really is.)  

The lights dim, the chatter fades, and the room hums with anticipation. And meanwhile? Your heart won't. Stop. Pounding.  

Any second now.  

Your nerves bubble up even more than you thought is humanly healthy, and you're not sure if you're about to a) pass out, b) puke, c) or both.

Simultaneously.  

The sound of multiple footsteps echoes faintly in the hallway, followed with muffled voices—one of them the unmistakable sound of Jake's laughter. Your breath catches.  

And then the door swings open.  

"SURPRISE!"  

The boys freeze in the doorway, their suitcases still in hand, the looks of genuine, yet pleasant, confusion plastered on all their faces. Sunghoon's eyes dart to the snacks table, Jay looks like he's deciding whether to laugh or roll his eyes, Sunoo is on the verge of tears, and Jake—Jake looks beautifully, stupidly confused.  

Your eyes immediately find Jake's face, like some natural gravitational pull you can't fight, and suddenly it hits you: he's here. In front of you. No blurry video calls, no glitchy Wi-Fi interruptions—just Jake.  

It feels surreal, like you're living in a sugar-induced dream that you aren't sure of is real yet or not. Last time you saw him in person, he was merely just Jake, one of your best friends, your go-to guy for bad jokes and late-night rants about life. But now? Now he's Jake—the boy who's somehow become the main character of your life (and brain capacity) over the past five months.  

Every memory of your late-night calls, every teasing smile, every time his sweet, groggy voice promised he'd prove himself to you—it all comes rushing back. Like those cheesy montage scenes in a rom-com, except instead of a whimsical romantic song playing in the background, it's the sound of your brain, and heart, screaming WHAT NOW Y/N?! 

But then, finally, his eyes land on you.  

The moment your eyes meet, you think your lungs give up on life. Breathing? Never heard of it. It's like someone hit the pause button on the entire universe, and you're convinced that the only thing to ever exist is Jake looking at you with that soft, unreadable expression.  

But you manage half a second of calm—half a second—before that softness on his face disappears. Just as quickly as it appeared, it's replaced by...something else. Something you can't quite put your finger on. Something you've never thought could exist on his face. A flicker of...conflict? Hesitation? Like he's staring straight at you…but also from miles away at the same time.  

His jaw tightens slightly—so slightly only you would notice with how intently you're looking at him—and for a split second, his hands fidgets at his side before he quickly clasps it over the handle of his suitcase. And right as you process it, right as you're about to convince yourself it's just the million grams of caffeine rushing through your blood that's making you hallucinate and see things— 

He looks away.  

He looks away.  

He looks away. As if you're not even standing there, as if he didn't just short-circuit your entire brain. His attention shifts to the nearest staff member, greeting them with a quick nod, and suddenly he's smiling and laughing at something they're saying like nothing just happened.  

And just like that, the universe hits the play button again, and you're left standing there—staring, blinking, wondering if the last thirty seconds of your life was, indeed, a caffeine-induced hallucination after all. Surely. Right?  

Because Jake definitely didn't avoid you on purpose. Nope. Because that would be insane. Insane, you think to yourself, as the invisible angel on your shoulder continues to whisper into your ear the same sweet words Jake's been telling you the past five months about how much he cares for you, how much he likes you—remember all those times he said it?  

Right. Right. Of course, he does. But still, you stand there frozen, trying to ground yourself, even though your hands start fidgeting at your sides anyway. Great. Fantastic. Cool, cool, cool. This is fine. 

You mentally curse yourself for not being closer to the door after all, and then, you mentally curse every single person in this room for not magically gaining telepathic powers and knowing that you, personally, were trying to have a moment.  

It's fine. You'll find him again. He's just too preoccupied with all the staff members and people to greet. Busy Jake. Social Jake. You're just imagining things. Definitely.  

Trying to distract yourself, you glance around the apartment, everything suddenly feeling suffocating. Maybe a snack. Maybe a drink. Maybe a portal to another dimension. 

Shaking your head out of your spiraling thoughts, you bite the inside of your cheek to ground yourself and turn away from the crowd, quickly settling yourself near the beverage table, pouring yourself a cup of...whatever this is—your mind too cloudy to even bother looking at the sign on the table.

You don't know how much time passes, and frankly, you don't even know if you're fully conscious. Your mind is still living in the past, lingering in that moment where you locked eyes with Jake for the first time in five months, and despite all the overthinking you did this morning of all the possible scenarios that could happen—this was not one of them.  

You're about to pour yourself a second drink just to keep your thoughts busy when you feel a tap on your shoulder.  

"Y/N!"  

Before you can fully turn around, you're engulfed in a warm hug, the familiar scent of Jungwon's cologne immediately grounding you, "Oh god, I missed you. Took me forever to find you with all these people."  

"Jungwon!" You exclaim, a genuine smile lighting up your face despite the emotional tug-of-war in your chest, because, of course, leave it to your best friend to immediately ease your inner panic. You squeeze him back, playfully ruffling his hair as you pull away, "I can't believe they made you grow out your hair. Now you actually look older than me for once."  

He stares at you, blinking. "Y/N. I am older than you."  

"Literally by a week. We all know I'm mentally older," you deadpan, crossing your arms.  

"Okay, I take it back. I didn't miss you after all," he scoffs as you laugh, pulling him into another hug for good measure just to annoy him.  

"I'm so glad you guys are back," you say as Jungwon grabs the drink in your hand and takes a sip himself as he listens to you. "I was dying of boredom without you guys."  

Jungwon raises an eyebrow, "Uh-huh. Definitely didn't sound like boredom all those nights you called Jake at 2AM."  

You freeze. Oh. Great. The one topic you were trying to avoid (how you were going to avoid it—given you're at his literal apartment, with his literal group members, and literal staff members that all work for him—you're not sure. Avoidance was a doomed plan from the start, I fear).  

But before you could answer, Jungwon continues, "So...are you guys, like, a thing now? I know you guys were just talking this whole time, but now that we're back, are you guys gonna be in a relationship and all that stuff? Because if so, I need a heads-up. As much I love you both, I don't know if I can stand you two being all couple-y right in front of me—oh, and also—"  

"Jungwon." 

"—if he hurts you in any way, I swear to god I will not hesitate to—"  

"Jungwon!"  

He stops, wide-eyed, before flashing you a sheepish smile. "Sorry. But seriously, what's happening? You haven't given me any updates!"   

You open your mouth to respond, but the words get caught in your throat. Because if he had asked you yesterday—or even an hour ago—you would've been able to answer confidently. But now? After Jake's apparent Olympic-level avoidance of you? You're not so sure anymore.  

"I...I don't know," you mumble, the words barely audible. Jungwon tilts his head, leaning closer to catch them.  

"What do you mean, you don't know? You guys haven't talked about it?" His brows furrowing as he studies your face, clearly picking up on your hesitation in true best friend fashion.  

"I, uh, I haven't...seen him yet," you admit, hoping the crack in your voice doesn't reveal the real reason you haven't approached the boy in question. "Everyone's busy, and I didn't want to get in the way."  

Jungwon gives you a look like you just said the earth is flat.  

"Get in the way? Y/N, you're insane. This is the guy who's been counting down the days to see you. If anything, everyone else is in his way."  

You give him a helpless shrug, but Jungwon isn't having it. He grabs your shoulders and spins you around, pointing across the room to one of the other snack tables past the crowds of people.

"Look. He's right there. Alone. Perfectly free to talk to you. Go."  

Your eyes land on Jake, back facing you and Jungwon, casually scooping chips into a bowl. You hesitate, scanning his relaxed posture, and the knot in your stomach tightens. Because that's exactly the problem. He's perfectly free. And if he's so excited to see you, how come he hasn't spoken to you yet?  

But before you can voice your doubts, Jungwon gives you a not-so-gentle nudge forward, "Go talk to him before I carry you over there myself."  

And next thing you know, Jake's right there. In front of you. His back is to you still, his eyes scanning the various snacks lined on the table, completely unaware of the full-on mental breakdown occurring just behind him.  

This is your moment, you tell yourself, despite the endless alarms going off in your brain. Every single nerve in your body is on high alert, screaming at you to abort mission, abort! But before you can give in to your panic, your hand is already reaching out, lightly tapping his shoulder.  

"Jake!"  

Jake turns around, and for a moment—a fleeting, fragile moment—you catch it. The way his eyes widen slightly at the sight of you. The way his lips part as if they're about to break into that familiar smile you've missed for months. But just as quickly, similar to earlier, it vanishes, replaced by that flicker of hesitation, and it's enough to make your breath catch.  

"Y/N."  

Your name on his lips used to sound like a warm promise. Now?

Now it feels like an afterthought. 

His voice is calm, steady—too steady, stripped of every ounce of emotion, and not at all like someone who's been counting down the days to see you. He rubs the back of his neck, his gaze flickering to the crowd behind you before reluctantly meeting yours, "It's been so long."  

Your stomach sinks. That's all he had to say? You were completely wrong. You spent precisely 23 minutes of your morning debating if he was even going to give you a hug—but now? Screw the hug, he won't even give you a full sentence. Something's off, and your mind races to figure out what happened, as if you missed a major chapter of your own life.  

Trying to ignore the sharp pang of something lodging itself in your chest, you offer a small smile, hoping to break the tension.  

"Are you...okay? I thought...I don't know, I thought you'd be more excited to see me," the words spill out before you can stop them, and you want to crawl into a self-dug hole from how raw and vulnerable you feel.  

Jake shifts uncomfortably, glancing at the floor, then at you, "No, yeah, of course I am. I'm just...really tired. The flight, you know. And all this," he pauses to gesture at the environment around you two, "it's a lot."  

You stare at him in disbelief, waiting for him to crack—silently begging for some sign of the Jake you thought you knew. But all you get is a shrug.  

A shrug.  

Suddenly, his words feel like a punch to the gut, let alone the way he can't even fully look you in the eyes. In just those few seconds, the invisible angel on your shoulder—whose voice sounded just like Jake's—whispering those promises into your ears suddenly disappeared with no trace in sight, as if it was never there—as if it was never yours—in the first place. Every late-night call, every whispered promise, every shared laugh. 

As if they never belonged to you.  

You swallow hard, trying to keep the growing lump in your throat from choking you, hoping your emotional turmoil isn't blatantly obvious to the boy in front of you.  

"Right," you murmur, nodding as if his excuse makes perfect sense. But it doesn't. "That's...understandable."  

The silence that follows is suffocating. Not the comfortable kind of warm silence you two used to share, but the awkward, unbearable kind that makes you claw at your own skin and makes you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole right then and there.  

Jake shifts again, and for a moment, his eyes meet yours. There's something there—but before you can grasp it, a voice from the crowd calls his name.  

"I—I should go," he mutters quickly, stepping back. His voice is quiet, his tone almost apologetic, but his words feel like he's hammering the nails to your coffin. "I'll...see you later though, yeah?"  

He doesn't wait for an answer. He's gone before you can say anything, before you can process his words, and for the second time that night, he leaves you standing there with your heart in pieces and your thoughts in chaos.  

For a moment, you swear you're paralyzed. You can't move. Can't breathe. Your vision blurs as every doubt you'd buried for months comes rushing back, screaming in your face louder and crueler than ever. You've never felt smaller, more foolish.  

Your heart beats erratically now, fighting against the realization of the truth settling in your chest—a  heaviness so suffocating it threatens to take you under. The Jake who stood in front of you just now—guarded, distant, a stranger—was so unlike the boy who had made you laugh until your sides ached, who'd stayed up with you on countless late nights, sharing secrets no one else knew.  

The Jake who made promises.  

Your mind spirals. Maybe...maybe those promises were never meant to be kept. Maybe they were just words to fill the time.  

Maybe you were just someone to fill the time.  

Your breath starts to pick up and you're frantically scanning the room, desperate for an escape from your thoughts through any familiar face. Your eyes finally land on Ni-ki and Heeseung casually sitting on one of the couches, their carefree laughter a stark contrast to your inner implosion. You beeline to them, forcing a smile on your face as you plop down beside them.  

"Y/N!" Ni-ki grins the moment he spots you, scooting over to make room. "Where've you been hiding? Thought you ditched us for good."  

"I've been here,“ you give the boys a small smile, praying they don't notice the way your hands tremble as you sit down, “just...mingling."  

Heeseung raises an eyebrow at the faint crack in your voice, but doesn't push further, "Well, we all missed you. Pizza pig-out sesh and games tomorrow? You can tell us everything we've been missing out on."  

You laugh, trying to keep the conversation light, but it comes out shaky, your voice tight under the weight of your hidden emotions, "I think it's you guys who need to catch me up."  

Ni-ki tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at you, "Are you okay? You look...off. What—did someone spill punch on you? Lemme guess, was it Jake?"  

At his name, the knife in your stomach twists even deeper, and you look away, hoping they don't notice the way your face falls.  

But Heeseung notices. Of course. His gaze sharpens, the playful teasing in his expression replaced with a softened concern, "Y/N...what's going on?"  

"I'm fine," you reply a little too quickly, your voice a little too high. You plaster a smile on your face, turning back towards the two boys, concern written all over their faces. "Just tired. Long day."  

Neither of them look convinced, but before Heeseung can say anything else, Ni-ki nudges him and gestures towards something across the room.  

"Hey...isn't that—"  

You follow Ni-ki's gaze, and you immediately wish you didn't. 

Because just like that, your world crumbles.  

There she is—Jenn.  

You're not even wondering when she got here, how she got here, or even why she's here in the first place. No, not even.  

Because all that's occupying your mind right now is the way she's there, perched comfortably on Jake's lap on one of the couches in the distance, her arm draped casually over his shoulder.  

The way she's laughing freely at something he says, her hand lightly brushing against his as if it's second nature, her fingers briefly pushing a strand of hair away from his face.  

The way Jake doesn't even flinch, the way he doesn't pull away.  

The way he smiles at her.  

That same smile—the one you've spent weeks convincing yourself was yours—now feels like a cruel joke.  

And that does it. For the first time that night, despite all you endured, you shatter.  

You force yourself to look away, but it's too late. Your chest hollows out deeper and deeper with every passing second, until all you're left with is a final realization:  

Maybe you never really had him at all. He was never yours in the first place.  

Ni-ki and Heeseung exchange glances before looking at the expression on your face—all the color drained, as if you were merely just a body, paralyzed. Both of them open their mouths, but nothing comes out, clearly unsure of what to say, but you don't give them the chance. You're already standing, grabbing your bag at your side with trembling hands.  

"Y/N, wait—" Heeseung starts as both him and Ni-ki stand up with you, but you shake your head, his voice distant and muffled as if he's speaking to you underwater.  

"I need some air," you mumble, but you're sure neither of them hear you, your voice barely above a whisper.  

Before they can stop you, you're already weaving through the crowd, your vision blurring as you fight the overwhelming urge to break down. You stop at the door, your eyes quickly scanning the cluttered floor for your shoes. For a moment, you think you've made it—escaped the suffocating air and heartbreak clawing at your throat—but a mistake you didn't mean to make stills you.  

You glance over your shoulder, and there he is.  

Jake's eyes meet yours, and the world comes to a stop. His easy smile slips from his face and is immediately replaced by a flicker of panic, his brows drawing together as if he's just realized something, but you don't stick around to analyze it.  

Not when your heart is already in pieces on the floor.  

You quickly look the opposite way, fighting the sting of burning tears threatening to spill over as your fingers fumble desperately with the zipper of your coat when you hear a concerned voice from behind you.  

"Y/N?" Jungwon's familiar voice cuts through your haze, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. "What—where are you going?"  

"Home," you whisper, avoiding his gaze as you finally manage to get your coat on, turning towards the door.  

Suddenly, Jungwon steps in front of you, a firm frown on his face, "Hey, hey, what's wrong? Talk to me—"  

"Jungwon, I need to go," you look up at him as your voice cracks for the nth time that night, feeling Jake's set of eyes on you still, "Please, Won."  

He hesitates, clearly confused but more worried over anything else, "Okay, but I'm driving you."  

You sigh, shaking your head, "No, it's fine—"  

"I'm driving you," Jungwon repeats, leaving no room for argument as he's already grabbing his coat and walking out the door.  

Not bothering to look behind you to see if Jake's still watching, you follow Jungwon out to the hallway, the chill of the air feeling like a fresh wave of emotions crashing over you all at once: embarrassment, anger, heartbreak.  

You're too caught up in your spinning thoughts to even notice the sound of frantic footsteps behind you until a voice cuts through the silence.  

"Y/N."  

His voice is quiet, almost drowned out by the muffled hum of music and laughter seeping from the party you should've escaped from a long time ago.  

But still, you hear it anyway—because of course you do. Because it's him. And no matter how much you wish you didn't, you'd silence the entire world just to hear that voice.  

And you hate it.  

You hate how your entire body freezes mid-step, you hate how every nerve within you comes alive at the sound of his voice, you hate how your heart stumbles, as if trying to root itself in the pain you've been trying so hard to outrun.  

You turn around slowly, against every ounce of logic telling you to keep walking. And when your eyes land on him—on the raw, desperate, almost broken look on his face—you hate yourself even more.  

Because even now, even after everything, your heart still sinks at the sight. And you hate how you give him the power to break you with just one look.  

“Can we talk?” Jake asks, his voice low and unsteady as he takes a small step towards you.  

From beside you, Jungwon hesitates, his gaze flickering between you and Jake. After a beat, he nods, "I'll get the car. Wait here."  

He spares Jake a final look of warning before nudging you for comfort and stepping into the elevator.  

The elevator doors close, leaving you and Jake alone in the hallway, the air thick with unspoken words and emotions.  

You swallow hard, your throat tight, but you steel yourself, "What do you want, Jake?"  

You shift your weight and instinctively cross your arms, a defensive barrier between you and the boy you spent too long letting into your heart. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the vulnerability in them makes your resolve falter. 

He takes a hesitant step towards you before exhaling shakily, running a hand through his hair.  

“I—I messed up tonight. I didn’t mean to...," he trails off, his words fumbling, his eyes searching yours in desperation, his heart breaking at the way your tears are a second away from falling over. 

"...to completely ignore me all night? Make me feel like nothing?" You finish for him, your quiet voice breaking despite your attempt to stay composed.  

"No. God, no. You're not nothing," he says quickly, his voice faltering on the last word. "Y/N, you matter so much to me."  

“Well it definitely didn't feel that way,” your voice is barely audible, but you finally look up at him, the hurt finally bubbling to the surface. “After everything you said—promised, everything we talked about…” 

"I know, I just—" he hesitates, his voice barely above a whisper. He takes a tentative step closer, his movements slow and careful, like he's afraid you'll break if he gets too close. "I was nervous." 

"It’s been so long, and I didn’t know what to say, how to act. I wanted to get it right—to make it perfect—but instead, I just—" he stops, dragging another frustrated hand through his hair. His eyebrows knit together in that familiar way that once made your heart flutter, but now only adds to the ache in your chest. 

You let out a hollow laugh, the bitter sound foreign even to your own ears, “Well, congratulations, Jake. You managed to mess it up anyway.” 

“Please,” he looks devastated, his hands trembling at his sides. “Y/N, please don’t think I don’t care about you. I do. More than you know. I just—I don't know how to do this. I panicked and I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear."  

"Then why was...," you look at him, your eyes still stinging from all the unshed tears as you take a shaky breath, “...why was she all over you tonight? Why didn’t you stop her?” 

He falters, his shoulders slumping under the weight of your question, “It wasn’t what it looked like. I didn’t—I couldn’t—” 

“You couldn’t,” you echo, the words spilling out in a rush now, each one cutting him deeper. “I should've known. Let me guess, she wants to get back together, right?"  

Jake's silence is deafening, and it immediately answers your question. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. The way he looks at you—eyes wide and filled with regret, lips trembling as if searching for the right words—confirms everything you were afraid of. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, a shaky breath escaping your lips—a sound caught somewhere between a scoff and a choked sob. No matter how hard you try, the wall holding back your emotions cracks under the weight of it all. The doubts you’ve tried so hard to bury suddenly resurface, crashing over you like waves, each one carrying the sting of every insecurity, every fear you’ve ever had about this moment. Your chest feels tight, your heart splintering under the realization that everything you were afraid of might be true. 

"Jake, I can't do this," you whisper, shaking your head. "I can't be the person you lean on while you try to figure out what you want."  

"No, no—Y/N, I do know what I want," he pleads, his voice cracking as he tries to step closer. "And it’s you. Always been you, Y/N. Everything I said—I meant it."  

His words hang heavy in the air, the faint echo of the party music filtering through the cracks in the door and into the quiet hallway. You look away, refusing to let him see the way your tears finally spill over.  

"You promised," you let out softly and slowly, through your sniffles. “You promised you wouldn't hurt me. You said you'd prove that I could trust you, that I didn't have to be scared. You knew I was worried, Jake. And you...you hurt me anyways."  

"And I swear I meant every word I said. I still do," Jake says, his voice desperate as he shakes his head. He steps even closer, his hand reaching out and brushing against yours, but you pull back before he can close the distance. "You have to believe me. Please, Y/N. You're the only one."  

You shake your head again, the tears now freely rushing down your cheeks despite your best efforts, "I—I don't know if I can believe that anymore, Jake. I want to, I really, really do. But tonight..."  

Jake’s face falls, the weight of your pain crashing into him all at once. His lips tremble as he struggles to hold himself together, his eyes turning glassy themselves. The sight of you—broken, because of him—cuts deeper than he thought was humanly ever possible. His voice is barely above a whisper, raw and pleading, “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I—God, please. Please give me a chance.” 

You look at him—at the boy who became your safe space these past few months—and all you feel is the ache in your heart.  

"I can't do this right now, Jake," you finally let out through your broken voice as you take a step back. "I think I just need space."  

The words hang in the air like a death sentence. His breath hitches as if your words physically hit him in the face, "Y/N..." 

Your phone suddenly buzzes, a text from Jungwon letting you know he's outside. You glance down at it, then back at Jake. For a moment, you hesitate, your heart screaming at you to stay—to give him the chance he's yearning for. But your brain knows better. 

"I have to go," you murmur softly, as you take a final step back, turning away before more tears threaten to spill all over again. You force yourself to keep walking, fighting the overwhelming urge to look back—to let him pull you into his arms, where you wished so desperately you belonged.  

Frozen, Jake watches helplessly as you walk away, his chest tightening with every step you take. Everything feels like it's caving in, regret clawing at him the more he lets you walk further away. He opens his mouth to say something—anything—but the words fail him, silenced by the weight of his own mistakes.  

To Jake, the sounds of the party are now far in the distance, drowned out by the pounding in this ears. Instead, the hallway falls into a haunting silence, broken only by the faint echo of your retreating steps—a cruel reminder of what he's just let slip away.  

The car ride starts in complete silence, the only sound between you and Jungwon the soft hum of his engine and the faint sound of whatever playlist he was playing in the background. You stare out the window, watching the city lights blur together, your coat clutched tightly under your grasp as if it's the only thing keeping you sane.  

Jungwon glances at you out the corner of his eye, his hands steady on the steering wheel. He doesn't say anything at first, but you know him well enough to sense the storm brewing in his head.  

"Okay," he finally says, as if on cue, breaking the silence. "Spill."  

You don't respond, your eyes still fixed on the surrounding city breezing by you, as if the passing view could somehow erase the memory of him. Your fingers dig further into the fabric of your coat, your knuckles going numb.  

Jungwon gives you a few more moments of silence, but when you don't make any sign of responding, he speaks up again. 

"Y/N," his voice softens, but the edge of his concern cuts through. "Don't do that thing where you shut people out. Especially me, you know I hate that."  

"I'm not—" you start, but your voice wavers, and the lie dies on the tip of your tongue.  

“You are," he exhales sharply from beside you, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "Look, you don't have to tell me everything, but don't pretend you're fine when you're clearly not."  

The words sit heavy in the air as you swallow hard, your throat burning as you finally whisper, "It's stupid, Jungwon."  

He doesn't take his eyes off the road, but his tone is firm, "I'm sure if it's got you looking like this, it's not stupid."  

You want to argue, to tell him to just let it go, but the hurt pressing down on your chest is too much. The ache in your body threatens to take over again, and you hate it. You hate how the tears form again, how you can still see Jake looking at you like that, like you were breaking right in front of him and he didn't know how to stop it.  

Jungwon waits. He doesn't push, because he knows you. He knows you're just hurting, struggling to grasp your overwhelming emotions, so he gives you the time you need. But his quiet patience is unbearable, like he's peeling back every layer of your resolve just by being there, and eventually, you give in.  

"It's Jake," you finally choke out, the name tumbling from your lips like a curse.  

Jungwon doesn't respond immediately, but you can feel the shift in his demeanor. His jaw tightens, and his fingers flex against the wheel, "I figured as much honestly, after what I saw in the hallway, but what exactly happened, Y/N?"  

You shake your head, your voice shaky, "It doesn't matter. I—I just feel so stupid, Won. Like, how could I think..." 

You trail off, biting the inside of your cheek hard enough to draw blood. Jungwon gives you a softened glance, signaling you to continue whenever you're ready to.  

You take a deep breath before you speak up again, "How could I ever think I was good enough for him, you know?"  

There's a silence that follows after your words and you hear Jungwon take in a deep inhale.  

"This isn't on you, Y/N. This has nothing to do with whether you're enough or not," Jungwon's voice is steady, but there's a firm edge to it now. "Look, I don't want to overstep or anything...and I definitely don't want to vouch for him—especially right now but...are you sure he's not just freaking out?"  

You tilt your head over at the boy next to you, "Freaking out about what?"  

"You," Jungwon says simply like it's the most obvious thing in the world.  

"That doesn't make any sense," you start shaking your head. "Why would he—"  

"Because you're you," Jungwon interrupts, his tone matter-of-fact as he keeps his eyes trained on the road in front of him. "And Jake's a complete idiot, but even idiots get scared when they care about someone as much as he clearly cares about you."  

You blink, Jungwon's words sinking into all the cracks formed within you, "You really think he cares about me that much?"  

“Are you kidding?” Jungwon scoffs, his expression a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “Y/N, the guy looks at you like you hung his moon and stars. Trust me, I’ve seen it.” 

And you don't know what comes over you, but Jungwon's words hit you like a punch to the gut, and suddenly, the tears you've been holding back come rushing forward, hot and relentless. You cover your face with your hands, your body shaking as the sobs you've been swallowing all night finally make their way out.  

Jungwon quickly looks over at you and, without hesitation, glances over his shoulder to pull over to the side of the road, the soft clicking of the hazard lights mixing in with your cries. When he finally puts the car in park, he doesn't say anything and just leans back in his seat, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder—close enough to remind you he's there, but not too much to smother you.  

"I'm sorry," you manage to gasp out between sobs, your hands going up to wipe your face as all the overwhelming emotions finally take over you.  

"Don't," Jungwon says firmly, "Don't apologize for feeling like this."  

You take a shaky breath, trying to pull yourself together as your sobs eventually start to slow down, "I just don't understand. If he cares so much, why does this hurt so bad?"  

"I don't think it's about how much he cares," Jungwon sighs, as if carrying your pain alongside you. "Sometimes...sometimes people care so much that they don't know what to do with it. They panic. They overthink. And they mess up in the worst ways because they don't know how to handle what they're feeling."  

You look up at him, your face still wet with tears, "So you're saying it's an excuse."  

"No," Jungwon replies, quickly shaking his head fervently. "Definitely not an excuse. Jake screwed up, Y/N. Big time. And it's 100% on him to fix that, not you. But—"  

He pauses and thinks for a second, his words deliberate, "—it doesn't mean his feelings aren't real. Or that he doesn't care about you."  

You look away, glancing down at your hands in your lap, fiddling with the hem of your coat as you take in Jungwon's words.  

"It's just feels like...like I'm the only one who got hurt here, Won. Like I'm the only one who..," you trail off, unable to form your thoughts into a coherent sentence, but leave it up to Jungwon to always fully understand you.  

"You're not the only one," he says softly. "He's hurting too, Y/N. Maybe not in the same way, and maybe he doesn't deserve any sympathy, but I can see it. I've seen it. Jake...Jake isn't Jake without you. And honestly? That idiot is probably tearing himself apart right now."  

Your lips part, but the words don't find you. Instead, you let the weight of Jungwon's words sink in, unsure what to do with how true they may be.  

"You don't have to forgive him right now," Jungwon adds after a moment. "Hell, you don't even have to forgive him at all. Honestly, that might satisfy me just a bit. But maybe...maybe you owe it to yourself to hear him out. Not for him, but for you."  

You turn to Jungwon, your lips forming into the smallest pout, "But what if it just makes everything worse?"  

He gives you a faint, grounding smile, equal parts reassuring and honest.  

"Then you walk away knowing you did everything you could—for yourself. And if it does come to that," he shrugs lightly, "we'll figure it out together."  

You're quiet for a long moment, the thought of walking away from Jake and everything he means to you terrifying you…but you know Jungwon's right. You owe yourself the chance to try—even if the unknown outcome fails you.  

With a shaky breath, you nod, brushing away the last of your tears, "Thanks, Jungwon."  

"You're welcome," Jungwon hums in acknowledgement before his lips curve into a small grin, the atmosphere lightening slightly, "but, uh, could you at least use the tissues in the glove compartment before my seats turn into a snot rag?"  

You manage to let out a small scoff of disbelief as you roll your watery eyes, "You're the worst."  

"Nah," Jungwon replies with a cheeky grin as he shifts the car back into drive, but not before he reaches over to ruffle your hair playfully. "C'mon. Let's get you home."  

The knocking at Jungwon’s door comes at the worst possible moment. 

He’s halfway through organizing his desk—something he only attempts when he’s too frustrated to sit still—and the last thing he expects to see when he swings the door open is Jake, standing there looking like he hasn’t slept a millisecond all night. 

Jungwon makes no sign of saying anything or making a move, just staring at the older boy in question. Jakes shifts uncomfortably, running a hand through his messy hair, not used to seeing Jungwon in this sour, expressionless mood.  

"Hey," Jake finally says, his voice hesitant.  

“What do you want?” Jungwon deadpans, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He knows he sounds harsh, but, frankly, he doesn’t care.  

Jake falters for a moment, his gaze dropping to the ground, "I...I need your help."  

Jungwon's eyes narrow, "With what, exactly?"  

He knows what, but he's not letting Jake off that easily. Not after last night.  

"With Y/N," your name hangs in the air between them as Jake's voice cracks, and Jungwon clenches his jaw before he lets out a frustrated sigh.  

"I don't think you're in any position to be asking me for help right now."  

"I know," Jake says quickly, his hands raising in surrender. "I know, okay? I screwed up big time. I—God, I don't even know where to start, Jungwon. I just...I don't want to make things worse."  

Jungwon lets out a bitter, humorless laugh, stepping back and motioning his head to let Jake enter his room, "You've already got a good head start on that, I see."  

Jake steps inside, awkwardly hovering near the door as Jungwon moves to sit on the edge of his own bed. He doesn't offer Jake a seat, and Jake doesn't ask for one.  

"She cried, you know," Jungwon says after a few moments of silence, his voice stone cold. "I had to pull over because she couldn't even hold it together long enough for me to get her home. I've known her my entire life, and I don't think I've ever seen her cry that hard, Jake."  

Jake flinches, the words physically hurting him, "I didn't mean to—"  

"Yeah, I know," the younger boy cuts him off, his voice sharp, his anger rising on behalf of you. "You didn't mean to hurt her. But you did. And now you're asking me to help you fix it like it's that easy."  

"It's not easy," Jake mutters quietly, his hands fumbling with the edge of his hoodie. "Nothing about this...none of it is easy. But I know I messed up, and I—I can't just leave things like this, I can't lose her, Jungwon. I care about her too much."  

Jungwon deadpans at his friend, fighting back the urge to scoff in his face, "If you cared about her, you wouldn't have let her walk out of that party looking like her entire world was falling apart."  

Jake looks up, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with something Jungwon can't quite name...desperation, maybe. Or guilt. Or both.  

"I didn't know what to do," Jake finally admits, his voice still barely above a whisper, as if admitting to himself for the first time, too. "I saw her, and she looked so...broken. And I—I panicked, I didn't know what to do, and by the time I realized, she was gone."  

Jungwon leans back, groaning as he runs a hand over his face. The anger bubbling within him hasn't fully faded, but he knows there's something else now—something softer, something that makes it harder to keep his protective guard for you up.  

Because he knows Jake isn't lying.  

"You don't get to half-ass this, Jake," Jungwon finally says after he thinks to himself. "She's not some random girl you're trying to impress, she isn't Jenn. This is Y/N. If you want to fix things, you have to be ready to own up to everything. No excuses, no backing out. She deserves that much."  

Jake nods quickly, his eyes wide and hopeful at Jungwon's slight change in demeanor, “I will. I swear, I will.” 

"And don't think she's going to forgive you right away," Jungwon adds. "She's hurt. You have to give her time. This isn't about what you want—it's about what she needs."  

Jake swallows hard, nodding again, “I just want to talk to her. To explain. To tell her I’m sorry and—”  

His voice cracks, and he looks down, his hands trembling slightly. Jungwon lets out a sigh, his mixed feelings turning more into something closer to pity. Because as much as he wants to stay mad for your sake, he's known Jake long enough to know that he's a good guy—and that his heart is in the right place.  

But even more than that, he knows you. And he knows how much Jake means to you, even if you won't admit it, especially not now more than ever.  

"You're actually an idiot," Jungwon says after a few beats, his voice carrying a lighter tone now. "But for some godforsaken reason, knowing her, I think she might actually miss you."  

Jake looks up from his hands, his eyes searching Jungwon's face for any flicker of doubt, "You really think so?"  

Jungwon shrugs, standing up and moving towards his door, "I think you've got a lot of work to do if you want to earn her trust back. But...I think you still have a chance."  

Jake doesn't say anything as he follows Jungwon to the door, but the look on his face says enough—there's a new slight look of hope. It's small, but he's clutching onto it like it’s his lifeline.  

“You know," Jungwon says when he reaches the doorway. "Y/N’s not the type to let people in easily. She puts up walls—but with you…she let them down. You’re special to her, Jake, even if she doesn’t say it. Don’t throw that away. For her sake, and yours.” 

“I won’t,” Jake promises, his voice steady now. “Thank you, Jungwon.” 

Jungwon nods at the older boy before giving him a faint smile, "And just so you know, I defended you yesterday. So don't prove me wrong or I'm actually going to deck you."  

Jake lets out a weak laugh as he hangs outside Jungwon's door, "Noted. I promise I won't let her down again."  

Jungwon doesn’t respond, just closes the door with a soft click, and hopes—for all their sakes—that Jake means it.  

Jake [5:12PM]: hi Y/N   Jake [5:12PM]: i know I'm the last person you want to hear from right now. and i don’t blame you at all   Jake [5:13PM]: but i cant just stay silent and let this sit between us, and i value you too much to not respect you needing space and just show up at your door  Jake [5:14PM]: even though it’s killing me to stay away  Jake [5:14PM]: after you left the party last night, i went back inside. i told jenn that whatever we had in the past is exactly that, the past. and i swear to you, Y/N, there’s nothing between us. there hasn’t been for a long time. and it’s my fault for making it seem otherwise.   Jake [5:15PM]: and as for how i acted…i don’t even know where to start. i fucked up extremely. nothing will excuse my actions and i don’t expect you to forgive me. but i need to apologize properly, you deserve that much.   Jake [5:17PM]: please let me see you, Y/N. i don’t deserve it, and i don’t deserve you. but you mean everything to me, and i hate that i hurt you. and i promise, if you let me, i’ll do everything to make it up to you.  

You stare at the phone in your hand, the messages feeling like salt to an open wound. The words on the screen begin to blur together as tears prick your eyes, spilling over before you even realize it. You don't bother wiping them away—the sting in your chest too raw, too heavy. Each word feels like Jake is standing right there in front of you, his voice soft and broken, tangled with regret.  

You tell yourself to stop reading. You've already gone through the same messages at least a hundred times in the past ten minutes, overanalyzing each syllable as if they hold the answers to all of your questions.  

And yet, you can't stop.  

You want to be angry. You are angry. Or, at least, you think. Because beneath the flame of your anger that's already threatening to die out? There's an ache you can't ignore—a small, stubborn part of you that refuses to let go to the sincerity in his words, clinging onto the hope that he's telling you the truth.  

You mean everything to me, and I hate that I hurt you. I promise, if you let me, I'll do everything to make it up to you.  

The ache twists harder, curling into doubt. What if he means it? What if he's telling the truth?  

But of course, the fear rises just as quickly. Because what if he's not? What if you let him back in, and it all falls apart again? What if you let yourself believe in him, giving him the second chance he's asking for, only to have your heart shattered worse than before?  

And then, there's Jungwon's voice, soft but steady, cutting through the chaos brewing in your mind: "Even idiots get scared when they care about someone as much as he clearly cares about you."  

Your breath catches.  

Because that's the worst part. Knowing that maybe—just maybe—Jake really does care. Knowing that maybe he's telling the truth—and you're the one too afraid to take the risk, ready to build up the walls Jake's managed to get through.  

Your phone screen suddenly dims, pulling you out of your thoughts and back into the moment. You blink rapidly, wiping at your face, your mind a mess of emotions you can't untangle or describe.  

Fear. Hope. Doubt. 

And something else—something you're afraid to admit, but you know is unmistakably real.  

And it's stronger than the fear churning in your chest—it's something that's pulling you forward.  

Your heart pounds almost out of your rib cage as you let out a shaky breath, the weight on your shoulders pressing harder and harder with every second you hesitate. The ache doesn't let up, but neither does your hope.  

So you stop thinking altogether, letting your heart take control instead.  

You shut your eyes, as if bracing yourself for a crash, take a deep breath, unlock your phone, and let your fingers fly across the screen, each word feeling like a leap off a cliff.  

You hit send.  

Y/N [5:30PM]: hi jake  Y/N [5:30PM]: you can come over 

The soft knock at your door startles you, even though you know it’s coming.  

“Y/N?” 

His voice. Jake’s voice.  

Your heart clenches painfully, a conflicting mix of longing and hurt washing over you all at once. It hasn't even been a full day since the party, but the weight of his absence has already hollowed you out, leaving a hole you can't ignore. You know he's the one who caused it—that the cracks in your heart are his doing—but at the same time, the stubborn part of you whispers that he's also the only one who can mend them.  

You make your way to the door, your movements hesitant as you crack it open, peek out, and...there he is.  

"Hi," Jake says softly.  

He's a mess. A beautiful, saddened mess—his hair messy, like he's been running his hands through it all day, his eyes rimmed with the kind of exhaustion that isn't just physical. One hand is buried deep in his jacket, and in the other— 

"Flowers?" You ask, raising a brow in surprise.  

Jake's ears turn red. "Yeah. Uh, I didn't know if you had a favorite, so I got—"  

You open the door wider, revealing the full bouquet—daisies, tulips, roses, all wrapped together in crinkled tissue paper.  

"—a little bit of everything," he finishes awkwardly, his voice trailing off, pausing for a second before holding them out to you with a sheepish smile.  

Your lips twitch subconsciously, despite everything.  

"Jake, you're literally allergic."  

His mouth opens, then closes, the redness from his ears now spreading to his cheeks.  

"Well, yeah, but—," Jake mumbles, shifting on his feet. "—not, like, deadly or anything dramatic like that."  

He pauses, his voice dropping into something softer, more vulnerable, "I just wanted you to have them. That's all."  

You feel your insides tighten, the sincerity in his voice getting to you. For a moment, all you can manage to do is stare at him—at the way his eyes are silently pleading, wide and unsure.  

You hesitate for a second, then step back and open the door wider.  

"Thank you," you say quietly, your fingers brushing against his as you take the bouquet, sending a flicker of warmth through you. "Come in."  

Jake hesitates, his eyes searching yours like he's not sure if he's actually allowed to. When you turn away and walk towards your kitchen, he finally steps inside, kicking off his shoes quickly and hovering by the door like he doesn't know what to expect next.  

You set the flowers down on the counter, adjusting them carefully before turning back to him. He's still standing there, stiff and uncertain, the distance between you feeling larger than ever before.  

"So..." You say, crossing your arms tightly across yourself, shifting your weight as a way to ground yourself—though the lump in your throat makes it feel impossible.  

Jake exhales shakily, his hands fidgeting by his sides and gaze darting to the floor before finally landing on you, "I came to apologize. Properly."  

You blink at him, expression unreadable, "You already said sorry."  

Your voice comes out sharper than intended, surprising even yourself, but the words leave before you can stop them. Jake flinches, just slightly, but he nods, knowing he deserved that. 

"Not like I should have," he says, stepping closer, his voice low and careful, like he's afraid you'll run out of your own apartment. "I know I messed up. I hurt you, and I hate that I did. I hate that I made you feel like you weren't enough or that someone else could ever compare to you, Y/N."  

Your arms tighten around yourself as if the words might knock the breath out of you as look away, unsure if you can meet the rawness in his eyes.  

"Last night," Jake continues, his eyes filling with guilt, "I didn't handle last night right. And not just how I handled Jenn, but I let my own insecurities and stupid fears of being perfect for you get in the way. I let it happen and mess everything up. I let you think that you didn't matter to me, and I will never forgive myself, Y/N."  

His words hang in the air, heavy yet sincere, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him as you process his words slowly.  

"And I don't expect you to forgive me either, Y/N," Jake's voice wavers before he continues, "but I need you to know that I'm so, so sorry. No excuses. For all of it—for making you feel like anything less than everything, for making you feel like you weren't my first choice. Because you are. You're my only, Y/N." 

His words hit you with a force that crashes over the walls you tried so desperately to build. They're overwhelming yet tender, like rediscovering a piece of yourself you hadn't even realized you lost. And you want to let them comfort you, you do. But the pain from last night lingers deep down, reminding you of why you built those walls in the first place.  

For a moment, the silence stretches on longer than you intend, the weight of his words settling in the air between you. Jake doesn't look away though—his gaze unwavering, vulnerable, and raw.  

As though he's laid himself bare before you, giving you the power to either accept or shatter him completely.  

When you finally find your voice, it trembles despite your best efforts, "Jake...I don't know if I can just forget what happened."  

"I'm not asking you to forget," he says quickly, taking another step closer until there's only a few feet left between you. "I just want the chance to fix us. I can't lose you like this, Y/N."  

Your breath catches at the proximity, his presence pulling you in like gravity. The pain from last night tries to claw its way back into your heart—sharp and bitter—but his warmth reminds you of something else that refuses to be ignored.  

That flicker of hope that's demanding your attention, screaming at you to just let him in—not just for his sake, but for you. 

You take a deep breath, finally meeting his gaze. "Jake, I don't need you to...to be this perfect person. I don't need you to prove anything to me."  

You pause, pushing past the lump in your throat, "Because since the beginning, I always believed you. And...I think I still do. Even after last night, I still believe you, Jake. No matter how hard I try to."  

Jake lets out a breath he thinks he's been holding in for hours, "Really?"  

"Yeah," you nod slowly, as if reassuring yourself as much as him. "But I don't need any of your promises or proof or any of that. I just...I just need you as you."  

His eyes soften at you as he nods so quickly it's almost desperate.   

"And I need you to be honest with me, Jake," you continue before he can speak. "If we do this, I need to know I can trust you. Because I don't know if I can do this...this waiting game anymore."  

"You can," he says immediately, closing the distance between you two, making your breath hitch. You can see the way his hands are trembling, the slight quiver in his lips. "You can trust me. No more hesitation. I'm all in, Y/N. This is it for me, you're it."   

You search his face for any sign of doubt, any speck of hesitation. But all you find is his sincerity—so hopeful and so real—the kind that makes you want to let him in fully and let your walls crumble all over again.  

So you do.  

"Okay," you say softly, almost as if you're testing the word.  

Jake's eyes widen, the relief and hope flooding his features. Slowly, as if asking for permission, he reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours tentatively.  

"Okay?" He whispers, his voice barely audible to you as his eyes flicker between your hands and your face.  

You nod, your own hand turning over so your fingers curl around his in an instinctive gesture that feels so natural it makes you want to scream. The warmth of his touch feels like the first real comfort you've felt in forever, and it's enough to make your resolve slip.  

"But," you add softly, your eyes not leaving the way his hand wraps around yours so perfectly, "this doesn't mean everything's fine. We need to talk. We need to figure out where we stand, and where we go from there."  

Jake nods again, his grip on your hand tightening slightly, "We will. Whatever it takes, Y/N, I'll do it. I need you to know how much you mean to me and I'll never stop trying to show you that."  

You let out a shaky breath as you take in his words, finally looking up from your intertwined hands to meet his eyes, your own slowly filling with the tears you've been holding back. 

"You really hurt me, Jake," you say quietly, your voice breaking from the sheer weight of your vulnerability being laid bare.  

Jake's face crumbles instantly, guilt etched into every line of his expression. Without hesitation, his free hand comes up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb light brushing away the tears that fall, as if he's afraid you might pull away.  

Your eyes flutter closed at the warmth of his hand, and despite the emotions raging inside you, you let yourself lean into him. It feels both reckless, yet inevitable, like free-falling and trusting—knowing—he'll catch you.  

"I know," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion he can't swallow down. "And I'll spend as long as it takes to deserve you, Y/N. I'll never make you feel like that again."  

You nod weakly, and before you can think too much, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into the safety of his chest, his chin moving to rest on top of your head as his warmth envelops you completely.  

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself break, burying your face into his chest as the tears flow freely, the weight of everything finally breaking free as you let yourself melt into his tight embrace.  

It's not perfect. It's not a fix-all.  

But as Jake holds you close, whispering quiet reassurances into your hair, you know it's a start.  

And a start is all you need.  

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

epilogue:

“Hi, pretty.”  

“Hi, Jake.”

On the other end of the call, Jake lets out a playful scoff. Even with the slight lag, you can see his lips twitch into that familiar pout—the one that still gives you butterflies, no matter how many times you've see it now, even a year later.

“After all we’ve been through, you still won’t give me a cute pet name?” 

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin, “What do you want me to say? Hi, my handsome, perfect, kindest, funniest, boyfriend in the whole wide world?”  

Jake leans closer to the camera, his expression completely serious as if you should already know his answer, "...Yes." 

Giggles burst out of you, shaking your head at his antics. “You’re too cute to be doing all that, Jake. Pick a struggle.” 

He clutches his chest dramatically, “You know, what? You’re my struggle—I fly across time zones, run on three hours of sleep, and you still won’t give me a crumb of your affection?” 

“You’re exhausting.” 

“And yet…,” Jake trails off with a teasing smirk, his voice dropping into that playful, yet low lilt that still makes your stomach flip to this day. "Here you are, calling me at 1AM in the morning.”  

Your cheeks flush as you glance away from the screen, trying to ignore the way his teasing gaze makes you feel, "Don’t' get confused, it's not like I wanted to or anything. I just figured someone should remind you to go to bed or else you'll look like a zombie tomorrow at the fanmeet."  

Jake laughs softly, the sound grounding you in a certain way only he ever can. "You're so thoughtful, babe. My number-one hater and number-one fan, all at once. I'm so lucky."  

You send him an air kiss, the teasing grin on your face mirrored by the fond one tugging at his lips. He looks at you like he did in that first-ever call way back then—like you're his whole world, and he can't believe you're real.  

"How's the jet lag this time?" You ask, steering the conversation to safer ground.  

"It's not so bad," he shrugs, despite the clear exhaustion in his voice. "At least this trip is only for a few days. Then I can come back to the comfort of our bed."  

You raise an eyebrow, "My bed."  

Jake's eyes narrow, "Our bed. Just admit it—you miss me."  

You pause. "Maybe. Just a little."  

His grin widens, and for a moment, neither of you say anything, the conversation lulling into an easy silence—the kind of warmth that only comes with knowing someone so well.  

Finally, you shift under your blanket, getting comfortable as Jake watches you through this screen, his gaze tender, as though memorizing the curve of your smile, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear.  

"You should sleep," you murmur, holding your phone closer to your face. The glow of your phone reflecting off your soft features sends palpations to Jake's chest so loud he almost doesn't hear your words. 

"Mm, I really should," Jake sighs, though he doesn't move an inch. "I'll talk to you soon, yeah?" 

"Mmhm," you hum, your eyes closing at the softness of his voice.  

“Sleep tight. I love you,” his says, voice soft and deliberate, making sure you feel every word. 

“Goodnight, Jakey,” you tease, letting the smirk creep into your voice, peeking an eye open just to catch his reaction. 

Jake groans dramatically, running a hand down his face, “Y/N…not this again.”  

You giggle, the fondness within you growing tenfold as you take in his face—the slight pout of his lips, his messy hair, his eyes shining with unwavering adoration for you. 

“I said I love youuu,” he whines, dragging out the last word, his lips tugging into the tiniest of smiles, his entire universe reflecting from his eyes.  

Finally, you give in, smiling sweetly.  

“I love you, too, Jake. You already know.”  

And you’ve never meant anything more.  

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

Songs that Remind me of Y/N:

From the first call to forever—you've always been my favorite melody.   Yours, Jake <3

"As I Am" – Justin Bieber (ft. Khalid)  

"Daylight" – Taylor Swift 

"DIE 4 YOU" - Dean 

"Psycho, Pt. 2" – Russ 

"Heaven" – Bazzi 

"Every Kind of Way" – H.E.R. 

"Off My Face" – Justin Bieber 

"Before You" – Benson Boone 

"Sunflower" – Post Malone & Swae Lee 

"Pink + White" – Frank Ocean

"No Doubt" – Enhypen <3 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

update! if you enjoyed this and want more of no doubt!jake & y/n, check out my sequel series linked here for drabbles of their relationship <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

the end! if you made it all the way, this is for you:

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡♡♡♡♡♡

p.s. i wanted to leave the ending kinda up to interpretation—hence the time skip to a year later..but lowkey what if i wrote short drabbles/scenes of things jake does to gain Y/N's trust again, from small to big gestures etc etc..lmk if that's something anyone would wanna see !! (update — linked above now!)

<3, addie

m.list here!

tag list (love you all <3):

(i hope it let me tag everyone!)

@thesassy-mia @ikeulove @renaishun @xylatox @puma-riki @blackberryrains @dreamiestay @junislqve @lamin143 @dreamy-carat @etherealhan @vvenusoncasual @belovedsthings @somuchdard @sumzysworld @mirouie @almondtofu006 @fancypeacepersona @vivimura @hollxe1 @missthang600 @sugarikiz @sanasour @enhamonsterghoul @etherealriki

[quimichi]

⌗﹒THEIR VOICE LINES ABOUT YOU ౨ৎ˚₊‧ GN!

Aether

❝Since the beginning of Mondstadt they've been with me. They actually turned out to be my second guide! Which makes Paimon even more of an emergency food❞

❝Whaa-Paimon will pretend Paimon didn't hear that!❞

❝No really, I'm glad I found them...or rather they found me. It really wasn't much of a surprise when I-oh-I'm already talking too much again.❞

❝Traveler can go shy when he talks about his lover, hehe. STOP PULLING ME AWAY-H-HEY-!❞

Albedo

❝Oh? I see, you already heard about Y/n. Well, its not a big of a surprise, they're well known here in Mondstadt. Don't worry, if you ever encounter them, dont be shy to talk to them. They have actually been a great help for my researches and experiments. ❞

Al-Haitham

❝ Y/N? Yes, what about them? Yes, we're in a relationship, and? No, I'm not mad, why? I'm asking to much questions? Could ask you that, you seem awfully interested in my partner. Passive aggressive? Pff, now you're just pretending things. ❞

Ayato

❝ You'd like to know more about Y/n? What makes you think I have answers? Oh? I see, Ayaka has told you about it, well...Me and Y/n have been in a relationship for quite a while now. They're a very good support, doesn't matter what path i take or decisions I make, they always have my back. Without them I wouldn't be half the man I am right now. Satisfied with this answer? ❞

Baizhu

❝ The person that always helps out here is not some assistant. Don't worry, I'm sure they're not insulted. Who else are they then? Oh, my lover. Whats with that surprised look on your face? Didn't think I'd be taken? To be frank...I'm quite surprised too that I got this lucky.❞

Bennett

❝ Y/n? My lucky charm? They're awesome! A loyal member in Benny's adventure team...the only one though...They go on every adventure with me! Saved my life multiple times! Bring me good furtune! And are my partner! Wow, I really lucked out for real this time.❞

Capitano

❝ I'd like to keep my private life as private as possible...but for you I make an exception, just this once. Yes, Y/n is my life partner, my lover if you'd like to put it that way. I hold them very dear and would protect them with my life if i have to. So, if I ever sense any bad intentions coming from you, I will crush you with everything I've got.❞

Childe

❝ They spend last winter with me and my family. So, to show them around and make them feel more comfortable in Snezhnaya we had a little snowball fight. Y/n got hit a dozen times in the face by Teucer. They lost, obviously. But the best part was, when we went home, the slipped right before the door and fell ass first to the ground...but instead of being upset or annoyed...they laughed. I knew they we're the one right then and there.❞

Chongyun

❝ Oh you know Y/n? Well, I do too. You knew? Xingqiu huh?...Can't seem to keep quite sometimes...Yes, I am dating them. Saying this feels foreign...I still can't believe they chose me of all people. But I'm not too insecure about it, after all, they chose me of all people.❞

Cyno

❝ Y/n is one of the few people who actually laugh at my jokes. I don’t know if its out of pity or if i truly make them laugh, but either way i don't care. As long as i see a smile on their face I'm at ease. Huh? What do you mean i sound lovesick?❞

Dainsleif

❝ There are things that I'd rather keep private and save, including my relationship with Y/n. So I have to apo-...no, i trust you but-...You're right. Y/n and I have been in a relationship for quite a long time now. They mean a lot to me, thats why I want to keep any information about them as private as I can.❞

Diluc

❝ Yes, I am in a relationship with Y/n. I guess the topic makes his rounds, huh? We announced our relationship just yesterday, but have been serious for a long time now. I am...not a public as you know. And i didn't wanted any unwanted or negative attention on both of us but i know i can trust you. Right?❞

Dottore

❝ Did i ever had a lover? What an inappropriate question of you~ Of course i had lovers, but none could compare to my favorite. Have you heard of Y/n? Oh yes, they are quite popular aren't they~? Well, they're mine, all mine. So it would be better for you if you keep your hands off them. ❞

Freminet

❝ Are they my friend? Uhm...no...they're a bit more than that. Uhm, yeah they're my partner. We've been together for a while now...Am i happy? Of course i am...I'm just a bit embarrassed thats all. No one has really asked me about our relationship yet except for Lyney, Lynette and father.❞

Gorou

❝ You want to know about Y/n? Sure, what do you wanna know? Yes, they're my partner, in fact, we live together! They're a really caring, they make breakfast every morning, tend any injuries i have and sometimes even run me a bath...that was too intimate.❞

Heizou

❝ Y/n? What do you know about them? Nothing yet but you wanna know more? Why? Interested? Why am I asking all these questions? I'm a detective, and you're interested in my lover-oops-now i ran my mouth.❞

Itto

❝ You mean the oni one for me?! The true love of my life!? THEY'RE AWESOME. I'm so incredibly lucky to have them. AND they're so incredibly lucky to have the awesome one and oni Arataki Itto as their boyfriend!❞

Kazuha

❝ They are currently waiting for my arrival...i cannot wait to have them in my arms again. I miss them every day...What's that book? Oh, it's just for all the poems i write for them while being away. One poem for each day. Once I'm back, i read them to them.❞

Kaeya

❝ Oh you mean my little snowflake? Yes, i know them quite well, i can assure you that one. Wasn't always like that though, took is a while to actually get closer. But i won't complain either way, I'm happy that we finally found each other...damn, look at all the sappy things I'm saying, they've done this to me.❞

Kaveh

❝ I'm still planning our house, i just cannot make it perfect! Ugh, it's really getting on my nerves. I NEED this perfect for them, I need to make this the house of their dreams. But it's taking way to long. Since when am i planning? About 3 years. And since when are we dating? Also about 3 years...oh...❞

Kinich

❝ When they first traveled to Natlan they didn't met me immediately. I've only got to know them through Mualani and Kachina. They once expressed their hatred towards saurian hunters, went off yapping for a good hour too. You should've seen the look on their face once i told them i was one of them. They're still embarrassed to this day, even more after i explained what i really do. One of the many memories that truly make me happy.❞

Lyney

❝ They're aware that true magic doesn't exist. That all my shows are just an act. That somewhere is a trick hidden, so simple its ridiculous. And yet, they're still amazed, still getting big eyed when I'm on stage preforming. Even after countless shows that are the same, they're clapping along like it was the first....I couldn't not have asked for a better support and love in my life then them.❞

Mika

❝ I still don't know how i managed to confess, maybe it's because i can't really remember it anyway. It's a memory I'd like to forget entirely, mostly because i was so embarrassed afterwards. But I never want to forget what they said afterwards. Everytime i hear those 4 words from them I get butterflies.❞

Neuvillette

❝ Y/n and I are in a serious relationship since 5 years and 4 months. We have been living together since 3 years and 1 month. I do consider our relationship deep and intimate. I trust them deeply and never once did I think about it otherwise. I truly believe that our relationship will hold on for eternity. Is this enough information or should I tell you more?❞

Pantalone

❝ Ah, my spoiled little brat? Joking, joking...well, only half. I do spoil them quite a lot, but i wouldn't consider them a brat...most of the time. Just last week I bought them this new coat, winter in Snezhnaya are the hardest in all Teyvat. Oh, and new gloves, a scarf an-no, why would i brag with my money, it's not like i have enough to buy at least million of coats.❞

Pierro

❝ The only thing you need to know is that they are with me and well taken care off. Should you not remember the fact that any hate or violence towards them is strictly forbidden, i will gladly remind you. ❞

Razor

❝ Y/n helped Razor a lot. Razor appreciates it, the help. Razor also loves Y/n. That's what Y/n always tells Razor every day. So Razor tells Y/n every day too.❞

Scaramouche

❝ Who? My lover? Them? No, I would never. No, I'm not keeping anything private?! Neither am I ashamed of anything...quite the opposite, huh? No, said nothing. Screw off now, i need to be somewhere. Where? None of your damn business...So what if its a date?!❞

Thoma

❝ Mhm, you're quite right, Y/n and I arw together. Lucked out, huh? I'm currently teaching them how to cook some dishes, been going well...for the most part. No, they have a hand for it but both of us always seem to lose any focus once we're 30 minutes into it.❞

Tighnari

❝ You should've heard their begging, "Oh Tighnari please, i can keep my own garden!" Yeah, keeping it, but not take care of it. Because who takes care of it? Correct, me. It's easy work, so it's not too troublesome. But what is troublesome is how they don't take care of it. *sigh* maybe i am a bit to harsh on them, they are a bit stressed lately anyway. They deserve to take a rest and calm down from everything. So i gladly take care of the garden, for as long as they need me to.❞

Venti

❝ Our first meeting was quite the embarrassing one, almost feel quite shy telling it....Ok! Ok! I'll tell you!....I fell into their lap...No, i wasn't drunk! Someone else was, pushed me by accident and i stumbled backwards right onto their lap in angels share. And to top it off i took their plate and drink with me. Lucky for me, they weren't mad at all. Still...it's so embarrassing!❞

Wriothesley

❝ Took them quite a while to adjust to Meropide. Understandable though, it's a change from the surface. But once they grew comfortable, it's almost like they don't want to leave. They quickly befriended almost everyone, especially Sigewinne. They grew quite popular here in the matter of just a few weeks. Good for me i got them first before anyone else could.❞

Xiao

❝ Hm? Oh, them? Yes, we're close. Why do you ask? Just curious? Ugh, don't look at me like that. What do you wanna hear? How much i love them? You can wait till the day Teyvat will shatter entirely, I won't say it to you, only to them.❞

Xingqiu

❝ Our love story is picture perfect. A written love story by the finest ink. Full of clichés. We reached for the same book, and our hands touched. Then and there, i was mesmerized...until they snatched the book first.❞

Zhongli

❝ Our love story has been holding on since 3717 years, and it will hold on for many years more. What makes me so sure it will? We love each other like it was the very first day. Never once did we lie to one another, were apart from each other or lost our trust. I do have a contract anyway if anything should happen.❞

[seumyo]

pregnancy cravings with kageyama tobio.

You have always been the love of Tobio Kageyama’s life. It’s an undeniable fact, one he never says out loud but proves in everything he does. That includes waking up at three in the morning because you, his pregnant wife, are convinced you need to take a walk around the park at that exact time.

“Do you need fresh air?” he asks, voice thick with sleep as he throws on a hoodie.

“No,” you reply, swinging your legs off the bed. “I just think the moon looks nice today.”

Kageyama has, at one point, genuinely considered the possibility that you might be talking to the dead. The way you suddenly wake up, sit up, and make these impossible requests—it’s like you’re getting instructions from something he can’t see.

But he doesn’t complain. If you want to go moon-gazing, then you will.

Because that’s what a doting husband does.

The cravings are manageable at first.

You wanted a very specific fast food meal from when you were a kid? Fine. He’ll look it up, track down if the restaurant still exists, and, if it doesn’t, find someone who can replicate it. He doesn’t care how long it takes. If it makes you happy, then it’s worth it.

What’s the point of building a network of connections through volleyball and sponsors if he wasn’t going to use them to his advantage?

But then, things escalate.

-

You, wrapped up in a blanket on the couch, looking at him with wide, expectant eyes. “I need something.”

Kageyama is already moving to grab his car keys. “What is it?”

You hesitate, then mumble, “A photocard.”

He stops mid-step.

“A what?”

“A photocard.” You turn your phone screen to him, showing a picture of him and Hoshiumi, that one from spring of last year during a promotional beach photoshoot.

“This one. I want it. I haven’t even seen this yet until now.”

He squints. “How does that satisfy your appetite?”

You huff. “It’s not about eating; it’s about fulfilling my craving! I just need it, Tobio. I need it now. Please.”

Well, the magic words are said.

This is probably the most bizarre request he’s gotten so far. But he sighs, pulls out his phone, and calls his manager.

“Yo, Kageyama. What’s up?”

“I need a photocard.”

There’s a long pause.

“...A what?”

Kageyama pinches the bridge of his nose. “A photocard. Of me and Hoshiumi-san. The one from spring of last year—the beach one. Can you find it?”

His manager sounds amused. “What, are you collecting your own merch now?”

“It’s for my wife.”

Understanding dawns in an instant. It’s like a universal language for all spouses that aren’t the one who’s pregnant.

“Ohhh. Pregnancy cravings?”

“Yes.”

A laugh.

“Yeah, alright. I’ll see what I can do. But, uh, you might wanna brace yourself, man. My wife went through the same thing, and it only gets weirder from here.”

And his manager is absolutely right.

-

There’s that time you woke up at midnight and shook Kageyama awake, eyes wide and desperate.

“Tobio.”

He jolts upright, a bit disoriented. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I need you to find me a volleyball signed by Oikawa.”

“[Name].”

“I need it.”

“Can’t I get it in the morning, then? I don’t even think Oikawa-san’s awake at this hour.”

You sigh as you cuddle closer to him, letting him lean back against the bed. “Ok,” you answer, “but it has to be a specific color of pen. I want it green.”

He stares at the ceiling. This is some kind of divine punishment. Maybe he was an awful person in his past life. But still, he does it.

Because he loves you. Because you’re carrying his child.

And because, somehow, despite all these absurd requests, you always looked at him like he’s your whole world.

“To [Name]—Congrats on the baby! Clearly, you have a better eye for talent than your husband does! Much love, Oikawa Tooru ♡”

You squeal when you sees it. “Oh my god, I love him.”

Your husband blinked profusely.

“Huh.”

“Oh, of course, I love you the most. You’re my top one.”

“I better be,” he huffs softly as you kiss his cheek, “or the other men you love can grant your cravings instead of me.”

“Tobio!” You laughed.

-

March 14 – 3:12 AM

Demanded I make her an ice cream sundae.

In complete silence.

She said, and I quote, “If you make a single sound, I won’t eat it.”

I dropped the spoon on the counter. She made me start over.

March 17 - 4:12 PM

Wants a mango.

But only if it’s been peeled and sliced by me.

Also needs me to stare at it for a full ten seconds before she eats it. (?)

-

“Oh my god,” you gasp, turning to him immediately. “Tobio.”

His heart jumps, looking up from his laptop. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I need you to wear your jersey to bed.”

Kageyama stares at you. “...What?”

“I don’t know, it just—” You clutched your heart like you’re about to faint. “I just need to see you in your full uniform while we sleep. Knee pads, too.”

Kageyama swallows a groan. He loves his wife, but sometimes you make his life unnecessarily difficult.

Still, that night, he lies in bed next to you in his full volleyball uniform. You sigh contentedly and cuddle into him. “This is so nice.”

Well, at least he already showered before getting on the bed. He’ll be ready to go as soon as he wakes up and has breakfast.

Kageyama, stiff as a board, stares at the ceiling and wonders if this is what true love feels like.

It is.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[archerdork]

it's been a decade but i'm still not over the insanity that is the movie Jupiter Ascending

spoilers ahead, but this movie was slammed when it was released. sitting pretty at a 27%/38% on rotten tomatoes, it was critiqued on essentially every single aspect by a large majority of viewers. almost everyone hated it. almost.

i can't speak for what the the wachowskis actually intended, but this movie is a homage to every 12 year old dreamer writing acidentally self insert stories with unrestrained enthusiasm.

the main character played by Mila Kunis is named Jupiter. no literally. Jupiter Jones.

movie opens with Jupiter living an uneventful, monotonous life. there's a montage of her waking up early, going to work as a house cleaner, waking up early, going to work as a house cleaner, repeat.

within 20 minutes of runtime she is about to be murdered by aliens but is saved bridal carry style by channing tatum rolling in on hover skates. yes exactly what you're picturing. he also has a laser gun that barks when he shoots it. no im not kidding.

channing tatum is a wolf man hybrid. his name is Caine Wise. yes, "dog man", exactly, his name is literally Dog Man. he has pointy ears. "bred for the military but that didn't work out for me". after he saves Jupiter, she is unconscious and wakes up with a gun next to her bc Caine "thought it would make her feel better". he is Guarded and Rough yet Kind and Gentle.

it is later in the movie revealed he used to have wings, pretty feather angel-wings looking wings, but they were ripped off because he broke the rules. he has scars on his back. it's all very man pain. the movie makes a poorly masked point of talking about how he's a wolf man without a pack while the camera is pointed at Jupiter.

Jupiter spends most of the movie alternating between fainting, being kidnapped and holding her own against people wanting to kill her. you know, she's Powerful and Cool and Kickass but also has hunky yet sensitive men saving her. at one point a man who planned to murder Jupiter insults her and Caine, pointing a gun at the guy, asks Jupiter "may i kill him" through his teeth but she says no so he doesn't. (she has a guard dog she literally has a guard dog im-).

she has several wardrob changes and she's either dressed in flannels, snassy space movie outfits or the most beautiful dresses you could imagine.

another character is Stinger Apini played by Sean Bean. he's a human honey bee hybrid. im still not joking. he gets little gold hexagon in his eyes sometimes. he uses "beeswax" as a swear.

while Caine and Stinger have a little "you betrayed me last time we saw each other" fight, a bunch of Stinger's bees start swarming Jupiter, following her movements like some kind of avatar water bending powers. this means she's royalty. because "bee's are genetically designed to recognize royalty" (sean bean says this with a completely straight face for which he deserves an award). Jupiter is space royalty. queen, to be exact. she's queen of a bunch of planets, including earth.

Jupiter Jones, normal human girl from a boring, monotonous life, is Queen of Earth.

she's one of the most important people in the universe and has a hot wolf man saving her at every turn. this movie was written for every little sensitive, creative child inside the heart of a adult clinging to their imagination and dreams.

the movie has about eight bad guys but oscar-winner and acclaimed actor eddie redmayne plays the top bad guy. eddie did this movie coming off the backs of Les Misérables and The Theory of Everything. i can only assume the casting director knew about a murder he’s committed and blackmailed him into doing this movie.

eddie's character name is Balem Abrasax (a fine, 'character name generator'-name) and he either whispers or blows out the speakers.

one hour into the movie it takes a break and does a 'space bureaucracy is like the DMV'-bit as Jupiter, with the help of a robot named Intergalactic Advocate Bob, tries to claim her title as queen. there's a montage where they are sent around to get documents so they can get other documents so they can get other documents only they can't get those documents before submitting the first document and-

jupiter gets a cool glowing tattoo on her wrist and then the movie jumps back into space opera and she's kidnapped and saved a few more times.

jupiter tries so hard to seduce Caine but he resist bc He's Broken and Dangerous and Does Not Deserve Her. the third act kicks off with Jupiter (the person) inside Jupiter (the planet) with Balem who will most certinly hurt her, so Stinger give Caine a pep talk about how much he loves Jupiter and he has to go save her.

mind, they've known each other for about two days and Jupiter has been kidnapped three times so they've only spent about half of that time together. but it's TRUE LOVE goddamnit. Caine looks like he's about to cry when Stinger tells him to go after the girl. then he sets his jaw very masculinely and proceed to fly a little spacecraft though the storm clouds dodging lightning

they kiss during the last fight, defeat the last bad guy and then movie cut to later. now Jupiter is waking up early and happily go about cleaning houses, only she pauses to look at the glowing tattoo on her wrist proving she owns Earth and after work she goes on a date with her wolf man boyfriend who got his wings back so now she uses the hover boots and they go flying together. the end.

movie has so many stupid little quips and bits and funny quotes. the amount of fanfic tropes used would kill you if you did a take a shot-game. it's so silly. so so silly. it's stupid and the pacing is atrocious and the dialouge is so campy it hurts sometimes and the action scenes are a mess of visual effects than nearly give you motion sickness and they are about ten minutes each which is nine minutes to long and i love this movie with all my heart.

it's the most comfort movie to ever comfort. it's little younger me sitting up at night dreaming up insane stories. it's younger me pretending to hoverboard alongside the car on long drives. it's wanting to feel special and loved and go on cool adventures. it's endless imagination wrapped up in a stupid little story with stupid little characters with stupid little names written with pure love for the child inside every creative person.

i will die defending this movie. go watch it

[5sospenguinqueen]

Tantrums Pt 2 | Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: After flushing a ten year relationship down the drain, Lewis realises he wants nothing more than to win you back. Especially when he sees you doing everything in your will to make him suffer.

Warnings: slight age gap, reader is 32. angst. swearing. pettiness

Requested: @madelynn-sienna and a whole bunch of you on part 1

F1 Masterlist

This is a long one, sorry

prev.

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roscoelovescoco just posted

liked by albon_pets, charles_leclerc and others

roscoelovescoco i am’s 12 today’s 🥳 thanks for’s all’s the birthday’s love’s. just as handsome’s as ever’s

44,985 comments

lewishamilton happy birthday to my boy

yn_ln oh, i miss when he was that little. happy birthday to my cutest boy 💕

user1 not yn and lewis both using my boy instead of our boy 

user2 i feel like lewis was behind this post ‘cause he used the cutest pic of him and roscoe

→ user3 yes, he looks so boyfriend coded in this 

→ user4 i feel like that’s the point? 

→ user5 i bet it’s because he’s trying to remind yn of how much she loves her boys

→ user4 but this doesn’t even include yn’s face

albon_pets happy birthday, roscoe! love from the whole gang

user6 everyone is saying lewis posted this to win yn back but i actually feel he’s posting this as a snub

→ user7 he hasn’t included yn’s face despite there being millions of pics of her and roscoe. like, that’s been her dog as well for the past 10 years

→ user8 i feel like these two are going to be really petty. i mean, look at how brocedes went

→ user9 i feel like you can’t let go of a 10 year relationship and not be slightly petty

user10 okay but lewis looks so good in this 

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tagheuer just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing and others

tagheuer counting down to race time with our formula one collection ambassadors  tagged: maxverstappen1, yn_ln

33,239 comments

yn_ln i think we all know who looks the best though 

→ maxverstappen1 fire her

user1 queen’s been booked and busy lmao

user2 not the red bull brand

redbullracing the best looking ambassadors i’ve ever seen

user3 tag putting yn and max in the same post? does this mean they modelled together?

→ user4 she’s an ambassador for a brand that solely sponsors red bull and is showcasing their f1 collection. of course they modelled together

→ user5 we love to see it

user6 i bet lewis is frothing!

user7 we know who red bull is picking in the divorce 

→ user8 like there was ever a question

user9 i just feel like george will be the one to show this to lewis by going “what do you think about this watch?” 

→ user10 omg yes, he’ll show yn’s pic and say “do you think carmen would like this?” just to watch lewis realise who the model is liked by carmenmmundt 

user11 i know she’s a model so will take the jobs she’s offered but i definitely feel like she accepted this to be a little petty

→ user12 what are the odds that she accepted it with a giggle 

→ user13 as she should

redbullracing just posted

liked by carmenmmundt, schecoperez and others

redbullracing kicking off the mexican grand prix with some famous faces  tagged: yn_ln

23,109 comments

maxverstappen1 famous faces? the only one i recognise here is me

→ yn_ln ha ha ha you’re hilarious.

→ user1 max and yn being besties? when did this happen?

→ yn_ln when we did our shoot for tag and he stuck by my side the entire time. like a child forced into a room with a bunch of their mum’s friends

→ maxverstappen1 you were the only person i knew! 

user2 oh, this isn’t what i was expecting to see when i opened insta 

mercedesamgf1 give her back

→ user3 messy

georgerussell63 oi, she doesn’t belong to you 

→ user4 carmen clearly supports this move

→ georgerussell63 carmen! we can see that you liked this

user5 does this mean lewis and yn are truly over?

→ user6 no! i refuse to accept that this is how it ends 

user7 lewis must be seething 

user8 if anyone hears any loud crashes, that’s lewis throwing things 

landonorris can we have you next?

→ oscarpiastri they seriously need to take away your media 

user9 streets are saying that max was the one who invited her?

user10 please, red bull, fix that damn car so max qualifies at the top, away from lewis, because i fear for our boy’s safety after this 

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yn_ln just posted

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, nicorosberg and others

yn_ln is this what you call an everyday car? 

19,406 comments

user1 wait, what happened to her ferrari?

charles_leclerc i feel betrayed 

→ yn_ln it’s not about you, i promise

porsche a pretty car for a pretty girl 

→ yn_ln my dream car

→ user2 since, uh, when?

user3 is she starting a new collection of cars or is this in lieu of the ferrari?

→ user4 i fear she got rid of the ferrari 

→ user5 or she’s kept it and just has the porsche in addition

user6 this is definitely a deliberate post. lewis bought her her dream car for their anniversary and not even months later, she’s buying a porsche?

→ user7 she can have more than one car

→ user8 yeah but she’s never been a multiple car owner and like user said. the ferrari was her dream car

user9 this feels like a dig at lewis

user10 i say good for her. a man wasted her time so she’s wasting his “gift”

user11 ultimate power move. if only red bull were still aston martin so she could’ve picked aston martin

user12 i bet lewis got mad at her for being in the red bull garage and she decided to wind him up further

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yn_ln just posted

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, roscoelovescoco and others

yn_ln 🖤💋

21,966 comments

carmenmmundt jaw droppped

→ yn_ln 🩷

user1 who is that man?

user2 she thought she could distract us with how hot she looks but we see that man, sis

user3 i hope this one treats her right and gives her everything she deserves

user4 bride yn incoming with a man who will marry her

francisca.cgomes i need that dress and the body in it

→ yn_ln i’ll send you the link, my gorgeous girl

user5 i’m glad she’s moving on because lewis did her dirty so it’s nice to see her recovering from that 

georgerussell63 what’s all this then

→ user6 omg guys, george commented

→ user7 and?

→ user8 he hasn’t commented on any of her posts since her and lewis broke up. does this confirm that the guy in the pic is lewis?

→ user9 may your delulu come trululu

user10 i can’t deal with this today. i know yn deserves the best but she can’t move on

user11 i’m actually in mourning. wdym she’s moving on and getting super hot pics from it

lewishamilton 😅🫣

→ user12 excuse me? i found this comment hidden 1000s of comments down but excuse me?! 

→ user13 what does this mean?!

→ user14 mate, if you want to win her back, you need to try harder

→ user15 he heard people talking about hot she looked and decided to hit her up

→ user16 this is such a pathetic attempt. what happened to his rizz

→ user17 looks like yn took it with her

yn_ln added a new story

lewishamilton added a new story

charles_leclerc added a new story

replies (tweet 1 and 3 are supposed to be swapped)

user1 @/tweet3 she was! kym illman posted her on instagram as their guest for the weekend

→ user2 she had a merc pass and everything

user3 i want to know who invited her and why. she doesn’t model for tommy anymore so she’d have no reason to be their guest

→ user4 i bet it was george

→ user5 nah. toto did it to throw lewis off so he could make his “shelf life” comment look real

user6 the real question is, did lewis know she was going to be there

user7 @/tweet2 we waited 10 years for lewis and yn’s wedding and we don’t get one ever?

→ user8 they broke up. we weren’t getting one anyway?

→ user7 streets are saying that yn and lewis got married in vegas

→ user8 be fucking real. he broke her heart

user9 @/tweet1 fully agree. i bet it was max and charles instead haha

→ danielricciardo he can back off my man! 

→ user10 omg daniel. he may not be on the grid but max is his forever 

user11 people are speculating that they got married because he posted a picture of a chapel?

→ user12 i know. that could mean literally anything?

user13 all the drivers were drunk celebrating max’s fourth wdc so i’m betting it’s a driver marrying another driver instead

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9 months

lewishamilton just posted

liked by nicorosberg, mclaren and others

lewishamilton my whole world

50,440 comments

roscoelovescoco the’s cutest’s sister in all’s the world’s 

user1 the man famous for long captions and he only gives us 3 words?! where’s the details!!

user2 when did this happen!!!

user3 and she has a wedding ring on? they definitely got married in vegas 

user4 guys, she's just changed her name on socials!

georgerussell63 what happens in vegas, does NOT stay in vegas 

charles_leclerc @/alexandrasaintmleux see, i told you we needed a dog AND a baby 

→ yn_hamilton are you going to push the baby out?

→ charles_leclerc i would if biology let me

→ yn_hamilton @/lewishamilton why did you never say this to me?

→ lewishamilton i knew letting you two be friends was a bad idea

yn_hamilton i still can’t believe you brought the ring to vegas

→ lewishamilton i was feeling lucky 

mercedesamgf1 you don’t tell us you got married and now you don’t tell us about the baby

→ scuderiaferrari he’s not your driver anymore?

→ mercedesamgf1 oop, my bad. used to seeing his name and being responsible for his pr

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Baby Fever Angst Series

requests open

tag list

@how-what-why-huh @bibissparkles @strengthandstay @raynetargaryan2 @seonghwaexile @unknownmystery22 @hoeforsirius @jackandsallyandbuttonandsparrow @mbioooo0000 @unstablefemme @strawb3heart @wearethecanadians @ajordan2020 @topaz125 @seasonswinter @fearfam69691 @evie-119 @be-your-coffee-pot @myescapefromthislife @madelynn-sienna @heavy-vettel

[faesdreaming]

cardinal concept

yandere platonic batfam with a resurrected reader

a/n: because as much as i love neglected reader, dead (then alive again) reader just has so much potential

the dynamic duo, batman and robin. bruce wayne and dick grayson. then, you came along; a result of bruce’s irresponsible coupling with a young woman he’d long since forgotten about. you grow up in the nastier parts of gotham with your mother, where you’re forces to grow up faster and become more mature, until she has an accident.

after you’re mother’s untimely death, you find yourself under his care. bruce is hesitant and unsure, he’s already struggled with raising dick. he doesn’t want to fail you too. he dances around telling about batman until you happen upon the batcave, at your insistence and a few instances of you following them, he relents and lets you join.

suddenly, it’s batman, robin, and cardinal.

bruce is initially unsure what to do with you, even after you become cardinal. unlike with dick, who needed to become robin lest he go down a darker road, you’re only cardinal because of him. it draws out an agonizing guilt, causing bruce to practically coddle you. but you’re emotionally intelligent, in a way bruce isn’t, you’re able to communicate with soft words and gentle reasoning instead of shouting matches and tearful pouting like your brother. you’re his angel, his sweet, understanding angel. it reminds him of his own mother. you’re kind, empathetic disposition is everything bruce needs in his life. because yes, to him, your brother needs his guidance. but bruce needs yours.

as for dick his relationship is with you as simple as this: he’s the big brother and you’re the little sibling. you can fight and argue, but you two always make up and head off to snuggle or play. you’re bond grows stronger the more time you spend on patrol— having each other’s back, getting into trouble with batman— or at school— although you’re in a younger grade, you still see your big brother at school and go to him when you have problems— or at home— snuggled up, watching a movie and eating snacks provided by alfred— you two are extremely close.

you’re little of family of four— including alfred, of course— is tight-knit. you fight and argue but always make up and you’re always there for each other.

until dick becomes nightwing and a scruffy teen named jason todd joins you. as close as you are with your older brother and father, you bond with him far quicker. maybe it’s because of how close you are in age, or maybe it’s because of your shared past experiences.

the family dynamics shift and change, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. dick grows more distant, going off with the titans. but that’s to be expected, he’s grown up now. you still visit him, of course. and he still pops by to see you. bruce, you notice, softens, almost. he’s grown accustomed to parenthood. jason is your favourite change, though. a sibling close in age, but still younger, so can justify (playfully) bossing him around. your family isn’t perfect, but it’s yours and you love it.

then, jason and bruce start fighting. dick goes off world. a fight with bane leaves you injured and out of commission. it’s just a rough patch, you tell yourself. until, suddenly, jason’s birth mother contacts him. something’s off about it. you want to tell your dad, however, jason is adamant you shouldn’t. reluctantly, you don’t, opting to go along with him just in case.

your gut, as it turns out, was right. you’re injured and unable to do much as the joker captures you and jason. you’re helpless to watch as your brother, your sweet baby brother, is beaten mercilessly with a crowbar. your voice is hoarse from screaming during your own beating and your body is sore, but despite it all, you still rasp out pleas to let your brother go. one child will be effective enough. the joker can spare one. of course, in his cruelty, he doesn’t.

you’re left aching, battered, and bruised. the ticking of the bomb serves as the count to your death. jason, brave jason, tries to gather enough strength to get up. and maybe, just maybe, he could escape if he weren’t focused on trying to save you. he won’t listen to your pleas for him to go, to leave you behind. he’s adamant upon accompanying you to your doom.

you hear the final ticks. with all the strength you have left, you move towards him. you cannot save yourself. you cannot save him. all you can do is die beside him. pressing your forehead to his, the last thing you see is your little brother’s face before the final tick sounds and the ensuing explosion consumes you.

and that’s the end of it, your journey, your life. you’re buried alongside your brother in a sombre ceremony, your uniform cased in glass as a memorial to bruce’s failures. he becomes angrier, loses himself. he’s lost two of his children and is fighting with his only remaining one. dick, is utterly furious, with himself and bruce. he blames bruce. for letting his precious siblings die, for starting them all of this heroic crusade. he blames himself for not being there, for being distant with you and jason.

alas, time marches forwards and batman needs a new robin, in the form of one tim drake. he’s a clever kid, one way too smart for his own good. one you used to babysit while his rich parents were away to earn some extra cash. it wasn’t right, leaving him with no one his age to play with. so, when you could, you’d come over. you’d soothe his loneliness. and for that, he’s forever grateful.

your influence continues beyond your death. for you life has impacted so many. barbara gordan, for example, who viewed you akin to a little sister. who fought alongside you as batgirl. you were loved by many as (Y/N) Wayne. your friends and family still hold candles for you. even as they accept your lose, they never stop fully grieving for you and the lost potential brimming inside you. then, there are those who you impacted as cardinal. as a hero, you saved numerous lives, including that of one stephanie brown, who will forever feel indebted to you and strives to become just like you.

the justice league, who knew you as one of the first sidekicks, who functioned like extended family, mourn deeply for your loss and offer sympathies to your father and brother. they will remember you and your tenacity, carrying on their pursuit of justice with you in mind. certainly villains, such as poison ivy and even harley quinn, are enraged with the joker. while you could occasionally be a pain, you were their favourite kiddie hero. and of course the likes of selina kyle and talia al ghul, your father’s paramours, women who became like family to you.

cardinal will be forever immortalized in the hearts of heroes and villains alike, your legacy of compassion and kindness living on in memories transformed into stories, your death a testament to sacrifice and love and heroism— except, that isn’t how it ends, is it? no. your story doesn’t end with your death, it’s how it begins.

and your real story begins by waking in the constricting confined of your casket, bursting out with inhuman strength, fueled by the adrenaline boost, and digging your way out of your grave, the cool mud giving way to harsh ground until you break through the service. that night, that stormy gotham eve, is the day you are reborn.

you flee then wander the streets of gotham until you regain your mind. you remember, you remember everything and you, you don’t want to go back. not to your family, not to your friends, not the life you once knew. you were given a new life. and this life, you would live for yourself.

sans your old attachments, you live encumbered, untroubled by past woes. yet, you seem to forget your festering memory, the mark you’ve left on people. you forget that while you may be willing to leave your old life behind, they aren’t as willing to let you go. especially when they learn you’re within reach.

[nyrasvoid]

The Cost of Duty

Gwayne Hightower x Fem!Reader

Summary: Gwayne Hightower, is summoned in Kingslanding during his wife’s first pregnancy. After giving birth to their son without him, she struggles to forgive Gwayne upon his return.

Warnings: lots of angst because our girl is alone but a good ending i guess ?

A/N: no use of Y/N and also included Daeron in the fanfic, he’s 7 yrs old and raised by Gwayne and his wife

- Word count: ≈2.9k

Your hand rests on your growing belly, feeling the subtle movements of your child. The babe is still small, just five moons along, but every tiny kick, is a reminder of the life growing inside you, a life you created with Gwayne. Yet, as the days pass, it feels like you are experiencing this miracle alone.

The door creaks open, and Gwayne steps inside, his expression tired as he pulls off his gloves. His face is lined with the exhaustion of someone who has been carrying the weight of Oldtown on his shoulders.

You watch him as he moves around the room, setting his things aside without a word. A part of you wants to let it go, to simply accept that he is busy, that he is doing his duty. But another part aches for his attention, for the warmth and closeness you once shared.

"Gwayne," you say, your voice soft.

He looks up, his eyes briefly meeting yours before he looks away again. "Yes, my love?"

You hesitate, trying to find the right words. "You've been so distant lately," you begin, trying to keep a calm tone. "I understand that your duties are important, but... I miss you. I miss us."

He sighs, rubbing his temple as he moves closer to you. "I know, my love. I know it has been difficult. But there is so much that needs my attention. With Father in King’s Landing, everything falls to me."

"But what about me?" you ask, your voice rising slightly. "What about our child? I need you, Gwayne. We need you."

He looks at you, with guilt in his eyes. "I am here now, am I not? I’m doing the best I can. But Oldtown... it doesn’t run itself."

You stand, unable to keep your frustration to yourself. "And what about me? Do I run myself too? I sit here every single day, waiting for you, hoping for just a moment of your time. But when you finally come, it’s like you’re not really here.”

You pause.

“You do not even look at me unless I speak to you first."

Gwayne steps back, as if putting distance between you would solve your problems. "I do not have the privilege of simply putting things aside, my dear. You knew this when we married."

"I didn’t know it would mean being ignored!" you snap, your hands trembling as you grip the skirts of your dress tightly.

He takes a deep breath. "I’m doing this for us, for our future. The child’s future. Can you not see that?"

Tears threaten to fall out your eyes, but you refuse to cry. "I just want my husband back," you whisper.

Gwayne’s face softens, and he reaches out to touch your arm, but you pull away before he can touch you. “My love-"

"Don’t," you say, "Just... don’t."

He watches you for a moment, but he says nothing more, only turning and leaving the room, the sound of the door closing behind him, leaving you alone again.

Days pass, and the tension between you two only grows. Gwayne is present, but his mind is always on his duties. You feel as if you’re growing further and further away from him.

One evening, after a long day, Gwayne finally sits down beside you as you take your evening meal. You’ve been silent for most of the day, and now the sight of him so close yet so distant is almost unbearable.

He clears his throat, breaking the silence. "I have received a raven from King’s Landing today," he begins.

"And?" You replied unphased, not even looking at him.

"Father has summoned me," he says, "He needs my presence to sort out some political matters."

You place your spoon down. "King’s Landing?" you repeat, disbelief in your words. "That’s so far... and I’m already five moons along, Gwayne."

"I know," he says, his voice low. "But I will be returning as soon as I can. I won’t let anything keep me from being here for the birth."

You shake your head, unable to believe what you’re hearing. "You don’t know that. What if something happens? What if you don’t make it back in time?"

"I will," he insists, reaching for your hand, but you pull it back.

"You’re not listening to me!" you raise your voice at him, your frustration taking over. "You’re choosing to leave. You’re choosing your father over me. Over us."

He frowns. "It’s not a choice, my dearest. It is a duty. My father needs me."

"And I need you," you sob, your voice breaking. "I can’t do this alone, Gwayne. I shouldn’t have to. You are my husband before anything else."

He reaches out again, but this time you stand, moving away from him. "Please," he begins, but you shake your head.

"Don’t ask me to understand," you say, "Because I don’t."

After a long moment of silence, you hear him rise from his seat. "I’m leaving in three days time," he says quietly, his voice filled with regret. "Please, try to rest.”

You say nothing, you hear the door close behind him, and you break down crying, once again, you are left alone.

The night before he’s supposed to leave, Gwayne comes to your shared chambers, his expression softer than it’s been in weeks. He moves to sit beside you on the bed, his hand resting on your knee.

"I know you’re angry with me," he begins, his voice gentle. "But I don’t want to leave on bad terms. I love you. You must know that."

You turn to face him, your emotions a mix of anger, sadness, and love. "If you loved me, you wouldn’t be leaving."

He looks surprised, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, his hand sliding up your nightgown. "Let me show you," he murmurs as he presses tender kisses down your collarbone.

But the anger and hurt are still too fresh. You place a hand on his chest, pushing him back firmly. "Not tonight, Gwayne."

He pulls back, surprise and hurt showing in his eyes. "My love..."

"I can’t," you say, "I’m still angry. I need...time."

He nods understandingly. "I am sorry," he whispers, pulling you into his arms despite your anger. "I am truly, so sorry."

You let him hold you, sobbing into his arms without saying a word.

Gwayne leaves at dawn, you watch from the window, your hand resting over your belly as he rides away. He turns once, looking back, but you don’t move. You don’t wave.

As the days turn into weeks, the loneliness only grows. Gwayne’s absence is a constant reminder of the growing distance between you. You try to busy yourself with tasks; embroidering blankets for the babe, reading, even taking long walks through the gardens. But nothing can fill the void he has left behind.

You spend time with Daeron, Gwayne’s youngest nephew, who has been staying in Oldtown under your and your husband’s care since he was born, and he had now seven years of age.

One afternoon, as the two of you sit beneath the shade of a large tree, Daeron looks up at you sadly.

You reach out, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “What’s on your mind, sweetling?”

Daeron glances up at you, his blue eyes filled with a sadness. “Auntie… will you and Uncle Gwayne forget about me when the babe is born?”

The question catches you off guard. You shift closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into a gentle embrace. “Forget about you? Never, Daeron. Why would you think such a thing?”

He shrugs, trying to appear indifferent, but his voice trembles as he speaks. “Because the babe is your child. He’ll be important, and I’m just… I’m just your nephew.”

You tighten your hold on him, your heart breaking at the thought that he feels so insecure. “Daeron, listen to me,” you say softly. “You are not just our nephew. You’re as much a part of this family as the babe will be. Gwayne and I love you dearly, and nothing will ever change that.”

His eyes fill with tears. “But… he’ll be your real son. Won’t you love him more?”

You shake your head. “Of course not, sweetling. I will love both of you equally, just as if you were both my sons. I promise you that. You and the babe will grow up together, and I will raise you both as brothers. Nothing will change how much I care for you.”

Daeron’s lip trembles, and he finally allows himself to lean into your hug, resting his head against your shoulder. “You mean it? You won’t forget about me?”

You press a kiss to the top of his head. “I mean it, Daeron. You are very dear to me. The babe will be your little brother, and he will look up to you, just like you look up to Gwayne. I’m sure you’ll be the best big brother anyone could ask for.”

He sniffles but nods. “I will teach him all the things I know. How to ride a horse, and how to climb trees…”

“And how to be kind and brave, just like you,” you add with a smile.

Daeron smiles a little. “I’ll do my best. I promise.”

You hug him tighter. “I know you will, Daeron. And I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

He pulls back slightly, looking up at you with determination. “I’ll be the best big brother ever.”

You smile, ruffling his hair affectionately. “I’m sure you will be, my love. And the babe will be so lucky to have you as his brother.”

The boy’s expression softens as he looks at your belly. “Do you think he’ll be just like uncle Gwayne? Brave and strong?”

You hesitate for a moment, the thought of Gwayne filling your mind with sadness. “Perhaps,” you say gently.

Daeron nods, then his face brightens again as he looks up at you. “Can I help you pick out a name for him?”

Your smile widens at the offer. “Of course. Do you have any ideas?”

He thinks for a moment, his brow furrowing in concentration. “What about Maelor? It’s a strong name, isn’t it?”

You tilt your head, considering the name. “Maelor…” you say slowly. “Yes, it is a strong name.”

Daeron smiles, clearly proud of himself. “I can’t wait to meet him, auntie. We’re going to have so much fun together.”

As the months drag on, you begin to feel your belly grow heavier each day. Letters from Gwayne arrive frequently, filled with words of love and concern, but you don’t care to answer them.

You feel alone, as the weeks turn into months and the baby gets more active. Every kick is a reminder that the time is running out and you can only hope that Gwayne comes back in time.

But as your belly grows, so too does your anxiety.

One evening, you feel a sharp pain. You clutch at your belly. It’s too soon, you think. Gwayne isn’t here. He promised he would be here.

The pain intensifies, and you know without a doubt that the babe is coming. Your maids rush to your side, their faces filled with worry as they help you to your bed. The midwives and the maester are summoned.

You grip the sheets, your knuckles turning white. “It’s too soon,” you gasp, tears streaming down your face. “Gwayne isn’t here… he isn’t here…”

The midwife shushes you gently, wiping the sweat from your forehead. “Breathe, my lady. Focus on the baby. He’s eager to meet you.”

The labor is long, painful, and each moment is filled with fear.

At one point, you feel that you can’t go on, the pain too much to bear. “I can’t,” you cry out, “I can’t do this…”

“You can, my lady,” the midwife insists. “You’re strong. Your baby needs you.”

The room is full of faces, of whispers and encouragements, of hands holding yours as you push with all your strength.

Hours pass, and just when you think you have nothing left to give, you hear it. A loud cry that fills the room. The midwives wrap the tiny babe in soft blankets before placing him in your arms.

Tears stream down your face as you look down at your son cry. He’s perfect, you think.

“Maelor,” you whisper, “my sweet Maelor.”

Days pass, and the babe grows stronger, his cries filling the empty chambers that once were filled with silence. Daeron is overjoyed to meet his new brother.

“Can I hold him?” Daeron asks one afternoon, his eyes wide with excitement.

You smile, carefully placing Maelor in his small arms. “Support his head,” you instruct gently, watching as Daeron cradles the baby with surprising care.

“He’s so small,” Daeron whispers. “Will he be strong like uncle Gwayne?”

You nod, your heart filled with pride. “He will. But he’ll also have your kindness, Daeron. He’ll need you to show him how to be a good man.”

Daeron’s face lights up, and he nods eagerly. “I will. I promise.”

You watch as Daeron gently rocks Maleor, your heart warming at the sight. For a moment, the loneliness fades, replaced by the joy of watching your sons together.

But as the days turn into weeks, Geayne sends letters, each one more desperate than the last, asking about Lucerys, about you, about your health. But you can’t bring yourself to respond, the anger still too fresh.

Maelor grows, his tiny fists curling around your fingers, tugging at your hair, his eyes beginning to focus on your face. He’s beautiful, perfect in every single way, and yet every time you look at him, you’re reminded of Gwayne’s absence.

Two months pass before Gwayne finally returns. Word reaches you that he is only an hour away, but you remain in the nursery, rocking your son in your arms as you sit by the window.

Despite knowing Gwayne is coming home, you make no move to greet him at the gates.

Footsteps approach, and a moment later the door to the nursery swings open. Gwayne stands there, his eyes searching for you immediately. He takes a step inside, his gaze falling on you and the child in your arms. “My love…”

You do not look up, focusing instead on Maelor. Gwayne approaches you, dropping to his knees beside you. “Please, look at me. I am so sorry…”

You remain silent, unwilling to let your emotions show. Gwayne reaches out, placing his hand on top of yours. “I know I’ve hurt you. I never meant to be away for so long. I didn’t think it would be so… difficult.”

You glance up then, your eyes meeting his.

“I needed you,” you say quietly. “I went through the hardest moments of my life without you, Gwayne. And now… now you come back and expect everything to be as it was?”

“I do not expect that,” he says, “I know I’ve done wrong. And I can’t change what’s happened… but please, give me a chance to make it right. I want to be here for you, for our son.”

You look down at your son, your heart aching. “Maelor is already two months old,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “You’ve missed so much, Gwayne. His first smile, the way he grabs my finger when he’s hungry… you weren’t here.”

Gwayne’s breath hitches, and he finally touches Maelor’s tiny hand, his fingers trembling as they brush against the babe’s soft skin. “I know,” he whispers. “I am truly so sorry, my love. I’ve never regretted anything more in my life. Please… let me be here now. Let me be the father he deserves, the husband you deserve.”

“We’ll see,” you say quietly. “For now, all that matters is that Maelor is healthy and safe.” You pause and take a deep breath, “But… I want us to be a family, Gwayne. For Maelor and Daeron.”

Gwayne nods. “Thank you,” he whispers, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your son’s forehead. “Thank you for giving me a healthy son, my dear. I promise, I’ll spend the rest of my life making this right.”

You watch as he cradles the babe in his arms, the sight filling you with joy.

PS: I know I have to start writing for other characters, I just love this man so much 😔 So just a reminder that my requests are open 🥰🥰

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Five

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren't quirks, they're survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, detailed meltdown on-page, angst.

Notes — Another double update, go me! PSA: Our Amelia has a bit of a difficult time in this one. Take care of yourselves x

Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know! - Peach x

2019

WhatsApp Groupchat — The 2019 F1 Grid

Charles L. I have found an iPad in Ferrari hospitality. It is engraved with the initials A.B. Any ideas?

Lewis H. Does it have a bunny sticker on it?

Charles L. Yes!

Lewis H. That’s Amelia’s, then.

Lando N. lol I’ll come get it just gimme 10 mins im in a debrief rn 

Charles L. Sure no problem Amelia is Zak Brown’s daughter, yes?

George R. Yeah mate The smart one.

Sebastian V. Haha. She is the one Binotto wants? Brown hair, pretty smile?

Lando N. Bro.

Lewis H. @Sebastian — Mattia has tried to get her to Ferrari?

Sebastian V. Yes. He’s offered her some very lucrative opportunities. She has so far turned all of them down.

Carlos S. She’s loyal to McLaren. Leave her to us, yes?

Valtteri B. But if she ever decided to go elsewhere, Mercedes would make sense.

Lewis H. Yeah obviously 👍🏻

Lando N. ????????????

Lance S. If she was offered a million dollars to fix the Racing Point car, do you think she’d take it? Not a hypothetical. My dad wants to know.

Max V. Money won’t work. You forget she’s already the child of a millionaire.

Lance S. Damn it.

Kimi R. Is this the child always in Norris’ garage?

Lando N. Don’t call her a child we are literally the same age

Kimi R. That does not change the fact

Daniel R. But seriously, why was she even in Ferrari hospitality in the first place?

Max V. Ice cream.

Lando N. Ice cream 

Lewis H. Ice cream.

Sebastian V. I can confirm she was here for ice cream. Pistachio, specifically.

Charles L. I cannot believe I’ve still never met her. Is she really so smart?

Lando N. Yes.

Pierre G. Absolutely.

Max V. Smarter than you are capable of comprehending, Charles.

Charles L. Then I suppose I will just have to charm her into accepting Mattia’s offer 😌

Lando N. I will put in the wall, Leclerc.

Charles L. Oh! You are together with her, Lando? I didn’t know!

Lando N. No, we’re not together.

Charles L. Then I am confused.

Max V. Her father has practically forbade them from dating. Total nonsense if you ask me.

Carlos S. They are dating.

Daniel R. @Carlos 😳😳😳

Lando N. @Carlos NO WE ARE NOT STOP SAYING THAT

Sergio P. Mucho defensive…

Carlos S. He wrote his race number on her shoes.

Lando N. So what? That means nothing.

Daniel R. Oh brother….

Max V. Yeah, sorry, I can’t even back you on that one Lando. That’s a lot.

Kimi R. My wife had my number stitched into her shoes. We got married six months later.

George R. So Kimi is saying you’re basically engaged, bro.

Lewis H. Let’s stop talking about this. Before Lando has a full on meltdown.

Charles L. Too late. He has arrived for the iPad with a terrible attitude. 

Lando N. I hate all of you.

— 

Subject: Workplace Conduct Reminder – Inclusivity & Respect at McLaren

From: HR Department To: All McLaren Racing Staff Date: [Sunday, post-race, 10:42 PM]

Dear Team,

As the season continues and tensions rise both on and off the track, we’d like to take a moment to remind everyone of McLaren’s core values — collaboration, respect, and inclusion.

We are incredibly proud of the diversity across our team, from engineering to strategy, operations to communications. Every person is here because they bring something exceptional to the table — and that includes our colleagues who may experience or perceive the world differently than others.

We ask that all team members remain mindful of the following:

Neurodiversity is not a barrier — it is an asset. Please be conscious of language and behaviour that may unintentionally alienate or diminish the contributions of individuals who may process things differently. This includes members of our extended team, trusted advisors, and collaborators who work closely with us — regardless of job title or official role.

“Vibes” are not a metric — Judging someone’s energy, personality, or communication style is not only unprofessional but also unfair. Everyone representing or contributing to McLaren, formally or informally, deserves respect.

Support one another — Whether someone wears McLaren orange full-time or contributes behind the scenes, everyone here plays a part in our collective success.

Rumours are not culture — Let’s keep paddock gossip out of professional spaces. If you have concerns, we encourage you to speak directly to your manager or HR.

This message is not in response to any one incident but rather a gentle pit stop reminder: our team functions best when everyone feels seen, heard, and safe.

If you have any questions or want to speak to someone in confidence, please feel free to reach out to HR directly. We’re here to help.

Kind regards, The McLaren Racing HR Team [hr@mclarenracing.co.uk]

— 

iMessage — 11:40pm

Lando Yo, did you see the email?

Carlos Sí.

Lando Kinda hardcore. Glad Zak did something 

Carlos Somebody said something to Amelia?

Lando Yeah someone in PR idk I feel like I should know more about her stuff I feel stupid tho. Like I don’t know anything. Just that she’s Amelia yano 

Carlos I did some reading. Come to my hotel room. We eat pizza. I will teach you what I know and we can google the rest.

Lando Legend. Thanks, mate.

— 

The course he took her to wasn’t flashy — quiet, tucked away, the kind of place her dad’s friends would never be caught dead in. That was intentional. They weren’t exactly hiding their… friendship, but they weren’t trying to advertise it either.

Amelia stared down at the club he’d handed her like it was a piece of martian debris.

“This is very stupid,” she muttered. “Pointless, really.”

“It is,” Lando agreed, his lips twitching. “Just hit the ball.”

She squinted at the tiny white ball he’d settled on the grass in front of her. “Is it supposed to just… go?”

“Yes.”

“Like in a line?” she clarified, glancing at him.

He shrugged. “In theory.”

She swung. Missed.

Lando clapped anyway. “Incredible form. I’ve never seen such calculated failure.”

“It was bad,” she said seriously. “I didn’t hit the ball. I made a hole in the grass, Lando.” She stared down at the muddy crater with quiet horror.

He just gave her an encouraging nod, gesturing for her to try again.

She sighed, feeling the beginning of a stress rash creep along her neck. But she tried again. And that time, she hit it — not far, just a lazy roll across the grass — but enough to surprise herself. Lando caught the way her eyes widened, saw the exact moment the thrill overtook her frustration.

He didn’t say anything. Just handed her another ball.

They kept going like that for a while — her slowly getting the hang of it, him slipping in dumb jokes and patient explanations between swings. She never asked for help, but he noticed how closely she watched every move he made. Her eyes, always sharp, always calculating.

Eventually, she dropped to the grass with a dramatic sigh and said, “Why do people think this is relaxing? I’m hot and my legs are tired.”

Lando chuckled and sat beside her, kicking his legs out long. “I think it’s relaxing. Your dad likes it.”

“I don’t want to talk about my dad. It makes me stressed.”

“Yeah?” He asked.

She pulled at a blade of grass, rolled it between her fingers. “He told me again that it would be better if I stayed away from you. He said it would make things easier. For me. For you. For the team.” She continued. 

Lando let the silence sit for a moment before asking, his voice quiet and slightly unsure. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I want him to not worry. I want him to trust me. I want…” She hesitated, frowning at the grass. “I want to feel like I can make my own choices without feeling like I might wreck everything.” 

“You’re not wrecking anything,” Lando said. He tapped the ground next to her leg and she glanced at him, blinking. “I like hanging out with you.” He told her. 

She didn’t say anything, just flicked the blade of grass from her fingers and looked at the trees that surrounded the course. “I don’t know what I feel yet,” she said finally. “Toward you, I mean. But I know that I have liked this. Today. Not the golf. Being with you.”

Lando grinned — couldn’t help himself. Probably looked like a right knob, but he didn’t care. “Want to keep playing?” He asked. 

She gave him a look. “I might get fined for ruining so much of their grass.”

He handed her another ball. Shrugged. Smirked. “It’s fine. I make a lot of money.” 

She rolled her eyes.

— 

Amelia shut her bedroom door with more force than she meant to and leaned against it, breath caught high in her chest like she’d just ran a marathon. Her bag hit the floor. Her hands were shaking.

She didn’t know why. Except; she did.

Her body was full of something too big. Too much. A knot of heat and noise and confusion that had no exit. It felt like all the inside parts of her were pressing outward, like she might split open if she didn't stay still.

She pressed her palms hard into her eyes like she could push it all back in. But it was already too late. The thoughts were everywhere; spilled oil, tangled cords, static static static. Her brain wouldn’t quiet down. Wouldn’t give her space to think.

She’d had a good day. That was the worst part. 

Lando had been good.

He never looked at her like she was difficult. He didn’t act like she was hard work. When she didn’t catch onto something the first time, he just explained again. No sighing. No staring. No pretending. Things weren’t easy with him, not exactly, but they were lighter. Easier.

She sat hard on her bed and the tears came without warning; fast, silent, relentless.

She didn’t cry often. Usually she just shut down. Usually the wall slammed down before anything could spill out. But this time everything had slipped past it, and now she was sobbing, but it didn’t even feel like crying. It felt like her whole nervous system had shattered.

A knock at the door.

“Amelia?” her mum’s voice, soft. “We just got back. Can I come in?”

She didn’t answer. Just turned her face away and wiped at it, even though the tears kept falling. Her skin was already stinging. Her chest was tight.

The door creaked open.

“I’m not upset,” Amelia said fast, panicked. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t know why I feel like this. No. I do. I do. I just don’t know what to do with it. And I don’t want to talk about it—except I do. I do, I just—” She broke off, swallowing hard.

Her mum sat on the edge of the bed, calm. Grounding.

“I went out with Lando today,” Amelia said, too fast. “To play golf. His idea. He said we should do something fun. So I did. And it was fun. I didn’t freak out or embarrass myself. I didn’t ruin it. I didn’t ruin it.”

She dug her nails into her palms. Her face was blotchy and sore.

“He makes me feel normal,” she whispered. “Not small. Not like a problem. Just… me. And now I don’t know what I feel. I think I want him to be my friend. Or maybe something else. I don’t know. And I don’t want to know, because it doesn’t matter.”

“Why doesn’t it matter?” Her mum asked calmly.

Amelia blinked at her, and then, like someone flicked a switch, the anger surged. Hot and fast, like a fever.

“Because of Dad,” she spat. “Because he thinks that it would be a distraction. Because he thinks I’ll screw everything up just by being around. Like I’m some walking disease that’s gonna infect Lando’s entire career. I know that’s what he’s worried about the most.”

She was breathing too fast. Her limbs were twitching now, hands clenching and unclenching.

“I don’t have friends,” she said. “You know that. I’ve never had friends. Not ones that stay. I get too intense. Too blunt. Too weird. Too tired. And people always stop trying.”Her voice cracked. Her throat burned. “But Lando didn’t stop. He hasn’t stopped. And it’s still not enough. I still don’t get to have this one good thing without it turning into a problem.”

The sobs came back, messy and loud this time. She stood up too fast, swaying. Her hands started moving uncontrollably at her sides; jerky, uncoordinated. A warning sign. The meltdown was building and she couldn’t stop it, could never stop it. 

Her mum stood too, moving slow, blocking her path without touching her.

“Okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to think about any of that right now.” Her mom’s attempts to comfort her were useless against the onslaught of emotions she was feeling. 

“I’m so angry,” Amelia choked out. “I finally feel calm, I finally feel seen, and it’s not allowed. I’m not allowed to want something or feel something if it’s inconvenient for anyone else!”

She was trembling now. Her skin felt wrong. Her body wasn’t hers anymore. She wanted to rip it off. She wanted to scream and break things. Instead, she clenched her fists and shook and shook and shook.

“Do you want me to get your things?” her mum asked, voice calm, anchoring.

Amelia nodded hard. “Yes. My weighted blanket. And the golf ball. It’s in my bag. Lando bought it for me and I want to hold it. It’s yellow.”

“I’ll get everything,” her mum said gently.

“I’m not doing this on purpose,” Amelia shouted, the volume jarring even to herself. “I’m trying so hard. All the time. I’m always trying.”

“I know,” her mum said. “And I’m proud of you. Every day.”

Amelia slid to the floor. Her body folded in on itself, hands clawed into her sleeves, breathing uneven.

The noise in her head kept rising.

Usually, this was when she wanted her dad. Wanted him to sit next to her. Watch a race in silence. Be there without asking anything of her.

But not now.

Now, all she wanted was for him to stay far, far away.

— 

It was almost midnight.

Her room was quiet now; weighted blanket pulled up to her chest, lights off, only the soft blue glow of her phone screen lighting her face. The golf ball sat in her right hand, warm from where she’d been holding it for hours. She kept rolling it between her fingers, feeling the small ridges, the smoothness. Grounding.

She had stopped shaking, but her body was aching like one big bruised muscle. 

She stared at the message thread with Lando, her thumb hovering, retreating, hovering again.

She didn’t know what to say.

Everything in her head still felt too big. Too messy. But the quiet between them was worse. Not bad, not uncomfortable, just... unfamiliar. She wanted to talk to him. 

Finally, she started typing. 

— 

iMessage — 10:11pm

Amelia I didn’t enjoy golf very much. But I liked being with you. Thank you for inviting me.

Lando Norris I’m glad you came anyway We had fun though, right? I had fun :)

Amelia Yes, I had fun. It was confusing. But in a good way. I liked learning something new.

Lando Norris I liked today too You were kind of great We should do more new things together. Just us

Amelia Maybe. I feel strange tonight. My head is a bit loud.

Lando Norris That’s alright

Amelia Do you think if I asked you questions about your Formula Three races… you would answer them?

Lando Norris Absolutely I’d love that Haven’t talked about F3 in ages Might be nice to remember

Amelia Okay. What did it feel like the first time you won?

Lando Norris Like my hands knew before I did Like the whole world stopped for one second so I could catch up It felt… right. Like I was exactly where I was supposed to be ya know 

Amelia Oh

Lando Norris: You okay?

Amelia: I forgot all the questions I had for you. Sorry.

Lando Norris That’s okay. Don’t worry. Your brain’s probably sleepy. It’s late Are you tired?

Amelia Yes. I got upset earlier for no reason and it’s made me tired I’ll go to sleep now. Thank you for texting me back. Goodnight.

Lando Norris You don’t have to thank me for that I like talking to you Feel better soon, yeah? Goodnight x

— 

The house was still, the kind of stillness that only came after a storm.

Tracy sat on the couch in the dark, legs curled beneath her, a half-cold mug of tea resting in her hands. She hadn’t moved since she’d come downstairs after leaving Amelia. The couch blanket was draped over her shoulders, but she still shivered slightly, not from the cold, but from the heavy weight of witnessing her daughter’s pain. 

Zak entered quietly, the door clicking shut behind him. He didn’t speak at first. Just stood in the doorway, tie loose, shoulders slumped, guilt etched deep into the lines around his eyes. After a long moment, he crossed the room and sat down beside her.

Tracy didn’t look at him. Just murmured, “She’s asleep now. I checked a minute ago.”

Zak nodded slowly. “She didn’t ask for me.”

“She didn’t want to be touched. Didn’t want help. Just needed space.” Tracy’s voice cracked, but she kept it steady. “She was barely holding on, Zak. I haven’t seen her like that in a long time.”

“I didn’t mean to make it worse,” he said too quickly. “I just… I thought I was protecting her.”

“I know you did,” Tracy replied gently.

Zak stared at the floor. “I didn’t think it would hurt her like this. I thought—” He faltered. “I thought keeping her away from Lando would keep things simple. Keep her safe. From getting hurt. Or confused. Or from people talking. From getting her hopes up.”

“You didn’t trust her,” Tracy said. Not accusing, just honest.

Zak exhaled hard. “No. I didn’t trust him.”

Tracy finally turned to look at him. “But he’s been good to her. You’ve seen that, surely.” 

“I have,” Zak admitted, tersely. 

“But it wasn’t on your terms,” Tracy said. “So you didn’t like it.”

Zak didn’t argue.

“She’s not a problem to solve, Zak. She’s our daughter. And she’s doing something incredibly brave. She’s opening up. She’s connecting. That’s huge for her.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “God, I know. I just…” He broke off, ran a hand through his hair. “Why did it have to be him? Why couldn’t it have been someone safer?”

“Because love isn’t safe,” Tracy said. “And friendship isn’t simple. And if you’re lucky enough to find someone who makes you feel okay in your skin, even just for a little while, that’s not a risk for someone like her. That’s a lifeline.”

Zak leaned back, scrubbing a hand over his face. He looked hollowed out. “I feel like I’ve completely blown it.”

“You haven’t,” Tracy said gently. “But you will if you keep pushing like this. If you keep trying to prevent something that is starting to seem pretty much inevitable.” 

Zak was quiet.

“She loves you,” Tracy added. “But she can’t keep fighting you on this. Not when she’s also fighting herself. That kind of pressure… it’ll break her.”

That landed like a stone. He blinked against the sting in his eyes and nodded, slow and tired. “Okay,” he whispered. “Yeah. Okay. Fine.”

Tracy leaned into him and kissed the rough edge of his jaw. “You’re a good father, Zak. She knows that. She’ll forgive you.”

Zak didn’t answer right away. Just stared at the dark hallway.

“She didn’t ask for me,” he said again, softer this time. Raw. Frayed.

Tracy sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. “I know, honey.”

— 

The flat was quiet, except for the hum of the fridge and the occasional thump of bass through the wall from the upstairs neighbours. Lando sat cross-legged on the sofa, eyes unfocused on the muted Rally Car stream playing on the TV. Max was in the kitchen, one sock on, microwaving some disastrous smelling leftover curry.

“You ever liked someone,” Lando said suddenly, not looking up, “so much that even the idea of them ruining your life doesn’t sound that bad?”

Max made a noise that landed somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “Christ, mate. What brought that on?”

Lando shrugged. “Dunno. I’ve just been thinking.”

“About Amelia?” Max asked, already knowing. He padded over and dropped into the armchair opposite, bowl in his lap.

Lando exhaled slowly. “I really fucking like her. It doesn’t make sense. She’s, I mean— Jesus, I don’t know. Feels like I can breathe right around her, you know?”

Max didn’t answer right away. Just stirred the curry and watched the screen for a second. Then, gently: “Yeah. I get that. But... Come on, mate. You sure this isn’t a bit too much, too fast?”

Lando looked over. Frowned. “What do you mean?”

Max shifted, trying to find words. “It’s not just about liking someone. It’s about who she is. Like, she’s your boss’s daughter. That’s... not insignificant here.”

“I know that.” Lando bit back. 

“Okay. But do you really know what it means? If something goes wrong, if it ends, and ends messy, it’s not like you can just walk away. There’s no possibility of a clean break with her.” 

Lando was quiet, but his jaw tightened.

“I’m not trying to scare you off,” Max added quickly. “I just... I know how much you’ve worked for this. Since you were, what, six? Your whole life’s been about driving. Being the best. And now you’re closer than ever.”

“I’m not giving up racing,” Lando snapped, defensive before Max even finished.

“I didn’t say you were,” Max snapped right back at him. “I just don’t want you to stop being Lando Norris: F1 driver and become Lando Norris: the guy who fucked around with his boss’ daughter, you know?”

Lando stared down at his hands. He felt like a piece of shit as he said, “Zak’s basically said the same thing. So has my dad.”

Max nodded. “‘Cause we’re all thinking the same thing, mate.” 

Lando rubbed his hands over his face and pulled his hood up. “Maybe you’re right,” he mumbled. “Maybe this isn’t... good timing.”

Max didn’t say anything. He just went back to eating, quiet again.

And Lando hated that suddenly it felt like all of their reasons made sense.

— 

The air was different now. Cooler. Thinner. The sun still came through her window in the morning, but it didn’t cling to the walls the same way. The trees had started to shift, just barely, into that pre-autumn colour. And Amelia felt like she was holding her breath all the time. For something. For nothing.

She hadn’t spoken to Lando for days. Not since she'd sent him a photo of the coffee shop in town that had spelled her name wrong again, and all she got back was a laughing emoji. No reply. No question. Just that.

It felt like a door closing very slowly. 

She was sitting in the bay window of her bedroom, blanket around her shoulders, golf ball in one hand and her phone in the other. It was the fourth time she'd opened their chat and closed it again. The most recent messages sat there like ghosts. 

—

iMessage — 9:04am

Amelia Hope you’re not too tired from training. 

—

Read. Two days ago. No response.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure what to write that wouldn’t sound… needy. Or hurt. Or desperate. God, she hated the idea of being too much. It made her skin itch. She didn’t want to become exactly what people were always assuming that she’d be.

She pressed her palms to her eyes, trying to steady her breathing, her thoughts, her everything. But it hurt in a way she didn’t understand; this slow, quiet loss. It hurt in a way she didn’t have a name for. It felt a lot like emptiness.

“Don’t spiral,” she whispered to herself, rocking gently, rhythmically. “Don’t spiral. Don’t spiral.”

But it felt like she already was.

— 

Both McLaren cars DNF’d in Belgium; the first race back after the Summer break.

She’d written it down two hours before lights out — in the margin of an old notebook, under a page of technical notes she hadn’t meant to be looking at anymore. The exact reason. The probable lap. A strange little instinct that curled in her gut and told her today’s not going to go the way they want it to.

She closed the notebook and put it back in the drawer, and told herself it didn’t matter.

Nobody would ever know. Nobody would ever ask. Because she wasn’t in the garage. Wasn’t in the paddock. Wasn’t even watching from the hospitality suite like she always did, like clockwork.

She was in Woking. In her bedroom. As far from Lando’s garage, from the paddock, as she could possibly be.

And on the TV, when the Sky Sports commentator mentioned her absence like it was some small anomaly (“No sign of Amelia Brown in Norris’ McLaren garage today. Odd, considering she rarely misses a weekend”) she didn’t feel flattered or seen or missed.

She felt sick.

Like the air got thinner the second they said her name.

So she turned it off.

Just like that.

The screen went dark. The sound cut out. And for the first time in ten years, she didn’t watch the entire race.

Not because she didn’t want to. 

But because it hurt too much.

NEXT CHAPTER

[morose-melodies]

Welcome back! So happy to see that you are doing well ☺️

Since requests are open, I was wondering if you could write some headcanons/drabbles about how the Genshin men (including Pierro, Capitano, and Dottore my fave) would react if their darling, who was pregnant with their child, tried to run away? Saying "I refuse to raise my child with a monster like you!"

what it takes to love | various yandere! fatui harbingers x pregnant reader

content warning: mentions of blood, idk if childe's being sorta trad or not but I'll still put it here. I'm also a bit rusty so they might be ooc...

a/n: definitely not a drabble... I hope you enjoy!

CAPITANO

with the newfound knowledge that you were gone, the captain was on the way home.

there was not a lick of hesitation, no, he dropped everything. your leaving meant you were alone on a cold night while pregnant. who knew what trouble you could be in?

the captain knew you couldn't travel far-- it was too dark, too cold. all that surrounded the manor was woods and woods. he made sure to wear his thickest coat and brought with him his weapon in case you were in true danger. he saw your footprints in the snow, it looked as if you were stumbling about in the cold.

Oh, poor you.

this isn't how things should be-- you, running about at night without him there to protect you. you should be in the safety of his arms, in the walls of his manor.

he wouldn't try to further frighten you, that must be why you ran, no? he would place his coat over you and take you home with him.

following those footprints, it seemed you tumbled and fell a couple of times. you couldn't possibly be in a good state. (y/n)... where could you be ?

"(y/n)," the captain called out. he saw you, your cowering form, pressed against a tree, using one of his coats you'd taken with you to warm yourself, "oh, (y/n)."removing his coat, he set it over your shoulders and lifted you into his arms, expecting you to comply.

"no! st-stop. let me go, i... I'm fine!" you'd argue, though, it seemed you were in no state to.

"(y/n), no," the captain shook his head, trying to keep a gentle hold on you even as you squirmed and argued, "you're tired- you don't understand what you're saying. I'll be taking you home."

"i know what I'm saying," you shook your head, pressing your hand against his mask, attempting to push him away, "i don't want to be with you or near you! l-let go of me!"

the cold must be getting to you, capitano reasoned, who knows how long you've been out here? you're clearly not in your right mind. pressing a hand against your cheek, he felt your skin, he felt how cold it was. you needed to be home and in bed. "hush, you're delirious. (y/n), stop fighting me, i need to bring you home. you're harming yourself *and* our child."

"let go of me! stop- i refuse to raise my child with a monster like you!"

his hold on you loosened-- he was stunned, caught off guard. a monster? his hand gripped at the fabric of the coat over your shoulders, "is that truly what you think of me?"

you hated him? that was why you ran? "(y/n)," the captain repeated, his grip on the coat lessened, "answer me. is that what you think of me?"

do you understand how that makes him feel?

it's not as if you always thought this of him, this was a recent development. after getting pregnant, he was... more protective. he took extreme measures to keep you home, to "keep you safe."

it drove you mad.

so, when you woke up one morning to see that all of the house staff, including your maid that you truly loved, had been replaced-- you knew you had to leave.

"yes, yeah..." you nodded, a stray tear running down your cheek, "so, let me down- let me go," you demanded once more, squirming, trying to get away from him once more.

capitano raised his hand and wiped away that stray tear, "(y/n), do not say that-- not to me, not to my face," his hand dropped back to his side. he needed you home with him, now.

and that need was stronger than any other feeling he had at this very moment.

holding you against his chest, trying to keep you as warm as possible as he worked on getting you home.

he needed you back home; whatever happened afterward could happen, as long as you were home with him.

DOTTORE

how things seemed, you enjoy causing dottore problems.

if you weren't knocking his vials over, you were barging in on his experiments, and if not that, you'd rejected him when he expressed even the slightest bit of affection.

it was always something with you.

and now, on his day off-- on the one day when he had nothing to do and nothing planned, you ran away, or at least you tried to.

dottore refused to let his good day be ruined by something so trivial, so he took precautions.

knowing you, you would do something so he prepared for just about anything you could do.

just about anything... well, he didn't expect you, a pregnant woman, to attempt to jump out of your window to get away from him.

he heard the tell-tale shatter of glass and just knew it was you-- it was always you. he begrudgingly got up from where he was resting and went to your room, where you were halfway out of your window, bloodied from the broken glass digging into your skin.

dottore sighed, "goodness, (y/n)," dottore was approaching you and you could hear him coming closer, so, you tried to lunge yourself out of the window, to get away from him-- to protect your future.

pressing your hands against the sides of the window, you pushed yourself forward, slipping out of the window, but, of course, dottore caught you by the ankle just as you were falling.

you wasted not even a second before you began screaming and swearing at him, trying to squirm out of his grip, "let me go! let go-" you kicked at him as he dragged you back into the room.

once you were in, lying on the glass-covered floor, somewhat numb to the pain, dottore stood somewhere near your side, his arms crossed over his chest, looking down at you. he was disappointed, but why?

"don't... lie in the glass. (y/n)..." he sighed once more, and reached out, grabbing your arm and helping you stand.

it was then that he assessed your injuries, asking that you stand still as he looked at your bloodied arms and torso area-- it was painfully cut from the glass.

*you must be in pain, no?* dottore mused, straightening his back as he looked at the thin layer of blood coated on his fingertip, "I'll forget about this-- I'll even forgive you for... attempting this," dottore assured you, holding your arm as he began to guide you out of your room, "I'll forgive you, i just ask that you never attempt such a thing again."

but... you refused, tugging your arm back and out of his hold, "Don't touch me-- i don't *need* your forgiveness!"

you'd never hated him quite as much as you did after finding out that dottore had no problem with experimenting on children that the knave gave him.

it made you sick. you couldn't allow your child to grow up with a man like him, "i *refuse* to raise my child with a monster like you."

dottore's eyebrow twitched, though you couldn't see it. he thought he knew what to expect from you, but, you always surprise him, "a monster? can you genuinely call me such a thing after all I've done for you?"

when you nodded, dottore stifled his third sigh and brought you along with him, despite all of your arguing and fighting. "(y/n), you're hurt. let me clean those wounds of yours. since you cannot accept my forgiveness and let this go, we'll have a talk tomorrow."

dottore cared for you, of course, he did.

he realized just how much he cared for you-- just how much he needed you when he felt his heart drop at the sight of you trying to leave.

he understood just then how much he'd hate it if you left him.

a/n: lowkey ooc...

PIERRO

escape was impossible.

with guards at your door, and all around pierro's manor, you couldn't escape.

but, when pierro found out that you had still tried to leave him-- attempting to walk right out the front door, dressed as if you had places to be, he was displeased.

he was immediately informed of this.

so, as you tried to open the gate that was locked, pierro approached you, "(y/n), where exactly are you going?" he asked, stopping to stand right behind you, "it's cold, and you aren't dressed for the weathers condition... ah, aren't you supposed to inform me of where it is you want to go before going?"

pierro knew exactly what you were doing but for you, he could play dumb. it was better than making you feel cornered and possibly upsetting you further.

he could change, he wasn't above it. after all, there weren't many things he wouldn't do for you.

he held his hand out for you, hoping you'd take it, hoping you wouldn't give him trouble-- not now, not when he was in such a generous mood.

you didn't take his hand, no, you weren't even looking at him as you said, "I'd like to go... I want to stay with my family."

your family? pierro felt his eyes twitch-- he wouldn't allow himself to be seen as the jealous type, no, pierro instead nodded his head slowly, "why don't we go back in? it's terribly cold tonight, is it not?" he'd tried to change the subject, try to ease you back into the house without an argument.

"no, uh... I've got a ride. i just need the gate to open."

pierro saw and understood what you were feeling perfectly-- desperation. "we can talk about this tomorrow, no? it's late, (y/n), im not particularly in the mood to be standing out in the cold while you talk about leaving me."

"pierro- im leaving... I'll send you letters and I-I'll even come to visit," you offered, taking a step towards the gate, looking at the lock, that stopped you from leaving.

"no, no, (y/n), you aren't leaving, at any point. how ever you feel, I'm sure you'd feel better if you spoke to me about how you feel-"

"i want to leave because i dont want to raise my child with you."

first, you cut him off, and now you say this? "you're being very rude-- now, we're going back inside. do not argue with me," pierro took your hand into his and began to guide you back toward the manor.

"no! let go, stop it!" you would drag your feet, crying and arguing, "I don't want to be here! not with you! st-stop it! let me go!"

it saddened him, truly, to hear you cry and beg so desperately, but those words rolled off of him. he didn't care at the moment; he just needed to get you back into the manor, and whatever happened after didn't matter.

he'd have a talk with the guards too.

"You're so evil! let me go-! let me be!" you'd argued, dragging your feet, attempting to make things harder for him, "i refuse to have a child with a monster like you!!"

you couldn't imagine raising a child in this environment, in the fatui...

pierro stilled, glancing back at you, his grip on your hand tightened-- then immediately loosened, "you're testing my patience, (y/n). please, just come inside with me. we can talk about this inside."

because there were fewer places to run inside.

(y/n), you truly are a work of art, pierro mused, as he dragged you along, well, he attempted to be gentle but you were making it hard for him.

but since it was you, he'd do anything, even tolerate your rude behavior, since you were his woman and his alone.

CHILDE

when childe found you, whenever that was, there was no telling what could happen or what he'd do. he loved you, that much was obvious but he was an impulsive guy.

maybe he'd take off his coat and put it over you-- you'd like that, wouldn't you? or maybe, just maybe, he'd hug you out in the blistering cold until he felt good enough to release you... which would be near to never.

or maybe he'd react in anger. again, he loved you, it was inconsiderate, rude even, to leave him while you were pregnant with his child. didn't you promise to start a family with you? (he misheard you. you said you didn't want to start a family with him.)

he wouldn't let his anger get the best of him, no. he was better than that-- he was raised better than that. yeah, he was raised better than that.

childe raised his hand and wiped at the tip of his nose, he was cold. he couldn't image how you'd be feeling right now.

that was all more the reason to find you as soon as possible!

he took this journey alone. he thought it would be somewhat intimate if he found you on his own, it would be manly too-- you'd think he's the type of man you want to raise children with... that's what he thought anyway.

you got a bit of a head start on him, he had just gotten back to snezhnaya when he was informed that you had run off a few hours before he'd gotten back.

oh, he was worried. real worried.

he forgot everything he was planning to do-- eat, change into something warmer, brush his hair, those sorts of things, he forgot all about. you were more important!

before running off, you were staying with his family. it was probably easy for you to leave, just say you're going for a walk and never come back, since his family didn't exactly know all about your relationship with him and how he sorta smuggled you into snezhnaya.

he got home and followed after your footprints for a good while. the sun was setting, and it was only getting colder; at this point, you were probably regretting leaving him and wished to be at home in his arms-- that was just an assumption, of course.

when he finally saw you, in a thin dress and coat, stumbling up a snowy hill, he smiled. (y/n)! its (y/n)!

oh, he felt so relieved to see you!

running past all the bushes and trees in his way, he ran straight into you, hugging you tightly from behind, his hands on your pregnant belly.

"are you hurt anywhere?" that was the first question he asked as he turned you to face him, patting his hands over your arms, checking for any signs of blood on your or your clothes.

he leaned in once again, hugging you after being sure you weren't injured, and his second question, asked in a muffled voice by your ear, was, "What'd ya go running off for?"

"because I don't want to have a child with you."

huh, it seemed childe couldn't hear all of a sudden, as he released you from the hug and slipped his coat off, tossing it over your shoulders, "bet you're cold, huh? now, what'd you say?"

"i do not want to have a child with you."

again, it went through one ear and out the other for childe. he wasn't hearing things right, he couldn't be, could he? "huh? what was that?" his eyebrows raised, and he leaned closer, gesturing for you to repeat yourself once more.

now annoyed, you leaned closer, saying, "I'm leaving you because i dont want to have a child with someone like you."

he straightened his posture, backing away with a less-than-happy expression-- he looked defeated. so, he was hearing things right, huh...

"we gotta see it through... y'know that, right?" still holding your hand, his grip loosened. childe had never felt quite so... sad? angry? betrayed? before.

"no, we don't. I want to go back home, I'll see it through with my famil-"

"we are family," quickly cutting you off, he corrected you, his fingers tensed around your hand, "I'm your family-- everyone back at home is your family. we're your family so why are you trying to leave us?"

he bit at his bottom lip as a means of stopping it from quivering but you could see the tears in his eyes.

"are you kidding me? you forced me to be here with you! you think i came here willingly or someth-"

"you promised me we'd make a family together! you said it yourself, so, why're you acting like you hate me?" his hold on your hand tightened, and he leaned closer to you.

he was desperate-- he didn't want to hear this! not from you, not from anyone he loved, but especially not from you because he didn't just love you; he loved you.

attempting to tug your hand away from him, you shook your head, "I never said that, ever. let go of me- i wouldn't... i refuse to raise my child with someone like you!"

everything he thought knew and believed came crumbling down around him, " oh, well... i don't care," he replied-- he had abandoned his feelings for you, for now at least, he just needed to get you home without harming you, "I love you and... I guess, sometimes that's all that matters."

you could figure it out later-- you could learn to love him later but he loved you now and couldn't let you go so easily.

[salty-autistic-writer]

Buck has something to say. (Or: an alternative take on that kitchen scene)

“I think you should leave.”

The words cut into the cold, tense air in the kitchen like a knife.

They take Buck's breath away for a stunned, heart-stuttering moment. Did that just come out of his mouth?

Eddie finally looks at him, finally sees him. “What?” He asks, baffled.

“I want you to leave,” Buck repeats. And yes. He does. He’s tired of this. Tired in general. Enough.

Eddie blinks, his lips slightly parted. He exhales a disbelieving scoff, throwing his hands in the air. “Really? We are doing this now? Now, when we are both grieving? Seriously, Buck …”

“How dare you?” Buck hisses, curling a hand into a fist. “How dare you suggest I didn’t do what I could. That I didn’t do enough to, to save Bobby?”

“Buck,” Eddie starts.

No.

Buck raises his hand. “Now you listen. You listen to me. I watched him die, Eddie. I watched Bobby die. I saw death on his face, in his eyes. I was there. And I was alone. Bobby knew he was going to die, and he sent me away. He … He said I’m going to be fine. But I’m not. I’m not fine. And that’s okay. Because I just lost one of the most important people in my life. Bobby was the father I never had.”

Eddie sneers. “Bobby was your Captain. Our Captain. We all lost him! You don’t get to claim him! We all have to live without him, move on with our lives. But you don’t see any of us behaving like a child throwing a tantrum!”

Buck crosses his arms over his chest, his blood rushing in his ears. “I’m not a child, Eddie. I’m an adult, and I have enough of you telling me how I’m supposed to feel. These last few days, I’ve been thinking about the 118 all the time. About how to fix everything. Because everything feels so cold without Bobby. Everything feels broken.” 

He stops, swallowing heavily. There are so many emotions bubbling up inside of him. And now he can’t stop. He has to let it out.

“You are my best friend, Eddie. I thought friends are supposed to be there for each other. I thought a friend would be able to offer some kind of comfort. But I guess you’ve been too busy with your own grief. Look. I’m sorry you had to wake up at night and hear about this over the phone. But that’s not my fault. And it’s not my fault that you had to tell Chris either. It’s also not my fault that Bobby died. I didn’t want any of this to happen. And every day, I wish I could go back in time to change things.

I’m not okay. And you should know. But here you are, telling me I might not have done enough. You of all people should know. You should know what Bobby meant to me. But it starts to feel like you don’t know me at all. I’m not that great at communicating my feelings or, or my needs. But I’m working on it. And what I can tell you right now is that I’m tired of this, Eddie. I’m tired of being blamed and being told I’m making everything about me, when actually, my stomach, chest, and head hurt every day when I think about everyone else and how sad they are. That includes you, by the way. But I guess, in some way, I lost you too. Now, leave. I want you to leave.”

Buck stops, breathing heavily. It’s been a long time since he talked so much. Maybe he never did. But he needed this. Needed to get this weight off his heart.

The rage inside him is loud. But the sad and aching part of him hopes that Eddie will say No, I won’t leave. Hopes that he will stay. That he will say, it’s okay, we can solve this problem. We can talk. We can comfort each other. We can work on fixing this.

He looks at Eddie, and inside, he’s yelling. Say something.

But Eddie only stares at him, his brows furrowed and his jaw tense. Finally, he nods curtly and says, “Alright. Alright, Buck.”

He storms out of the kitchen. Buck can hear him pack his bag. His stomach sinks. So. That’s it then. There’s nothing left to fight for, it seems.

His heart pounding, Buck waits in the silence until he hears Eddie walk out and slam the door.

He winces, wrapping his arms around himself, breathing heavily. He feels so cold. And alone. Tears are burning in his eyes.

God. Everything is so broken.

Buck wipes at his eyes with the back of his head, sniffs, and reaches for his phone with a shaky hand. He hesitates. Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe it’s selfish. But … he needs. He needs a little bit of warmth.

Hey. Can you come over? Only if you have time. I really need to talk to someone.

He sends the text after staring at it for a few long minutes and tries to ignore the voice in his head calling him pathetic.

* Buck opens the door and Tommy smiles at him, “Hey - What’s going on?”

Too much.

Almost instantly, the smile fades and Tommy’s brows furrow as his eyes flicker over Buck’s face, down to where he’s nervously fidgeting with his fingers.

“Evan. Are you okay?”

No.

Buck just shakes his head. He talked so much. Now, he doesn’t have any more words left. He’s empty. 

Ashamed, he lowers his head. Avoids prying eyes. He shouldn’t be like this. He’s an adult. Maybe Eddie is right. Maybe he is nothing but a child throwing a tantrum, making everything about himself …

“Come here,” Tommy says softly.

Buck looks up, seeing Tommy opening his arms. He exhales shakily and falls forward into the embrace. Sinks into it. Into the warmth. He closes his eyes and allows himself to feel safe for a moment.

Everything is broken, but this feels like a shell he can hide in. At least for the moment.

(AO3 Link)

[gumisgirlmist]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐣𝐣𝐤 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐮 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞

jjk men headcanons + fics

Including : Megumi Fushiguro, Toji Fushiguro, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Yuuji Itadori, Ryomen Sukuna

.ೃ࿐

Megumi Fushiguro

Megumi isn’t the talkative type, especially if he’s tired but he knew he had to tell you he loved you and wasn’t here to just use your body. He would gently clean your body in a warm bath hen change you into his clothes as he would gently cuddle your sore body, treating you like a fragile peice of glass. He would allow you to do whatever and always have his eyes locked on your face incase you showed some sort of pain.

“Is everything ok..? Do you need painkiller? Are you hungry?” He’d ask softly. Overall he would definitely do whatever you’d request and after his errands you've requested are finished, he would probably endup asleep cuddling you.

Toji Fushiguro

Like Megumi, Toji isn't the best with words but he is great when it comes to physical touch. He would clean you up and bathe you in his warm bathtub and then tuck you to bed. He would gently massage your aching body as he would also praise you.

"You did so well for me, baby." or "You're so pretty like this" while giving your face soft and gentle kisses.

Gojo Satoru

After your intimate interaction, he would probably take a quick and warm shower with you then cling to you in bed for the rest of the night while also giggling like a child into your neck, feeling proud that he had intercourse with you.

"Can we get some snacks pleaasee" He'd while while playing with your hair.

Geto Suguru

"Since you took me so well.. I'll let you wash my hair" He'd say, knowing that he absolutely HATED it when anyone even tried touching his hair but if it was you? Oh he would be more than OK with it. You two would have a warm bath together and after he has cleaned you up, he would allow you to clean his hair. After that, he'd carry you to bed and snuggle up with you.

Nanami Kento

As we all know, Nanami is a pure gentleman (Maybe not during intercourse). He would ask if you needed anything like "Sweetheart, do you want some water?" "How is your back feeling?" and he would DEFINITELY apologise, "Love, i'm dearly sorry for going so rough on you.. I shouldn't have".

He would wash you up, give you massages and basically do anything you requested.

Yuuji Itadori

Him having intercourse with you would probably be his first time but he would be absolutely livid.. and exhausted. He would clean you up with a warm towel then quickly cuddle with you.

"i want to cuddle with you foreveeeerrrrrrr" He'd mumble and yes, he'd whine if you asked him to get you water or anything like that but he would cling to you if you went to the kitchen to help yourself to whatever.

Sukuna Ryomen

Sukuna 100% WOULDN'T be exhausted at all but he would definitely notice it after your breaths started slowing down, and your whimpering got more frequent.

"We shall stop now" He would say and tell Urame to setup a warm bath for you. He'd try to ease out all your stress by massaging your body and then getting his servants to prepare you favourite meal for you. If you were too tired, he'd feed you himself.

After that, he'd carry you back to bed and then watch you sleep. Not in a weird way though!!

[coldfanbou]

Fair is Fair

We get to learn a little bit about Mina in this fic. Turns out she's a little needy.

Length 2.3K

Mina X Mreader

Previous Part

Next Part

Once Chaeyoung had left your home, you lay on the couch, wanting nothing more than to relax when your phone began vibrating. It was a series of messages. “Why did Momo get a turn?” was the first one that got your attention. You wonder who would know about your night with Momo and Jihyo. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you open your messages. You scroll to the top and realize it’s Mina messaging you. The rest of her messages were her complaints about being left out.

“I’m not the one that decided that,” you reply.

“Well, I want a turn; it’s been so long since I’ve been with someone.” She texts back before she begins calling your phone. You pick up the phone and instantly hear Mina's voice come through, “It’s not fair that Momo gets to have fun with you. We share everything, and she shouldn’t be able to have fun with you alone.” she repeats, her voice high. Mina’s whines were odd to you. From the small amount of time you had spent together, she had acted much more like a lady, so her complaining like a bratty child was weird, for lack of a better word. 

“Mina, things just happened. What do you want me to do about it.”

“Tonight, you and I are going out, no ifs, ands, or buts.”

“Mina,”

“No, we’re going out.” Mina whines, the soft pounding of something heard in the background. On the other side of the phone, Mina kicked her feet against her bed, cheeks full of air as she pouted. “I want to go out tonight, and then we can spend the night at your place. Chaeyoung got to fuck you last night, why can’t I?” You question the last part, your mind working slowly until you figure out that the friend Chaeyoung had been talking about was, in fact, Mina.  “Chaeyoung was showing us pictures last night, and I couldn’t believe it was you. I want my turn now!” She whined, kicking her feet again. 

You reluctantly agree, too tired to put up a fight. “Alright, fine, but you plan the date.” 

“Really?” Mina almost shouts, the glee in her voice ringing out.

“Yes, give me the details, and I’ll meet you there.” You were already tired of the situation. You place your phone on the coffee table before shutting your eyes. 

When you wake up from your short nap you have several messages on your phone from Mina, including the time and place for your date. You check the clock and realize there isn’t much time left. You get yourself ready, already regretting giving in to Mina so easily. You head to the address Mina had sent you. Arriving at the address, you double-check to make sure it’s the right place. You question Mina’s choice of a Lego cafe, but soon enough, you see her arrive, standing outside the cafe and typing something out on her phone. Your phone buzzes a second later, “Where are you?” 

“Okay, guess this is the right place.” You say to yourself before getting out of the car. You walk up to Mina, who smiles when she sees you. She’s dressed casually, wearing oversized jeans and a hoodie.

“Let’s go!” Mina says, taking your hand and heading inside, grabbing a table for the two of you. 

“What kind of place is this Mina?”

“It’s a Lego cafe,” Mina says, stating the obvious.

“I know that, but why here? Why have the date here?”

“It’s fun,” Mina says, pulling out a set of legos from under her sweater. You feel like you’re in another world as Mina begins playing with the set. Looking at the box, you see it’s a car she’s building. You’re more confused than anything else; you never would have thought Mina would be interested in something like this. Seeing her pull a box set from under her sweater was another can of worms in and out of itself. You watch the young woman smile to herself as she puts the pieces together. It was cute, almost innocent. You feel out of place as she continues to build the car. “We’ll get you a set,” Mina says without looking up at you. 

As the waiter comes around, Mina takes charge, ordering coffee for both of you and a Lego set for you to work on. You sighed briefly, “I didn’t expect this would be our date. I thought you’d want to do something else.”  You pick at the set Mina had chosen for you; it was a set of flowers, something simple.

You build your set while watching Mina work on hers, “Do you do this often?”

She nods, focusing intently on the tiny stickers she had to place on the Lego pieces. “Yeah, I think it’s fun building these sets. Most guys don’t really like it, though; they think it’s childish.”

“It kind of is, but if you enjoy it, you should be able to share that.” You reply as you look through the instructions. “If they don’t like it and don’t want to date you because of it, that’s their problem.” Mina glances up from her set, looking at you before continuing to build it.

“Thanks,” she murmurs. “It’s peaceful building these,” Mina pauses as the coffee arrives, taking her time to sip from the hot cup before returning to her build.

“I thought you would just want to get straight to business. Not go on a date first.”

“I-well, I thought it would be rude to go to your house and do it.” Mina stammers, “I thought this would be better; besides, I wanted to build this set. I’ve had it for a month.” Mina says, trying to give another reason for the date. She hoped you wouldn’t see the price tag on the box. She had bought the Lego set before coming here. After your call with her had ended, she got flustered and went out to buy it. 

“So what else do you like?” 

“Games, video games,” Mina says, drawing out another question from you. “I like Minecraft; it’s a lot like Legos. I like building things more than going on adventures.” You nod along and continue asking Mina questions about herself. She slowly grows more comfortable as the date goes on, and once she finishes her build and you finish yours, the two of you decide to leave.

Mina places her little car in the back seat, with your plant, staring at them as you drive home, hoping nothing happens to them.

As you arrive in the parking lot, Mina slips a pill into her mouth and swallows it, preparing herself for a long evening. The effects are immediate as she feels her body begin to heat up. Walking to the door, Mina grows anxious, her body growing needy.

Reaching the door, Mina throws herself at you, wrapping her arms around your neck as she presses her lips against yours. “Let’s get started,” You struggle to open the door but eventually manage it, moving inside with Mina. She grabs your hands, moving them under her sweater. You feel her toned stomach as she drags your arms up her body until you reach her modest chest. Mina cranes her neck, letting you mark her body with hickeys as you lead her to the bedroom. Mina’s nipples rub against the palm of your hand, and she lets out a light moan as you squeeze her breasts. You push the door open and place Mina on the bed. You pull the hoodie off her before continuing to mark her body, her moans growing louder as you tease her nipples. Mina holds you against her chest, wanting to keep you there forever as you begin tugging at her jeans. 

Mina grabs your hands, stopping your advance. When you look up at her, her eyes are already on yours. “Before we keep going, I want to tell you something, but you have to promise not to tell anyone else.” 

“Okay, I promise,” You state to her, staring into her eyes and creating a sense of trust.

“Momo doesn’t know about this, but…” Mina’s face becomes flushed as she struggles to finish her sentence. “Can I call you Daddy? I like it better this way; please take the lead.”

For the second time today, Mina stunned you. “Uhm, sure, that’s fine.” This version of Mina was a lot different from the woman you had sex with a couple of weeks ago. Whereas when she was drunk, she degraded herself, Mina seemed more soft when she was sober. Mina giggles as she unbuttons her jeans and lets you pull them off. You become distracted, thinking to yourself how Mina has been the opposite of what you expected of her as she reaches down and rubs your bulge. 

“You’re so big,” Mina whispers, “Can I see it, Daddy?” You nod and lay back on the bed, letting Mina pull your pants off you; she slowly moves her head over your crotch, her long fingers pulling at your underwear. A smile creeps onto Mina as she tugs at your underwear, and your cock flops out. She grasps it gently, her hand moving along it slowly.

“Keep going, Mina, that feels good.” You groan.

The young woman drips her saliva onto your cock, spreading it out as she runs her hand along her shaft. “I want you, Daddy, in here.” She says, placing her other hand on her stomach. Mina stares into your eyes as she strokes your cock, her body growing hotter as she becomes more eager to move on. Mina flashes her gummy smile as she uses both hands to stroke your cock, rubbing the tip with the palm of one as the other runs along your shaft. You groan Mina’s name, the pleasure flowing through you as she leans down and kisses the tip. Mina smiles after, feeling shy. 

“Mina, I want you.” The young woman’s heart skips a beat after hearing your order. She straddles you, rubbing her lips along your cock and moaning as she prepares herself. The heat coming from your cock, makes Mina want more. She doesn’t wait long before lifting herself and rubbing the tip between her folds. Light moans escape Mina’s lips as she slowly sinks onto your cock, her walls squeezing your shaft as she slips more into her cunt. Mina places her hands on your chest as she begins to feel full. 

Mina rides you, her hips rocking back and forth as she leans back. “You’re so big,” she groans. The young woman bites her lip as she moves up and down your shaft, slowly putting more force into her bounce as she takes every inch inside her. “Mmm, Daddy,” Mina moans, her strength slowly leaving her body, leaving you to thrust into her. You roll Mina onto her back and lift her lower half, continuing to thrust into her. Mina’s moans only get louder; she grips the bedsheets, getting closer to cumming. She wraps her arms around you, holding you tightly as you ram more of your length inside her. “D-daddy, you’re so deep,” she whines, her legs wrapping around you. You kiss Mina’s neck and listen to her whimpers. Your hands grip the back of her thighs; they quiver as you push Mina closer to her climax.

“Cum for me, baby. Cum for Daddy,” you growl in a low voice. Mina’s body tenses, and she cries out as she cums. You continue thrusting into her tightening cunt, driving Mina mad. She continues to moan, “Daddy, wait!” She whines, her body becoming overrun by the pleasure. 

“I’m going to cum, Mina,” you groan. 

“I want Daddy’s cum. I want it inside me,” Mina moans, the pleasure breaking her as she feels your cock throbbing inside her. As you're about to cum you bury yourself inside Mina, your cum pouring into her cunt. “Oh, Daddy, more,” Mina moans. You kiss the young woman, shutting her up for a moment as you enjoy her body, her cunt milking you.

“Does my baby want more?” You ask, running your finger between Mina’s tits. 

“Yes, Daddy. Please give me more,” Mina says, biting her fingertip as she uses her other hand to spread her lips. “Please fuck me again, Daddy.” The sight of your seed leaking out of her cunt gets you hard again, and you slide back into Mina, gripping her ass as you begin thrusting again. 

As you fuck her to another climax, you feel something rub against your finger. Moving your hand just a little, you feel a plug. “Does my baby have a plug in her?” You whisper into Mina’s ear. 

“Yes, Daddy.” Mina says with a pout, “I want to save that for later.” she says softly. You leave it alone for now and continue fucking the young woman until you’re both exhausted. As you lay beside Mina, your chest heaving, you comment on her other side.

“This is a lot different from our first time together. So you have Sharon, and this is Mina?”

Mina looks away from you, covering her face. “It’s only when I’m drunk. I say a lot of things when I’m drunk.” She admits.

You laugh at Mina, “Oh yeah? Like ‘cum inside my slutty pussy’ or ‘fuck me like a whore’”  Mina’s mind flashes back to the first time you had sex, and she grows more embarrassed. “So, which do you like more?” You lean in closely to Mina’s ear and run your hand along her body, pushing two fingers inside her cum-filled cunt. “Or is it both?” You ask her, “Are you my slutty baby?” Mina gasps, and her body shivers. She bites her lip and nods.

“I like both,”