#his inner child is so happy in this scene

[zsbrainrot]

Happy Buddy Daddies Friday! I wanted to do a redraw from ep 4 since it came out about a year ago. Also a little doodle of a scene I like to think happened offscreen 🥰

[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

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

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 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

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 !!

<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

[lullabyes22-blog]

"I think the cycle only ends when you find the will to walk away."

Got a lot of Q's for this in my inbox. Figured I'd just address them here.

tw: mentions of suicide, suicidal ideation

Re: the ending of S2:

Jinx did not die.

She symbolically killed her old self, and with it, her last ties to the past that imprisoned her. She understood that for her sister to move on and live her life - be happy without guilt - she'd have to renounce the bonds that held them together.

Her talk with ghostly Silco was the 'sign-off' she'd been waiting for, ever his dutiful daughter. Throughout S2, she kept hoping he'd haunt her, and in doing so, offer some impetus given her aimlessness. Maybe just straight up boss her around, and tell her how she's supposed to exist now that he's no longer there to be a (subversive if loving) guiding hand.

But it was the promise of time (as represented by Ekko) healing old wounds, and the courage to feel, as she once had - a hopeful child with a hopeful future - that allowed Jinx to commit impetus to action.

Her blimp-ship in the climactic battle is a tribute to Isha - but also to the child in Jinx's own fractured psyche: Powder. She's letting both little girls have one last hurrah before she takes care of business - and cuts off the last oaths, duties and commitments that bind her to a past whose parameters she's outgrown.

Better still, she knows she's got the capacity to outgrow them.

That was the point of Jinx's arc with Isha, and why, no matter my misgivings on Isha's character herself, I found Jinx's trajectory towards a more nurturing and fun-loving figure more life-affirming and positive than the straightforward 'Daddy's Villain Goes Postal' shtick.

It's even why there's a minigame titled Jinx Fixes Everything. It's Jinx, struggling and stumbling, as she tries to rewrite her narrative, and finds in herself the capacity to do good.

To fix things that seem irreparably broken.

And to understand why she's reached this stage, we've got to let go of our tendency to project our own stuff onto Jinx (precious meow meow, unrepentant terrorist, manic pixie crazypants, edgy hot psycho) and acknowledge the purpose she plays in Arcane's thematic structure.

Jinx's character comes off as a death-seeker, and that's no shocker. She is hounded by terrible guilt and loss. She's got blood on her hands, and ghosts on her heels, and no matter what she does, she can't seem to be rid of them. Her inner mind's fractured, her mannerisms ooze pure chaos, and she seems a creature of pure feral impulse and no mercy.

That's the Jinx we're accustomed to seeing in S1 - except that's also both the front she's most likely to put on during that timeline, and the persona that is necessary for her to inhabit to survive, as Silco's daughter and his top enforcer.

Then Silco kicks the bucket, she symbolically fulfills his dream by shooting at the Council HQ, she accepts that she must inhabit this path of shadows and loneliness (as symbolized by her starkly decorated chair in the tea party scene), she accepts the fragmented push-and-pull between past and present, and...

And now what?

Silco's given her a semblance of direction for six years, and he's gone. Vi, the sister she'd hoped would return, and whom she'd hinged so many childishly idealized hopes on, is herself traumatized, and afraid of what her sister's become.

Jinx has her shadows and her loneliness. Jinx is traumatized. Jinx is suicidal.

But Jinx is still, whatever else, alive.

And all living things need connections.

That's why we as the audience enjoy her little found family dynamic with Isha and Sevika. It's Jinx, taking the first tentative steps to reach out to people beyond Silco and Vi, and realizing, wow, she enjoys the pay-off.

And all throughout S2, we see Jinx growing more and more comfortable in this newfound space - even jealously guarding it at the expense of Zaun's liberty, and Silco's wishes, because she can't bear to lose what she's found.

And what she finds empowers her enough that, when Warwick shows up, she's actually willing to reach out to Vi, and call upon their family connection, because Jinx is learning the value of bonds, not as baling hooks of guilt, but as buoys to carry her forward.

That's the story Jinx's relationships serve to tell in S2. Each one shapes the choice she makes in the finale. Until she learns to accept the past (Vi), to lay the monsters to rest (Silco and Vander/Warwick), forgive herself (Caitlyn) trust that time heals all wounds (Ekko), and hope for happier new beginning (Isha), she'll never trust herself enough to just seize the chance.

Jinx's culminating arc is not about death, much less self-erasure. It's about resurrection, and embracing the sublime chaos of a freed mind, and a lightened spirit. That's what she craves beyond simple death, and what her baptism by fire, blood and riverwater, has been about.

Each trial grinds her down into someone else. Someone new.

Someone closer to who she is meant to be, rather than who she's expected to be.

That's why she's so glad to make the sacrifice for Vi. She's not dying as an act of self-immolation. She's giving her sister - the one who's proven she'll never give up on her - the ultimate gift, and showing Vi that she deserves to live.

She needs Vi to live, so Jinx, the persona, can finally die.

"He (Silco) didn't make Jinx. You did."

She's basically saying, "I love you, I will always be with you, but you are no longer responsible for my actions. Please move forward with your life, and grant me the choice to do the same."

It's two sisters embracing everything they've meant to each other, acknowledging the pain weighing them down on both sides, and welcoming the new so they can each slough off old paradigms and live life as a whole person - or at least take steps to remembering what wholeness feels like.

That's the reason the show's final shots linger on the Hexgate tunnels, Jinx's monkey bomb, and the aircraft.

It's the show's way of reminding us that Jinx has ascended to a different version of her identity - one removed from the past that haunted her. It's Jinx, finally striking out alone, away from the sister whose memory she clung so desperately to, and who was, in turn, horrified by her hand in making Powder a monster (perceived guilt or real, fandom may debate ad nauseum) due to past mistakes and abandonment.

The ending of Arcane isn't tragic. It's deeply hopeful, and serves as a reminder that no matter how damaged you think you are, and no matter how monstrous the world finds you, there are still ways to come back to yourself - or to walk the path toward a new you.

Jinx is symbolized by crows. Jinx is shown with firelights emerging from her mouth. Jinx is depicted holding a torch like Janna ushering in the winds of change.

Thematically, Jinx is change.

And the best way she can embody that change is to write her story, and make it her own.

[quarterlifekitty]

The guys with a girlfriend who honestly.. kind of scares them

In different ways of course, but there’s still the underlying theme of her being rather unsettling

- @murderkittyz

I want you to know that this has been living in my mind. I love writing reader characters that are weird af and quite honestly unsettling

To be honest, writing Nikolai was really hard for this one, and I’m still not totally satisfied by it. I think he’s too willing to match your freak.

cw: some graphic descriptions of violence (not enacted, just threats/movie scenes etc)

Gaz is freaked out by how much you like the dark. You scare the shit out of him all the time because he’ll come home, thinking you’re not home because no lights are on in the house, and you’re so quiet— he is not proud to admit how many times he’s screamed when you suddenly said hi from a spot in the dark. And how whenever you get up in the middle of the night, you don’t turn the lights on. He asks you why, and you just say you don’t need them. Freaky.

There have been a handful of times where you were truly, extremely angry at Soap. And he almost pissed himself every single time because of how scary you get. Not because you scream or shake or slap his chest or anything, but because you don’t do any of it. Outside, you’re calm, you’re smiling. But it’s how you talk to him like he’s a child. “It’s okay. I’m just very, very angry at you right now”. It puts him on fucking edge. It creates this tension like you’re about to do something, that you’re gonna get back at him somehow in some way he’ll never see coming, but you don’t do anything. Absolutely fries his nerves.

Ghost is scared by how easily you tone switch, partially because he’s not really able to do so. The way you can be talking about someone from the base and say “he’s such a fucking prick bastard. I wanna rip off his balls and shove them down his throat far enough that he chokes”. And then the next day, you’ll greet the same guy like he’s an old friend. Extremely polite, pleasant, happy. It reminds Simon that he only sees the real you because you allow him that privilege.

Price is scared by your good memory. He’s used to being the one who remembers, the one who’s completely on top of things, the one who knows everything needed to know about everyone. But he’ll mention a colleague that you met once, for 10 minutes, years ago and you’ll ask “Is he still with Martha? She wanted to adopt a dog with him, a Siberian husky, and he seemed so scared of the commitment”. That’s scary. Makes him feel like he has a blind spot. Makes him wonder what you remember about him that even he doesn’t recall.

König is a difficult man to disgust and to scare. He’s seen a lot of things, and he himself is rather unsettling. But he’s scared and disgusted by some of your taste in movies. Things with long, painful torture scenes. All of the blood, flaying of skin, needles, ripping bones from flesh. It’s not so much that you enjoy these movies, but how you enjoy them. You lean against him, but not because you’re scared. You laugh in a way that you never do outside of watching a gorey scene, of someone crying on the floor with broken limbs. He shudders to imagine what you’d be like if you had his job.

Nikolai is unsettled by some of the fantasies you share with him, and how you convey them. Not things that you could really enact, just fantasies. “The other day I thought about being a mermaid— and you being a pirate that captured me to cut me up and sell my parts. But when you were about to cut me open you saw my cunt and decided to keep me as a fuckdoll instead, and fingered me right there with the butcher knife still on the table”. And you say it pretty nonchalantly. He’s honored that you trust him with these inner thoughts, and usually they turn him on completely, but it does creep him out just a little.

[aboutcustardcreams]

Until next time

Agathario x reader

The scene in the forest where Agatha delivered the baby is living in my head rent free and I just couldn't resist the urge to write an os about it. Rewrite, actually. It's my first Agatha's fic, so I'm pretty excited. Hope you guys like it <3

warning: angst, a touch of fluff

next chapter (time skip)

The baby’s soft cries echoed in the forest, as a reminder that a life has just begun, tender and innocent. Agatha was perched by a tree, only wrapped in a light and crumbled vest. Her cloak dropped somewhere a few feet away. The sweat and the pressure at her lower abdomen finally subsided, making her feel like she could breathe properly again. There was blood between her legs, staining her inner thighs, flooding and then drying out to her knees. Everything kind of hurt, her eyes were heavy, but her senses stayed alert. 

“Move,” the Green Witch muttered in a placid order. 

You looked into her eyes, slowly shaking your head, as you stood in front of Agatha, shielding her and the baby, “No.”

The witch felt a wave of relief wash over her when she heard your simple, yet categorical answer. She was in no condition to fight against Rio on this, despite the fire in her eyes and the weak magic already tingling her digits. 

Rio sighed, “we aren’t doing this. You promised–”

“I know what I did,” you interjected, closing your hands into fists, “But I changed my mind. I am allowed to change my mind,” you pointed out, voice thick with emotion. You couldn’t bring yourself to say goodbye to a child you didn’t even hold in your arms yet. “I-I can’t let you take him,” turning around, your eyes focused on the baby’s tiny head peeking out of the little blanket Agatha wrapped him in. “I mean, he’s innocent. It can’t be his time…”

“My loves–” 

“Just let him live,” Agatha interjected, her voice both exhausted and desperate. She never felt so scared before, “Please, don’t take him from me.” 

When he clasped his tiny hands in her long wavy hair, her lips brushed against his head, “I love you,” she smiled, rocking him ever so gently, “I love you so much.”

Your heart melted at the sight before your eyes. Rio felt a slight indecision tugging at her chest. She never thought the first time she would hold her son would be to carry him in the afterlife. It felt cruel. It was cruel. But he was sick, he could feel his disease, hovering like a shadow around him. 

“I’m not giving up. Not yet,” you insisted. 

“You talk as if I didn’t wish for him to live,” Rio retorted in disbelief. 

“Oh, spare us, Rio!” Agatha snapped. “You’re the Green Witch, it’s not like you’ve got no power at your disposal. And yet you’re choosing the easy way.”

Rio couldn’t believe her ears. “The easy way you say? Are you nuts? He is my son too, Agatha!”

You frowned at their bickering. Last thing you wanted was to indulge in this fight. This moment was supposed to bring joy to your lives. A child was born, your child for fuck’s sake. Why couldn’t you three be happy about it? Why couldn’t you cherish the moment? He was sick, but you could still try to save him. Work together to make it possible. You, Agatha and Rio weren’t common witches after all, and if there was someone able to find a loophole, it would be you. 

“Then start acting more like a mother,” Agatha retorted, voice dropping in a whisper. 

���It’s not my fault I’ve got responsibilities, Agatha. I never asked to be like this,” Rio’s voice wavered a bit, her heart thumping in her chest with painful insistence. 

“My loves, please we shouldn’t–”

The sound of Agatha’s mocking laughter prevented you from finishing off that sentence. “What about the responsibilities towards our son? He should come first.” 

“Our son is sick, and in order for him to live, many will have to die. It will cause absolute chaos.”

“So be it. All I care about is my son.” Her icy blue eyes sparkling dangerously as she said those words with force and a bit of selfishness. 

You considered Rio’s words; a bunch of conflicted emotions passed through you. Rio wouldn’t say those things if she knew there was another way out of this. But maybe if she couldn’t find it, you could, if only you were granted more time to figure it out. 

“If you take him, I’ll hate you forever,” she insisted rather calmly now. 

“Agatha…”

Color drained from your face at those words. You knew she didn’t mean that. She couldn’t. When a muffled sound slipped from Rio’s lips, a mixture between a choked sob and a scoff, you drew closer to her, your hands immediately finding her cheeks. You weren’t supposed to pick sides. You were a family, and it should stay like that. 

“She doesn’t mean it,” you said both softly and firmly, thumbs brushing against her cheekbones. She rolled her eyes and you took a firmer grip on her face, so that she would focus on your eyes, “Rio, listen to me, she doesn’t–”

“I do.” Agatha deadpanned, cutting you off.  

You hissed, “Quiet, Agatha.” 

Rio let out a quiet humorless chuckle, when the other witch grumbled something under her breath. 

“We are just scared, my love. We want this child to live, we need him to, do you understand that?” 

When your voice croaked slightly, her hands tangled in your hair and pulled you closer to her, “I know, baby. I know,” she cooed, getting lost in those wet lashes of yours.

You swallowed thickly, “I don’t want to say goodbye.” 

She leaned in and brushed her lips right under your eye, her magic immediately mingling with yours. Your eyelids fluttered close and you let out a faint mewl. 

“I can only offer time,” she said, once she pulled away, so that she could meet both yours and Agatha’s eyes.

You arched an eyebrow confusedly, “what does it mean?”

“How much time?” Asked Agatha. 

She shrugged, as if she didn’t know or she couldn’t really say. Her behavior only served the purpose of making you more nervous. Crossing your arms over your chest, you knew that you’d have to use this time to master your own powers. To make sure that whenever Rio intended on collecting your son’s soul, you’d be ready to fight. Not her of course, but the process of Death itself. You were a necromancer witch, whose powers were completely opposite to Rio’s. While her job was to keep order between life and death, your powers could easily break that balance if you wanted to. Meaning that you could resurrect life forms.

“You know I’ll still try when the time comes, don’t you?”

Rio looked at you and despite your words, she smiled, “I know, love. Thought I’d hate you if you decided to interfere, but honestly, I hope you win.” 

It was your turn to crack a smile in her direction. “It’s not a competition, Rio. All I want is to keep our child alive.” 

She hummed, without voicing her concerns out loud, not wanting to add more to yours and Agatha’s shoulders, “You two will make a good job.”

You and Agatha exchanged a confused look, “you sound like you’re leaving us behind,” she trailed off. 

When Rio averted her eyes, lips pressed in a thin line, you were sure you felt your heart shatter. 

“No, she’s not-” you looked at Agatha, hoping to have got it all wrong. But when you spotted tears welling up in her eyes, you realized the truth. 

“Rio, please, don’t do this–”

“I must. I can’t be seen around him,” her tone was sad, yet you could still feel the love filling each word. You kept shaking your head in denial. “Might be difficult to believe but there are women above me I respond to.” 

“The Fates have no power if you don’t do your part,” Agatha pointed out, hoping to be right.

Rio smacked her lips in return. “It’s not that simple. Atropos, the eldest of the three, could give me a really hard time if I disobey.” 

You clenched your jaw at her words. The thought of handing your son’s life in the hands of those crones made absolutely no sense to you. They shouldn’t be entitled to take the life of an innocent just like that. You were a necromancer witch, meaning that you could change things. For a long time you buried that part of yourself within you, because of the things you’ve been told all your life. Interfering with the natural order of the things was wrong; your power was an abomination, but at that moment, all those warnings sounded like bullshit. 

Rio sensed your distress, her fingers brushed yours, “I’ll keep him hidden for as long as I can.” 

Then she turned to Agatha and pointed at the baby in the silent, almost timid request to approach him. She still had to see him properly after all. Agatha nodded and moved the child so that he would face her, tucking a bit of the blanket underneath his chin to better expose his tiny face. 

Rio brushed a strand of Agatha’s hair first, “you did amazing, my love,” she praised her, causing a light brush on the witch’s cheeks. She couldn’t quite believe she, you three created such a beautiful baby boy from scratch. 

“Hi” she cooed, now focusing on the newborn. You leaned against the tree, the same tree Agatha was perched by, and looked from above the sweet interaction going on. Rio’s fingertips grazed over his tiny, perfect nose. “I can’t promise you a life devoid of challenges and pain, but I confide in your mothers to always make sure you’re happy and loved,” she lifted her eyes to meet yours and Agatha’s. A watery smile tugged at her lips, “And trust me, you’re so so loved already, little one.” 

You wiped the corners of your eyes and so did Agatha. 

“We should name him Nicholas,” she said after a moment of contemplation.  

Knowing the meaning of the name, you felt like you couldn’t agree more on it, “Nicholas Scratch,” you added, “cause we made him from scratch.” 

Rio turned towards you, while her fingers played with the baby’s tender little hands. “That’s perfect, my love. Isn’t it, Agatha?”

Agatha swallowed thickly, already mourning the loss of Rio, despite her being still there. She nodded, and then she tangled a hand in Rio’s hair, pulling her closer to her face. For a moment she only leaned against her forehead, inhaling her sweet scent of flowers. Then the Green Witch took the initiative and placed her lips on top of hers, savoring with extreme gentleness, the plumpiness of Agatha’s. You ran a hand in Agatha’s hair, fingers stroking her scalp to let her feel your presence too, while your eyes darted on Rio. When Agatha let out a choked sob in Rio’s mouth, overwhelmed by everything that had just happened in such a short time, the other hushed her softly, “it’s going to be okay.”

Neither you nor Agatha were sure about it, but you had no other choice than to believe her. 

“Take care of your moms, Nicky,” she later added, placing one last kiss on his forehead and then on Agatha’s. 

Once she stood up again, she focused her attention on you. In an ideal world, you’d be her enemy, because of the powers you possessed. And yet, against all the odds, you became her lover, one of the most important persons in her life. 

“Don’t be sad…”

You nibbled on your inner cheek so hard you drew blood. With your arms crossed over your chest, you struggled to spill a single word because you didn’t trust your voice at the moment. Your entire body was shaking on the inside. Agatha never saw you look so fragile before. It felt like a stab in her chest to witness her family fall apart like that. 

“You’re asking too much of me,” you kept your eyes down, focusing on the tip of your boots. 

“Nena, look at me,” Rio tried to meet your eyes, but you purposefully kept it down, shaking it stubbornly and hopelessly. She smiled, feigning hurt in her tone as she continued, “You wouldn’t let me go without a proper kiss now, would you?” 

Despite your best efforts, you let out a small watery chuckle at her playful teasing, “I hate that you’re doing this.”

“It’s for Nicky…” She said simply. 

Agatha buried her face in the baby’s naked shoulder, finding comfort in his pure and unique scent. 

“And I am sorry,” when you finally met her eyes, Rio cupped your cheeks, “so sorry you don’t get to be his mother. It’s your right to be.”

But Rio’s lips curled into a reassuring smile, despite her sadness. “Don’t be. I’ll get my turn eventually…  and for now, I’ll be his–”

“Please, don’t say shadow,” you muttered, and that elicited a small chuckle out of the Green Witch. If you turned around you’d see Agatha’s lips stretch into a smile too. 

“Guardian, then.”

You hummed and licked your lips, tasting the saltiness of your own tears in your mouth. 

“Now come here, I waited enough–” 

The witch pulled you closer with ease. Your body crashed into hers but it was okay because she was ready to hold you. 

Agatha could see Rio’s face as she hugged you. She spotted a single tear slip down her eye and her stomach lurched. When you two pulled away, Rio took a few steps back, pulling the green cloak over her head. She lingered a few seconds to memorize the scene before her. You dropped on your knees and landed next to Agatha. Her head immediately lolled on your shoulder, and you turned yours to place your lips in her hair. 

Rio waved softly, then blew a kiss to each of you, “Nos vemos, mis amores.” 

You and Agatha nodded quietly, watching the Green Witch disappear before your eyes. Agatha let out a silent sob when she did; your arms immediately wrapped around her and the baby in a protective embrace. 

“We will be fine, Aggs.” 

When Agatha met your gaze, eyes full of hope and vulnerability, you took a mental vow to protect her and Nicky whatever the cost. 

“Yeah,” she echoed with a smile you immediately reciprocated. She closed her eyes when you leaned in to brush your lips against her still clammy forehead. 

When the baby started crying again, you two pulled away and focused your attention on Nicky. He looked rather pale for your liking, a little warm too. You knew what he needed and so did Agatha. You placed a tender kiss on his cheek, Agatha’s lips curling into a soft smile, while you did. Then you stood, hands on your hips, eyes roaming around your surroundings like a predator looking for its prey. You didn’t want to do this, but you were just a mother trying to keep your son alive. 

When Agatha attempted to get up, you interjected, “stay here for now. Let me do the rest.”

Her expression shifted from confusion to worry, “You shouldn’t be doing this alone.”

“Agatha,” you merely rolled your eyes at that, “You just had our baby, I think it’s not the end of the world if you sit this one out,” your voice laced with a hint of playfulness despite the things you had to do. It’s not that you never killed before, cause you did. Not in cold blood though. You forced yourself into believing that it wouldn’t be much different. Once a wise person told you, a witch must do anything in her power to survive and there’s no shame in that. You were looking at her now, as her attention remained fixed on you. 

“Be careful,” it was supposed to sound like an order, but the softness in her eyes betrayed her. 

You chuckled lightly, “I always am,” you concluded, pulling the cloak up over your head. 

[poisonf0rest]

genuine question because youre one of my favorite writers, you seem to really have a thorough grasp of the characters: what do you see in rafayel that makes him appealing? i try to get past his entitled brattiness because i really want to enjoy all of the guys, but i cant see anything else. please help me understand 🥲

Oh boy, baby, darling, sweetheart, you opened a can of worms. Come do a little bit of character analysis with me~

About Rafayel:

Rafayel is a brat, yes. But that means he wears his heart on his sleeve, outright when he needs your attention or sulking when something is bothering him or faking a dramatic accident to get your attention. There's no silent guessing or fake "I'm fine's," just his overdramatic, raw emotion that's easy to read. He's has anxious attachment stemming from hundreds of years of betrayal and loss.

Rafayel is a romantic, a yearner. And yes, while I also agree his attitude was annoying at first I am very unfortunately into people who get on my nerves, especially when they are flirty and funny as well. I folded during his hospital scene.

Entitled? He is a god. He has been trying and failing to save his entire civilization for over 800 years and still simply can't because he refuses to hurt the one he loves. While all the boys have been through pain there's something about Rafayel's story that really gets me. I think it’s because if I— as mc— knew the sacrifice he was making, I would give myself up. So to have someone selfish enough to place me first is heartbreaking, devoted, and cruel. 

Also there are plenty of scenes where Rafayel is serious, especially if you read between the lines. The brattiness and sass is a playful cover to someone who's been through pain and understands it. Someone who chooses to still see joy and happiness in his life while fully understanding how cruel the world is.

Simply, I'm a sucker for doomed character archetypes. There is no version of Rafayel's and mc's story where they both end happy. Millions of people will die or if mc kills herself Rafayel will live forever as a husk of his former self. Using a sassy, filirty, bratty attitude to cover up such a genuinely depressing story is so juicy to me.

About Me:

I'm a Zayne irl. Work is honestly the most important thing to me outside my family, I'm devoted to my hobbies and leadership positions, and I have a close circle of friends I would do anything for. I'm also fucking hilarious subjective.

I'm the eldest sibling, the guard dog, the de-facto leader for almost everything. I'm the person who had to grow up fast, to parent my immigrant parents at times, who never made space for love, and who is by default independant and comfortable with it.

I prefer to listen-- I love my yapper friends. Don't get me wrong I can talk for hours about anything, but day to day I tend to get exhausted talking after a while so I surround myself with people who can do the easy talking for me.

My irl partner is a mix between Rafayel and Sylus I'd say. He's the one who pulls me out of my work spirals by nagging me until I give in, someone I'm comfortable yapping about my current hyperfixations too, someone who my inner child can come out to. But I also enjoy being a caregiver, that's always been my role and I relish in it, I like being relied upon as much as I appreciate having someone in my life that lets me take a step back. The only part that's Sylus is how his love language is bullying me and his vibe/looks lmao, but usually I am more into raf-stereotypical pretty boys.

So, overall, the appeal of Rafayel to those that choose him:

Rafayel is for the eldest daughters who needs their inner child to be free, who needs a little bit of ridiculousness and impulsiveness in their lives.

Rafayel is for those who never got praised for their effort or strength, for those who success was the only option, who had to be perfect, reliable and serious all the time. He makes it so clear how much simply being with you means to him, constantly complimenting, flirting, and reassuring you just how much he needs you. Showing you how obsessed with you he is.

Rafayel is for those who didn't think love had a place in their lives due to shit family or life circumstances. He proves time and time again that you're the only one he loves. Even though he's lived forever, you were worth the wait and that he would wait again for you, no matter how long it takes. He proves you can be loved, and that it comes easy.

Rafayel is for those who always placed others first. He's more than willing to show you again and again you will always be first in his mind. He needs you more than he does water. Sure, you can take care of him, but he wants to be with you and take care of you, too.

Rafayel is for those who need someone else to drag them out of work/school/spiralling even when they don't want to admit it, bringing in laughter, color, and a little bit of dramatics.

Rafayel is for creators who dedicate themselves to their craft, who are scared of losing this "spark," who want to get better but constantly feel that what they create isn't enough or must be more. 

Rafayel is for hopeless romantics, those that go out of their way to surprise their friends during their birthdays, those who plan platonic dates for those they care about, those who put out so much love into the world and suddenly break when they get that love back.

Rafayel is for those used to having little siblings or those to take care of in our lives. Only while Rafayel relishes in the attention, he's also ready to give it back five-fold.

Rafayel is a switch for switch (brat for brat) lmao. He's for those who like to start on top, teasing and pushing his buttons to get all those cute reactions out of him, just until he breaks. Then he can take control and finish us up. We love vocal men.

Maybe projecting, but Rafayel is the perfect bi-girl's boyfriend. He's a classic pretty boy, unafraid to be in touch with his feminine side, a little dramatic, a little artsy. But he's also super romantic, sensitive, loving, and intense. And gosh, who could say no to those big puppy eyes?

I could probably continue to talk about Rafayel for hours, but ya, hopefully this helps answer why I and others love this man. Just continue on with the main story and read between the lines with his dialogue and I'm sure you'll pick up on it too~

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Meaningful Mistakes Pt. 2 | Azriel x Reader x Cassian

Summary: You have a rough delivery, and Azriel and Cassian can’t handle it.

Word Count: ~ 1.7k

Warnings: pregnancy, panic attack, blood, delivery, water breaking, rough delivery, but baby survives and so does mama

A/N: I love writing for this, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

The pregnancy had been rough, but gone smoothly nonetheless, your birth canal adjusting to the size of the baby’s wings according to Madja’s updates. By now, the entire Inner Circle knew of your situation, having multiple mates, though they’d never heard of it before.

Even Amren hadn’t heard of anything like it, and she was older than anyone in Night Court at this point.

However, you didn’t mind being the first along with Azriel and Cassian to have a polyamorous relationship and mateship. None of you got jealous, and your boys were just happy to be able to see each other without fear of being judged or Rhys butting in to split them up if it caused any problems with the public.

You had been making breakfast when it happened.

Usually, Azriel would make breakfast, mainly because neither of them let you do anything anymore, and Cassian couldn’t cook anything other than the bare necessities for when he was on foot and traveling. After he’d burnt the pan last time trying to make waffles, you’d both banned him from cooking.

Today was different though, because both of them had put on quite the show last night for you. Most nights, you were too tired, sore, or just not feeling good enough for sex, and they took out that frustration on each other. You had giggled quietly while thinking of it as you flipped a pancake, a separate one joining the rising stack on the plate you had to the left of the stove.

Suddenly, you felt a trickling down your leg, and your panties growing damp. With a frown, you thought you’d peed yourself at first, which you had done many times due to your now-small bladder. It clicked only a moment later that something was wrong, that you hadn’t just peed yourself, and that your water had broken.

Cursing under your breath, you turned the stove off, setting the spatula you’d had in hand down as you quietly trudged into the bedroom.

Azriel was strewn atop Cassian, their arms wrapped around each other and wings in a mess. Cassian was snoring away, and Azriel was quietly breathing, his lips barely parted.

Not wanting to wake them, you tiptoed into the room, feet barely padding against the floor as you grabbed the delivery bag that the three of you had made together for when the time had come. Azriel had done extensive research, and Cassian had asked Madja every tiny little detail so they knew exactly what would happen.

A tiny groan slipped from your lips as your stomach tightened in what felt almost like a period cramp, but was a contraction. Azriel sat up too quickly at the sound, and seeing you grab the bag, his mind pieced everything together quickly as he shook Cassian awake and darted out of the bed to your side.

“Is it…?”

“Yeah, there’s pancakes in the kitchen if you want some.”

You offered with a small smile as Azriel started hurriedly pulling on his clothes. Cassian, having been shaken awake by Azriel, sat up with a groan, mumbling per usual.

“Mm…the hell? What’s-“

He rubbed his eyes, sentence abruptly cutting off as he took in the scene before him, then hopping out of bed just like Azriel, pulling some clothes on as well as he was immediately at your side.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt? Is anything-“

“Cassian, calm down, it’s just contractions.”

“Calm down?? You’re about to push out a watermelon-sized child, and you want me to calm down?”

You sighed, shaking your head as you lifted the delivery bag, only for Azriel to gently take it from your hands, and slip it around his arm, throwing it over his shoulder as he picked you up. He carried you bridle-style out of the house as Cassian anxiously followed, buzzing with energy.

The Lord of Bloodshed had handled much worse than this, he’d fought through lines and lines of enemies before, but this was different. He’d seen soldiers die and had to comfort their grieving families, but there was nothing he could do here to help you, other than be there and comfort you. But you weren’t a dying soldier or a grieving family member, you were about to push their child out of you. A child with wings. Out of a mother who wasn’t Illyrian.

Azriel took to the skies, Cassian at his side, and flew you straight to Madja’s humble abode where she kept all of her tonics and secret recipes and whatnot. The place where she’d directed you to come when you needed to give birth. Based on the way Cassian’s eyes glazed over for a second, you were assuming Rhys had figured it out, and would probably soon be on their way.

Azriel carried you into the home as you doubled over in pain from the contractions, the feeling of it being uncomfortable.

Madja was sitting at a desk when Cassian burst her door open, and the old female already knew what was happening based on the sheer look of stress on his face. She stood, walking over to the delivery table in one room, where Azriel had already laid you down. His shadows were thick in the room, swirling around you in an attempt to protect and soothe as you whimpered quietly from the pain.

As soon as she entered, some of the shadows dispersed to give Madja room to work. Whatever she said was almost lost on Azriel, his mind calculating possibilities. The possibilities of a successful birth and delivery, the chance that you might die giving birth to their baby. He began to almost panic about even the possibility of the second one happening.

Cassian must’ve felt that panic through the bond, because he slipped his hand into Azriel’s scarred one, gently squeezing and pulling him closer.

“It’ll all be fine, she knows what she’s doing. Our girl’s gonna be fine, Az.”

He said, trying to cover up the anxiety and tension in his own body and tone, though he knew that Azriel would discover it either way. Madja began speaking to you, changing you from your clothes into a flexible hospital-like gown. She was giving advice and whatnot, it seemed.

The larger contractions began hours later, and Madja called in a midwife to assist her. Feyre, Rhys, Nesta, and Elain arrived soon after that, and since Feyre was the only one who’d given birth to a child before, she was the one comforting you the most when Cassian and Azriel weren’t helping.

The actual delivery was the most rough, though.

The wings had gotten stuck somewhere and were tearing you apart from the inside, according to Madja. Azriel couldn’t handle it, watching the blood, hearing your screams. He snapped, his shadows panicked and swirling agitatedly, and he began yelling at Madja to do something, anything, while stray tears made their way down his face.

Cassian ended up restraining him.

“Hey, take it easy, Madja’s doing her best, let’s just take a breather outside?”

The male had said, holding Azriel’s wrists behind his back as he led him outside. Internally, Cassian was panicking too, completely desperate for anything to help you, his mate, but he couldn’t crack now, not with everyone needing someone solid to depend on. Especially not with how Azriel was.

The shadowsinger was sobbing now, hyperventilating as Cassian led him outside into the crisp night air. The shadows tried to tug Cassian back inside, but he resisted. They would only make things worse inside.

“They’re going to—she isn’t-“

“Breathe, Azriel.”

Cassian pulled him closer, and Azriel ended up sobbing into his shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around him. They couldn’t lose you, not now.

Mor arrived soon after, having been busy at her private estate, she traveled as soon as she could to get to you. You were a close friend of hers, and as soon as she heard Azriel sobbing in the backyard of the home, she knew something wasn’t going right.

The wings were stuck, blood pooling in the bed. Madja's hands were trying to work it out, even as you thrashed and screamed, Rhys, Feyre, and Nesta held you down, Elain watching in horror from a corner.

The midwife Madja had called in was a healer by some miracle, and for any damage caused she was rapidly trying to heal, working as fast as she could to get it done. Eventually, Mor got sick of waiting, and she’d delivered a few babies before, or at least helped out. She wasn’t going to sit here and watch you die.

Walking over to you, she plunged one hand in, and despite your screams, and everyone’s protests, she felt the small lump that was your child and the wings it had. There should’ve been enough room for it, but for some reason, it had gotten stuck. She shifted it back and forth, and by some miracle, the healer gasped.

“It’s unstuck, I can heal it now, just get the child out.”

She said, and Madja nodded as Mor pulled her hand out. In truth, it shouldn’t have worked, but somehow it did anyway. Rhys sighed, running a hand through his hair as the other head your arms down above your head, keeping you carefully restrained.

The rest was a lot of pushing, and you didn’t remember the half of it, being so delirious from the pain medicine Madja eventually distributed to you, but you remembered crying, and a wailing child, and when Azriel and Cassian came back in, showering you with affection and kisses and every little sweet thing they could come up with. They drilled Madja on if you’d be okay, and she was keeping you overnight in her home for the night.

Overnight, they both sat there, both in chairs next to each other as they stared at the little bundle of cloth, fuzzy wings covered in peach fuzz, the dark midnight hair she had, and the little hands holding onto you. Their baby. Their girl.

“We’ve got two princesses now.”

Cassian said with a tired smile, and Azriel wrapped his hand around yours while you slept, the other hand already in Cassian’s grasp.

“No, we’ve got a queen and a princess now.”

Azriel replied with a tired smile of his own, leaning over against Cassian, and Cassian leaned back into him.

Tags:

@mybestfriendmademe

[vyoongi]

About the tragedy of Caracalla.

This is only an opinion about my favorite character in the movie, based only on the events we see. (Spoilers ahead)

I remember when I saw this scene, I found it so tender and later I understood how sad it is.

This episode shows an unexpected and human side of Caracalla. Hiding under the table, in such a chaotic moment, seems almost a reflection of a child seeking refuge, completely overwhelmed, as if he were having a childhood regression. I get the impression that this act not only reveals his emotional fragility, but also speaks of how Geta's humiliation, by throwing the wine at his face and the insult to his beloved monkey, touched a deeper wound, perhaps related to his self-esteem or to the problems of their sibling relationship.

Then we have Macrinus. By intervening, not only calms the moment, but positions himself as someone who can influence Caracalla. That relationship of temporary dependence on Macrinus seems to me a reflection of how Caracalla needed control figures in his life. There is a contrast in that moment: an emperor under a table, estranged from his people, but also from the brother who once protected him from adversity.

Macrinus’ manipulation strikes me as the final blow to a mind already fractured by syphilis, lead poisoning, and years of family tensions. Caracalla was clearly deeply unbalanced, and I find it especially significant that Geta, who used to manage his mental state, was no longer there to act as an emotional buffer. Geta's death not only eliminates his political rival, but also the one who, on some level, still represented a protective figure for him.

In this context, the moment when Caracalla is stabbing Geta and, according to the original script, it seems that tears are welling up in his eyes is crucial to me. I think that during those seconds, there was a moment of clarity in his mind. Maybe, in the midst of the frenzy, he really heard his brother's words telling him that he loved him and had always protected him, even from their own father. This detail leads me to think that Caracalla, although manipulated and unbalanced, wasn't completely insensitive to what Geta meant to him. In that instant, he was not only eliminating a political rival and a traitor, but he was also destroying the deepest and most authentic bond he had ever had in his life.

The scene later (again, in the original screenplay), where Caracalla asks Macrinus about his brother as if he had forgotten his fraticide, seems devastating to me. It speaks of a complete disconnect with reality, possibly fueled by guilt and denial. When he says that “he would be so happy for me” I see a reflection of how, deep down, he longed for a different relationship with Geta, one in which they could support each other. But in the end, it’s all tinged with irony and tragedy.

This leaves me thinking about how family dynamics and the pressures of power can destroy even the deepest bonds. For me, Geta was the only one who understood Caracalla and managed his inner demons. His death wasnt only the result of political manipulation, but the ultimate collapse of a bond of love that had, at one point, been authentic. The tragedy of Caracalla is that, by eliminating Geta, he also eliminated the last connection to a version of himself that was not completely consumed by frustration, illness and dementia.

[sofiahchan]

How would Deepspace boys act when their wife (MC) is in labour? ( ͡° ʖ̯ ͡°)

— 𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

Rafayel was letting you hold his hand tight as he was sweating, he simply doesn't know what to do. He is nervous, offering you anything you want, even if it's a small piece of napkin or water. He would always give you a lot of praise while you gave birth. How come your journey together ends here, yet you have a new start? He feels so happy and so nervous right now in this moment that he will be a dad.

Rafayel doesn't know much about childbirth, just the basics. It's hard for him to see you in so much pain, and he wishes he could help and take all your pain away. He wants to give you strong support and he whisper compliments to you.

Looking at you, he could notice how you’re panicking inside. He tried his best to comfort you, making sure you were comfortable and knowing how much he’s proud of you. He’s grateful to have you as his wife and now the mother of his child. When the sound of a baby crying can be heard, Rafayel can feel his eyes getting teary as he stares at his newborn baby. He can't stop praising how strong you are, he is fully overjoyed. He lets you hold the baby in your arms. Performing the skin-to-skin contact as he looks down on such a memorable sight. I was thinking how adorable it is that now he has a baby that is a mixture of you and him together in your arms. evidence of how you both love each other and are willing to raise a child together. Finally, he gives you a comforting kiss on your forehead while keeping an eye out for you and his new little sunshine.

— 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 

Zayne knows what you need most during pregnancy. Heating pads, pillows, even your favorite food? You named it. He got everything prepared for you, ensuring that your pregnancy would go smoothly as he tried his best to help you out. Even if he’s busy, he always answers your texts and calls quickly, making permission letters to the higher-ups so he can take care of you without neglecting his work too. In your final moments, he would still ensure that you have all the stuff that’s needed. He offers you a glass of water with a straw and even a handkerchief to wipe your sweat. Giving you a gentle squeeze as he holds onto your hand.

In his free time, he tries to learn more about your pregnancy, including which month you will be able to identify its gender, in which month you will need more supplies, and about the last trimester of your pregnancy. He convinced himself that everything would go well, so he had to be ready to deal with whatever challenges might appear. This way, he would always reassure you that everything would go well for the baby and yourself.

Once he sees the baby inside the hospital bassinet, a warm smile appears on his face. He was pleased to see the blessings that are now given to both of you. A warm hand suddenly lingers on your head, and you can feel how he is caressing your hair. He gave you a soft kiss on your forehead as he looked down at you. Looking down at you and the baby inside the hospital bassinet next to her hospital bed, “How lucky I am to be blessed with such a strong wife,” he whispers as he holds onto one of your hands.

— 𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

Xavier’s gentle nature shines through as he conceals his inner nervousness with a tender smile reflecting in his eyes. Not wanting his emotions to overshadow the moment, he soothingly murmurs words of encouragement not only to you but to the little life growing within your womb. With a caring touch, he delicately sweeps strands of your hair behind your ears, a gesture filled with affection and tenderness. Embracing you in a warm hug, he holds you close, his embrace a source of comfort and security as he endeavors to create an atmosphere of relaxation and ease for you.

He is struggling to avert his gaze from the unfolding scene, fully aware that the sight of blood could easily cause him to lose consciousness. Imagining a different scenario where you were not experiencing labor pains, this whole situation might have a hint of humor to it.

Seeing the tiny baby on his arms, Xavier held his tears as his fingers closed up to the baby's face, watching him pick it up. "He's so cute and lovely; you did a great job." You see Xavier smiling while hearing his praises for you and hoping the baby looks more like you. After going through all that, Xavier tries his best to cook for both you and the baby for the first time. He managed to make something edible and started to spoil you with his home-made food.

[prehistoricopossum]

Deadpool and Wolverine Spoilers!!!

First things first, I absolutely loved Deadpool and Wolverine. Finally seeing these two characters done in a way that you can tell they all loved and had wanted for so long was so amazing to see.

But let me tell you…. I about had an aneurysm when fucking ELEKTRA showed up.

This woman right here, was my childhood. She was the first female hero I got to see on the big screen fighting side by side with the heroes my dad watched. Little me was so excited to see that a girl could also be a hero. A girl could be badass. A girl could be just like those heroes my dad loved.

And so my obsession with Elektra began. I watched Daredevil over and over as a kid, then forced my dad to take me to see Elektra when it came out. He even brought me practice sais. As I’ve grown, I have always had a spot in my heart for Elektra, but I never have rewatched Daredevil or Elektra. I want to keep the rose colored glasses of my childhood on them. I want to keep that childlike amazement and love.

As soon as Jennifer Garner stepped into the scene as the Elektra I grew up with, I gasped and immediately teared up. I never thought I would see her again, in a completely new story, as an adult. My inner child was screaming as I sat in the theater barely able to contain my excitement. I know she isn’t who a lot of people are excited for. There was Wesley Snipes bas as Blade, Chris Evans back as Jonny Storm, Channing Tatum finally getting his Gambit, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Elektra. It’s been over 20 years, but I still have my practice sais. I still have that love for her. And I am so happy Deadpool brought her back in such a respectful way and gave her some closure.

I wish I could show my appreciation to everyone involved in Deadpool and Wolverine for not only giving us a phenomenal movie, but also for giving me a piece of my childhood.

[cz19y]

MERCHES !? [HCs]

Multiple × Bllk Player!GN!Reader

THEME: You start getting famous in the NEL. You have merches now! How'd they react? Would they buy a keychain? A plushy? Your jersey??

∆ Reader is part of Blue Lock, fluff, SFW, some of them will be extremely short, they have a crush on you, OOC[?], grammar & spelling errors.

[!] reference for plushie at the bottom.

NOTE: This has been sitting on my drafts for half a year now. Finally decided to finish.

∆ FT: Isagi Yoichi, Rin & Sae Itoshi, Michael Kaiser, Alexis Ness, Shidou Ryusei, Niko Ikki.

[ Starting … ]

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ISAGI YOICHI

"Cool/Cute!" First thing he thought about when he saw the plushy.

Def buying the plushy. He also looked into the jersey but dropped the idea cuz he's just shy like that.

Silly keychain hanging from his wallet.

Gets all awkward when someone teases him(Reo + CHIGIRI).

“You got [L/n]’s merches? Can I tell them??!” Bachira was so excited to tell you.

“No.”

Anyways,

Gets all awkward next time talking to you but pretends it's ok. (It's not ok)

Loves the fact that you're having somewhat of the attention you deserve for being the great player you are.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ RIN ITOSHI

You really think he's buying it? What a joke.

He is.

Just because you annoyed him to do so, of course.

Just the keychain tho. The idea of a jersey would "decrease" his ego and he thinks that the plushie is a waste of space.

Jokes, he bought the plushie.

Almost died on spot when you mentioned that you saw the plushie on his bed.

BUT he’ll kill you if you mention it to others.

Has the keychain on his keys.

When waiting for a bus or something, he fidgets with it.

Likes to start a staring contest with the plushie.

AGHhH ok but he's so cute.

Since you're “important or whatever”(his words, not mine), I'm imagining him taking good care of the plushie.

Ok but he def drowled on that plushie.

Blushes if you ever buy his merches. Like in the Sae scene after the U20; eyes shining and all.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ SAE ITOSHI

Debated if it was worth it or not.

He means, how lukewarm..

But those keychains are adorable, no?

Yeah, why not.

Keychain hanging out from his phone.

Fidgets with it too.

Ignores his teammates if they ever mention it and glares at them if they push it.

Will not tolerate Shidou.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ MICHAEL KAISER

Bought the plushie to annoy you. That's one of the main reasons why he bought it.

The other reason is because he actually wanted one.

Has it sitting near the mirror.

Poses and talk to that thing like it's actually someone.

Unboxing time was def something. Smug smile with brows acherd, inspecting the mini version and humming in approval.

Ness doesn't know how to feel about this.

NOT buying the jersey. You're a good player too, his pride is gigantic and would NEVER betray himself.

He may be pinning on ya but that's different.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ALEXIS NESS

Bro's smile got even happier when he got the plushie[HE'S SUCH A CUTIE STOP].

Has a jersey somewhere in his closet.

Shy about it.

Keeps everything clean and neat.

Finds it so cute, he absolutely loves the plushie.

Keychain keychain keychain-

Inner child coming alive once more.

Unboxing with ultimate happiness.

Loves you and all but would prefer if you don't know about it.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ SHIDOU RYUSEI

The moment he heard about it, you can bet he was already ordering it.

Keychain, plushy, or jersey?... huhh.. Nah, he's buying it all.

But his favorite is the jersey.

Would start wearing it as a joke, but then it becomes part of his weekly clothing.

Shidou ordered a GG size plushy and named it "[Lame Nickname]".

Ordered a small size plushy too, and named it "[Lame Nickname Jr. The II]".

Will talk to it like it's an actual conversation when bored or when he wants to get something out of his mind and there's no one around for him to pester.

Not shy about it.

Brags, even.

Makes your and his plushie kiss in front of the whole team hahaha-

Sometimes you're worried about the plushie’s safety.

Bros 100% pleading forcing you to buy his merches so you two can match.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ NIKO IKKI

Got too embarrassed when buying.

I can picture him with his neutral ass face unboxing the plushy but inside; he's jumping and giggling while he stares at the eyes of the small goofy mini version of you.

Gets quiet the next time he sees you.

Gets embarrassed when spots the plushie looking directly at him.

*Cutely goes and move its head to another direction* /j

He’s an anime fan; probably and will make a secret collection of those merches.

Plushie sitting at the top spot of his shelf among the mangas or anime merches he has.

Will delete himself if you ever mention it.

If ever hanging out at his place, expect having to wait for some minutes outside his room because he's trying to find a good spot to hide it.

Bro has pride to keep, give him some time.

Lmao. Feels bad whenever the plushie falls off his bed and pets it to make up for it(just like me fr).

[!] Plushie Ref

They're so cute.

[mirai-e-jump]

Animage October 2024 Issue Kamen Rider Gavv ft. Chinen Hidekazu & Sugihara Teruaki (translations below)

Publication: September 10, 2024

The Strange Sweets Kamen Rider

The 6th Reiwa Kamen Rider is the first ever to use a sweets motif! The cast and staff talk about the behind the scenes of the birth of the new hero who fascinates us with a gap between poppin visuals and its heavy filling!!

Having passed out due to hunger, Shouma, who comes from another world, was saved by a human boy named Hiroi Hajime. Shouma was in a difficult situation when he confronts the Granute, a monster who wants to kill Hajime, but when he "sets & eats" the familiar like creatures called Gochizo in the mouth on his stomach, he transforms into Kamen Rider Gavv and crushes the Granute. This was the beginning of Shouma's battle to protect humans.

The latest entry in the Kamen Rider series, "Kamen Rider Gavv" only just started in September. Despite the poppin imagery and visuals of sweets as its motif, this is a hard and serious drama that depicts the lonely battle of a young man named Shouma, who hides a grand past and mystery behind him.

This production features Takebe Naomi-san as the Producer, Sugihara-san as the pilot Director who determines the direction of the work, Komura Junko-san as Screenwriter, and Fujita Satoshi-san as Action Director, all of whom have worked on the Kamen Rider and Super Sentai series. In particular, Sugihara-san and Komura-san are the pair that gained attention for their work in "Kaitou Sentai Lupinranger VS Keisatsu Sentai Patranger" and the fans are expressing their expectations.

The story of a fierce battle between the sweets Kamen Rider and the Granute monsters has only just begun, so don't miss a moment of the birth of a new Kamen Rider legend! _

Chinen Hidekazu (Shouma)

The first transformation born from an extreme situation

-Supported by dependable friends and the Director-

"Please tell us your impression of the Kamen Rider series."

Chinen: For me, I've admired Kamen Riders since I was a child, and I love them so much that they're the first thing that comes to mind when people ask, "Who's your hero?" I've lived my whole life dreaming of becoming a Kamen Rider, so I was really happy when I was chosen to be Shouma.

"Are there any works that you find particularly memorable?"

Chinen: It's hard to pick a single work from my generation since I'm so attached to all of them, but……I think "Kamen Rider OOO" might be the one I was particularly enthusiastic about when watching. The dialogue between Hino Eiji and Ankh was interesting, and even as a child the ending made me think, so including its theme song, it's my favorite work. Lately however, I've been super into "Kamen Rider Den-O" (laughs). I'm watching it from the perspective of learning why it became so popular, but I also like Den-O because of Satoh Takeru's (who plays Nogami Ryotaro) amazing performance in which he plays multiple different personalities.

"What kind of person do you feel Shouma is?"

Chinen: I read the script so much that it felt like I was watching myself, as I thought that Shouma was so similar to me. We're very similar in the way that we're abit out of the loop, but also curious and get into the things that interest us. I was glued to the TV when I was a child, and I'd become so engrossed when watching it, that I couldn't even listen to what my mother was saying. However, I feel like I'm far removed from him in terms of his guts and inner strength, his desire to save people even at the risk of his own life, and his ability to fight the enemy. Playing the role of Shouma gives me energy and makes me aspire to be like him.

"We think another feature of this production is that right now, Shouma doesn't have a fixed place to stay, and that he comes into contact with a variety of people wherever he goes."

Chinen: I think alot of people are curious to see what happens next, as so far in Gavv, the story continues to be dominated by Shouma's easygoingness and the fact that we don't know what he's thinking. He seems to have a connection with Sachika-san, who he met in episode 2, so what happens to them in the future is a big point to watch out for!

"Please tell us your impressions of Sachika and the person who plays her, Miyabe Nozomi-san."

Chinen: Miyabe-san is a very refined person, so when we first met at script reading, I was shocked and said, "This person's gonna be a gyaru?!" (laughs). One of the things I like about Miyabe-san is that her mannerisms show the quality of her upbringing, but the more we talked, she really started to look like a gyaru, and I felt that performing together with her was amazing. Sachika-san leaves a strong impression of being a gyaru, but on the inside, she's a stable girl who's able to understand the feelings of others. Seeing her say with a refreshing smile, "I think it's good for everyone to be happy," Shouma respects her and thinks, "She's such a wonderful person" and "I want to be like her," almost like she's the embodiment of peace. When I read the script, I always feel supported and say, "Sachika-san, thank you."

"Shouma's brother sister like relationship with her is also very interesting."

Chinen: Director Sugihara Teruaki said to me, "It's like a dog and his owner" (laughs). Still, I think that Sachika-san's all encompassing kindness, and Shouma's simple mindedness are a great combination, and we're also playing the roles with confidence.

"He's yet to interact with Shouma, but we think the role Hanto plays will also be another highlight to look forward to."

Chinen: In some ways, Hanto is also easygoing, but he's the compassionate, hot blooded type, and he too lives by carrying something on his back. I hope you'll look forward to seeing how Shouma and Hanto, who are completely different types of people, interact with each other and what they'll think of each other in their first meeting. Hino Yusuke-kun, who plays Hanto, is the mood maker who makes the set feel relaxed, which is a gap between him and Hanto, but I feel that we're similar in our passion for the production and performance, and the way we put our all into something. To me, Hino-kun is a rival but also like a reliable big brother, and we often consult with each other and visit each other's houses (laughs).

"What were your impressions of Director Sugihara, who also directed the first two episodes as the pilot Director?"

Chinen: As I had no experience in acting, Director Sugihara is a respected teacher who taught me how to perform from the ground up, including how to read the script, and he's like a father figure from Tokyo. He understands each actor's personality and gives them advice accordingly, and he's an amazing person who draws out our potential, so every time I'm on set, I feel happy to film under Director Sugihara. He's a Director I really love.

"Before filming, it seems that you and the Director practiced vocalization together."

Chinen: Yes, even before I could act, my voice wouldn't come out (laughs). I'm really grateful that he took time out of his busy schedule to watch me one on one, and it was an important turning point that led to something changing in me. I want to grow so that people will feel that I'll have changed over the coming year, and one of my goals is to give an inspiring performance that'll be recognized by Director Sugihara with, "You gave it your all."

-Aiming to be as cool as Nawata-san-

"Kamen Rider Gavv, who Shouma transforms into, has a motif based on gummies and other sweets."

Chinen: When I saw the illustration depicted in the proposal, I thought it was incredibly simple, however, my opinion changed when I saw it in person. The armor on the chest and shoulders have a gradient so that it shines beautifully when light hits it, and there's a playful gimmick where a squishy dent will form when it's pressed, so a bunch of detail has been carefully put into it. I'm now so attached to it, that I can't think of anyone else but Gavv. Personally, what I want you to pay attention to the most are the feet. The feet are actually clawed, and this slightly animal like aspect is an important element of the show, so I'd be happy if you make sure to pay attention to the feet as well.

"What's your impression of Nawata Yuya-san, Gavv's Suit Actor?"

Chinen: Nawata-san is an actor who I shape Shouma together with, and he's an indispensable person to me, as I'm able to talk to him about problems that I can't talk about with the other cast members or the Director. He also taught me about acting, like how to create the mood and how to read the script. I'm grateful to Nawata-san's action, as I think Gavv's appeal has tripled, and I feel like the show itself has also become more brilliant.

"Does that also get you enthusiastic about the post transformation dub recording?"

Chinen: That's right. The recording process is more difficult than normal acting because you have to use only your voice to express your emotions and fight scenes in accordance with the footage. In episodes 1 and 2, I had to rerecord so many times that I lost the strength in my voice, and it took twice as long as the planned time (bitter smile). As well as the performances of my seniors in the Kamen Rider series, I also studied the game "Street Fighter" based on the advice of Director Sugihara, and now I feel like I'm getting by. I'll work more diligently to make Nawata-san's performance 120% more appealing with my voice performance, and to become a Shouma who's just as cool after his transformation into Gavv.

"One of the real thrills of the Kamen Rider series are the transformation scenes, but how did you create the pose?"

Chinen: The transformation pose was decided through a discussion between myself, Action Director Fujita Satoshi, Director Sugihara, and Nawata-san. It's a movement that involves rotating your arm, but the final version, which we created after discussing the angles and timing with everyone to make sure it looked cool and appealing, is the transformation pose used in episode 2. Depending on the story, he could transform quickly, so I hope people watch the way he changes based on the situation.

"In the episodes up to this point, the action leading up to the first transformation in the first episode is a scene that can't be ignored when talking about Shouma. There was some action involving wires, and we were also impressed by his performance as he was gradually being cornered by the Granute."

Chinen: That scene was prepared weeks before the shoot, as Director Sugihara and Action Director Fujita came up with a really cool direction. The scene where Shouma is beaten was especially important to give depth to the reason for his transformation, as it took two days to film. In the end, it was in the most extreme situation I had ever experienced in my life, my performance came out unconsciously, and I was complemented with, "Your facial expressions were very good." I could've never done it on my own, the scene was made possible by the advice of Director Sugihara and Nawata-san, who worked beside me, and by all the staff members who created an environment that allowed me to concentrate on my performance.

"It makes us want to go back and pay attention to the expressions on your face. Finally, please tell us your goals throughout filming of Kamen Rider Gavv."

Chinen: I'd like to learn alot about action from Action Director Fujita, Nawata-san and everyone else on the Action Team, and I'd like to improve my acting skills. I've never been in an environment where I could spend an entire year with people who are so good at captivating others, and I don't think it'll ever happen again in the future. I hope to make full use of this experience so that in the next year, I can be an actor who can do it all, from acting to action and recording, so I'll do my best to do what's in front me!

Director Sugihara Teruaki

The vibrant world Shouma comes across

-A dark story with colorful visuals-

"When did you first hear that you'd be the pilot Director?"

Sugihara: I'm pretty sure it was around last Fall, when I was working on the drama, "Tokyo MPD: From Zero to Hero," I received a phone call from Producer Takebe Naomi-san who said, "I'd like to meet and talk with you at once." I heard from a separate matter that Takebe-san would be in charge of the next Kamen Rider, and at the time, I thought I was going to be the second Director, but when I met her, she said, "You're the pilot Director." (laughs).

"At the stage when Director Sugihara joined, how much of the content in the show was decided on?"

Sugihara: Aside from the sweets and monsters motif, we'd yet to decide on the content of the story and the personalities and relationships of the characters. In the beginning, we were a small group consisting of the Producer team's Takebe-san and Takishima Minami-san, Screenwriter Komura Junko-san, and myself. Our three parties worked out the content by sharing ideas from our respective perspectives.

"What specific ideas did Director Sugihara have in mind? Personally, we felt that the visuals of the characters, including their costumes, incorporated the Director's ideas."

Sugihara: You can assume that I'm basically in charge of visual aspects like the impression and fashion. For Shouma's fashion in particular, during the rather early stages, I'd draw an illustration and say, "How about something like this?," and I'd have them look at it while I created his character.

"Not just Shouma's clothes, but also the interior of Hapipare is rich in color, so much so that it's unusual for the Kamen Rider series."

Sugihara: I told artist Fukuzawa Katsuhiro that I wanted to make the visuals as bright and pop as much as possible. Kamen Rider Gavv itself isn't meant to be a continuation of the "ism" seen in the first generation of Kamen Rider, but it includes themes like family conflict and Shouma's sad separation from his mother, so the content is heavy. Because of this, we made the impression of the colors vivid, and were careful to not make them too dark. Moreover, being in the human world for the first time, Shouma's a kid who's impressed by everything he sees, so I was conscious of the world captured from Shouma's point of view and to use rather flashy colors. Conversely, the Granute World and Stomach Family use muted colors, or to just say it outright, they have dirty colors.

"What do you value in your expression of Shouma, the main character?"

Sugihara: I wanted to depict Shouma as a pure kid, someone who suddenly comes to the human world and finds everything he sees as fresh. On the inside, he's not much different from Hajime, who he first meets in the human world, in fact, he's much more of a child than that kid. So he ponders over what he's been told, hurt by the casual mention of "monster" and afraid of hurting others, he's unable to be together with someone else, so he leaves Hajime and Sachika and goes elsewhere. However, I didn't want to make it too dark, so it was hard to depict (laughs). While he carries a dark side, I want him to be a kid who's always smiling when he's with someone, even if he has to force himself to smile.

"This Shouma is beautifully embodied by Chinen Hidekazu-san."

Sugihara: The best thing about Chinen-kun is that he looks great on camera. That's the kind of talent an actor has. Also, the expressions on his face when he eats are really good. Even though he's eating food he usually sees all the time, he eats it like it's a delicacy, looking as if he's eating something he's never seen before and is impressed. In that sense, I think he was the right choice to play Shouma. Still, since this is roughly his first performance, he had to start from a place where he couldn't express his emotions properly, and to begin with, he couldn't even vocalize. I had Chinen-kun stand on one end of Toei's rooftop, and I stood on the opposite end and had him deliver his lines. I gave him relentless acting instruction from the very beginning (laughs). Filming started earlier than usual, so we've already shot several episodes, and I feel that he can now stand proudly in front of the camera as Shouma. With each episode his performance and facial expressions are getting better and better. I have high expectations for his growth over the next year.

-Dedicated action that make the most of the motif-

"We felt that the vibes of Gavv's everyday scenes were different from that of previous Kamen Rider series, but was there anything you were conscious of in your direction?"

Sugihara: In my mind, I had a bright, pop like feeling, but during filming, Chinen-kun……it was important to me how to capture Shouma and the human world from his point of view. I may have only been thinking, "How can I get a good shot of him?"

"In that sense, it's interesting to think that the entire production is being pulled along by Shouma and Chinen-san."

Sugihara: That's right. This is especially true for the first episode, as the story unfolds from Shouma's point of view, so I was conscious of the fact that I wanted to bring the viewers perspective as close as possible to Shouma's.

"Despite the battle scenes also having a fancy sweets motif, from the very first episode, we were taken back by the intense physical battle depicted between Gavv and the Granute."

Sugihara: I'm pretty sure it was Action Director Fujita Satoshi who put out the idea of a serious fistfight at a container warehouse, and with sword fighting in a narrow space. We specified the colors and placement of the containers, and asked the people on location to arrange them accordingly. From there, Fujita and I talked in detail about the composition of the action, and we put it together by discussing the angles while adding in our own ideas as we filmed on site.

"We heard that you and Fujita-san worked closely together to create this."

Sugihara: I also like action quite abit, so I tell Fujita various things like, "Do this sort of thing." Naturally, Fujita has alot of things he wants to do as well, so the two of us are working together to come up with ideas for action sequences and angles.

"Including Gavv's own actions, the way he fights while "eating" the Gochizo is unique."

Sugihara: It was decided in advance that the transformation items Gochizo would appear alot like that of "Pikmin" and "Minions," so I thought it'd be better to use alot of them. Because of that, when Gavv takes damage, his armor breaks and he'll eat the Gochizo one after another……we're calling it "follow up sweets," and I think it'd be interesting to keep changing sweets and repair them as he fights.

"The standard Poppingummy Form has flexible armor, while Zakuzakuchips Form's sword weapon can easily break depending on how it's used, and the use of sweets as a motif was also visually enjoyable."

Sugihara: Inspiration for the action comes from discussions that are almost like casual conversations. I thought about how things like thin baked snacks such as potato chips might be weak to side attacks (laughs). Also, unlike other Kamen Riders, we don't use bullet impacts on Gavv when we depict him being hit (mechanism that detonates gunpowder that's attached to the performer). In his setup, the armor is derived from sweets generated by his own body, so we tried to create the effect of small bead like things flying around him. During filming, we've been throwing beads into the air from the side of the camera. In that sense, it may have a new visual feel.

"What scenes from episodes 1 and 2 were particularly powerful?"

Sugihara: In terms of taking the most time, I'd say it was before the transformation in the first episode. When I was thinking about Shouma's human image, Takebe-san said, "I don't want him to be a hero who fights just because he has powers." You don't fight just because you have the power to become a Kamen Rider, there's a will to fight, and that's where the power comes in. I wanted to create an image of a hero who's able to transform into Gavv because it's Shouma. Since the time of the script meeting, we had talked about how we wanted to portray a different kind of strength from that of the everyday Shouma, who keeps going despite being beaten up by someone he can't even stand up to. On set, Chinen-kun and I worked together to find out why Shouma was feeling that way, and we worked on his facial expressions and gestures one by one, and I was quite persistent throughout filming. We were supposed to film the transformation scene in one day, but we took too long and didn't get to the transformation, so I had to apologize to the staff (laughs).

"Finally, please tell us your enthusiasm for the future."

Sugihara: Honestly, I have no idea how Kamen Rider Gavv will conclude a year from now, but I want to make a show that'll make people who watched it think, "Gavv was interesting." For this reason, I'd also like to delve deeper into Shouma and Hanto, and Sachika and the others characters, and to make each of them appealing. I'm sure that Komura-san will come up with some great developments (laughs), and for my part, I hope that I can take advantage of that, and as the pilot Director for the first time in a long time, to create images that people watching in their living rooms have never seen before.

[petr1kov]

until simon's episode on fionna and cake, i don't think i had fully realized just how much simon lacked proper agency and focus on quite literally all previous protrayals of him. he was always presented from someone else's point of view, be it finn and jake's shocked realization of what happened to him for him to become ice king, marceline's pain in seeing her dearest father figure slowly deteriorate over the years, or even betty's single-minded determination of getting simon back to who he was - every instance of this recurring plot was about him, but never really came from him.

we only got to see brief glimpses of his real feelings about his situation throughout the years, like his video recordings from holly jolly secrets, simon's 'i remember you' letter to marceline, or his brief talk with death on the episode betty, where he makes the decision to keep living as ice king specifically for her sake, since he clearly expressed he preferred death over resuming his life as ice king.

this shift in perspective felt especially notable regarding how his relationship with both young and adult marceline was framed. on the surface, it's not very different from what we've seen before, but thus far, we've always seen it from marceline's point of view, from a child looking at her parent and feeling like she's unable to understand or help him. now, the scenes we got were distinctly from a parental perspective, of someone who found purpose and fulfillment in his role as the caretaker of this kid in the past but always knew she would eventually outgrow him, and of someone who has always tried to shield little marcy from the worst of his inner struggles so as to not burden her and continues to do so even now, afraid to ruin her happiness or upset her even more than he already did in the past, and not realizing how he's alienating her from the real him even now

[cxlamarisalxmi]

Being Miguel’s legitimate daughter that he left behind and hosting Venom [FEM]

[Platonic Drabble]

c/w: cringe writing, angst

—

[Unedited]

“How dare he?”

You ignored the symbiote raging in your head as you watched your father Miguel finish the battle with the Green Goblin variant. Binding him with glowing red organic webs and aligning him up and over his shoulder.

“How dare he return here?!”

“Venom,” you trailed exasperated. Obviously you weren’t happy at all to Miguel either but he hadn’t even seen you yet so what does it matter? Originally you and Venom had fully intended to take down Goblin and inform Peter B. Parker there was a variant in your dimension. (Don’t ask how you know him).

But then Miguel showed up instead, and honestly you should’ve expected that he would because he was the one who led the spider society. And he was among the first to know of any anomalies or unusual readings in any dimension.

And only Jessica and Lyla were a witness to the internal conflict inside him at the prospect of going to his daughter’s dimension. The daughter he abandoned in favor of a different one, a different daughter, a different universe… a different life.

He was absolutely certain that you hated him and you did, you held such bitterly angry and maliciously hateful feelings for him for such a long time. When you were young all you felt was confusion for his disappearance, but as you grew older and as time passed those feelings turned from rage at his betrayal… to utter heartbreak and despair at his departure.

For the longest time you’d believed that you’d done something wrong, because what had tog done that was so bad? What had you done that was so wrong? You didn’t mean to.. whatever it was you didn’t mean to.

Eventually you had come to learn that this was not a fault of yours, but of Miguel’s. You didn’t do a damn thing wrong, and you didn’t deserve this. Nobody did.

So you grew in the suffocatingly isolating darkness that was hate and grief. And as time passed you built walls thick and tall surrounding yourself, barbed defenses to protect your broken and vulnerable pieces. Behind those steeled doors you also tucked away the last part of your inner child, to keep her safe and protected.. from ever feeling this abandonment again.

When you were fourteen you’d found Venom, and at the time you had been living on the streets for close to two years. At fourteen is when you had very nearly quit on life, being alive was pain.. constant hurt that was very close to swallowing you whole.

Venom had stopped you, not because they had talked you out of it but more so because you were intrigued by the way they had glided across the ground. Even more so interested by the way the deep onyx goop slid up your hand before sinking into your body.

And you’ve been together ever since, the constant babble of the alien grated your nerves slightly but other than that you’d grown to love having them attached to you. And you wouldn’t change it for anything—

“[Y/Name]?”

You froze, previously having turned away from the scene of Miguel opening a glowing golden portal on the street below your perch to make a swift exit. But his voice had stopped you, and you’re not sure why you had even bothered to halt in your tracks.

“Wonderful,” you spat with toxin, “you remember my name.”

Miguel shouldn’t have been taken aback by your response, and he shouldn’t have been thrown off by your bite. He didn’t deserve to feel confused as to why you had responded to him so aggressively— because he knew why you had.

“Of course I do, I gave it to you.”

“Right,” you replied boredly before you were moving forward intent to leave the conversation there.

“[Y/Name]!” He called, and again you shouldn’t have given him even a second of your time but your broken and guarded heart longing for answers seemed to work your feet for you.

“[Y/Name], keep moving. Or I will. He does not deserve your time. He does not deserve you.”

“Did you ever wonder if I had even survived after you left? Did it ever cross your mind even once if I was still alive?”

“I checked on you regularly.”

“I see, the technology to travel through the multiverse also grants you the ability to peer into the lives of people you have ruined.”

You still hadn’t turned around, refusing to give him any sort of indication that you had actually cared about whatever it was he had to say.

“Look, I-I know that I’ve screwed up. I know that I hurt you—”

“Hurt me?” You chuckled humorlessly, a hitch of pain in your throat and fire on your tongue. “Hurt. Me? You may have before.. but you’ll never hurt me again.”

Venom had come through on the last word, enunciating the end of the sentence with a snarl. Ferocious and purely built from the pure emotional pain they could feel coming from their host.

Miguel subtly flinched at the deep growl in your tone, not enough for you to see but enough of a twitch that your heightened senses had picked up on it.

And you chose that moment to make your escape, stepping forward and utilizing Venom to vanish within the pitch black abyss of the shadows. The added darkness provided by the night sky and waning pale moonlight casting deeper shadows aiding Venom in helping you disappear entirely.

“[Y/Name] wait!—” Miguel reached out expecting to touch flesh but was met with nothing.

He stepped back, looked left then right then both directions once more before he exhaled tiredly and leapt back down to the road below. He lifted the Goblin and threw him in before jumping in himself, the portal closing behind him leaving the desolate street in utter darkness once again.

You had watched, this time from the gargoyle statue attached to the side of the roof’s lip on the building above. Venom formed off your shoulder, their head with white eyes and a mouthful of razor sharp teeth complimented well by the black ink of their exterior. And their head stretched off your shoulder by several tendons and tendrils still attached to your body.

You met his blank, milky white stare as he spoke.

“He will return. Whether he wishes to talk or— something more.. what will you do?”

“I made my feelings clear, if he returns. If I see him in my universe again. We. Kill. him.”

You watched as Venom’s grin grew exponentially at your sinister promise. The ominous threat on Miguel’s life exciting him after all the years of trauma and pain he had inflicted upon their host Venom wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth in and never let go.

And if granted the opportunity he would seize it with little to zero hesitation.

Every Spider-Man needs a nemesis, no emotionally richer story than having that nemesis be your own daughter.

“You are sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’ve grown cold. Sinister.”

“I am what he made me.”

—

a/n: I’m a little stoned and had this abrupt idea— 🫢 this is weak and maybe a lil’ cringe.. I know that, I’ll make it legit when I’m not baked 😐👍🏽

[shanastoryteller]

Happy holidays!!! Some Lady Mo would be amazing :)

a continuation of 52 53 54 55 56 57 58

The banquet finally ends, half the attendants significantly more drunk than is wise considering the competitions scheduled for tomorrow. Oddly, Jiang Cheng is among them. Lan Wangji has seen him drink often enough, but this is the first time he's seen him properly drunk in over a decade. Li Shuchun drags him back to his room with his arm slung over her shoulder.

One of Jiang disciples wolf whistles and Xuanyu sends them a glare that has him shrinking back and ducking his head, then frowning and giving her an odd look which Xuanyu misses since she's already turned away.

Lan Wangji is glad to finally have Xuanyu back at his side as they walk to their assigned room. He closes the door and Xuanyu instantly slumps, tugging on her belt and shrugging off her thick, heavily embroidered outer robe so it's only her thin white inner robe. He leans down, picking it up and folding it as she goes over to the mirror and starts pulling out pins. "Finally! Yanli-jie went way too far with this. My hair would have stayed in place with even half of these."

Xuanyu wears her hair simply and struggles with the more complicated Lan styles and ornaments the few times she's bothered. But her hands move smoothly and easily as she unpins the Jiang style, picking out each pin and unwinding the complicated braid.

There is so much he wants to say, so much he feels like he should say, but it's all tangled and confused and he's older than her, has scene more than her and endured the horrors of war she escaped due to her age, but just then he wants to bury his head in her skirts like he once did to his mother until the throbbing behind his eyes eases.

Xuanyu catches his gaze in the mirror, one side of her mouth quirking up in a smile. "You okay, Wangji?"

"You did not know?" he asks, because that feels less fraught than everything else he wants to say.

She lowers a hand to rest on her stomach. There's no hint of the child she's carrying there, not yet. "No. Yanli-jie figured it out almost immediately, though. In my defense, I've never had a child before."

He does not want to be indelicate, but, "You did not notice when your bleeding stopped?"

An odd look crosses her face then she shrugs. "It, um, never really started?" He stares and she adds, "I was really skinny, Wangji."

He remembers. She's still small, but there's muscle and fat where before she'd been angular plans of skin and bones. The robes she'd wore had disguised a lot and then when she was living with him and couldn't help but notice he'd try to ignore her even still, leaving her to her own training and her own devices until he couldn't anymore.

He can't decide who he hates more just then. Jin Guangshan, the Mo family, or himself.

"Come on," she says softly, "let's get some sleep, yeah? It's been a long day."

He nods, silently disrobing. By the time he's brushed out his hair and changed, Xuanyu is already in bed, curled on her side and her hair in an unbrushed, haphazard bed and in the same white underrobe.

She looks even younger, face relaxed and breathing even.

It takes him a long time to follow her into sleep.

[little-miss-bioweapon121]

Part 3 Sangy and Baby this time as experienced by one of the Blood Angels @candyswirls I think you’ll really like this one

(Part 1 here)

(Part 2 here)

(Part 4 Here)

Cw: slight transhumanism

Antagrion was uncertain about what to make of the newest arrival.

Smaller than his fathers fist and fluffier than the sand lions on Baal the little thing was a far cry from the weapon of destruction they had all come to anticipate. Truly the tiny thing was quite well behaved, if the serfs were to be believed, and did little more than eat and sleep. Antagrion looks up from his battle notes at the sound of excited voices and cooing. He scrunches his nose in distaste as he watches two of his younger brothers fawn over the baby in their Fathers arms. Four days since they first brought it on board, and still the excitement of its presence had yet to abate.

That was another thing he couldn’t understand. Why was everyone making such a fuss over something so utterly benign? It couldn’t hold a bolter, couldn’t hold a knife, throne it couldn’t even hold a conversation. It was a mystery in origin and future potential, but one he was not all too keen to delve into. Turning away from the saccharine sweet scene before him Antagrion returns to his duties.

Later that night, when all is quiet on the command deck, Antagrion alone remains to finish paperwork and calculations. There are footsteps behind him but at such a late hour he dismisses them for those of a serf.

“Ah Captain, I thought I’d find you here.”

Not a serf. He turns to find his Primarch standing before him a warm smile on his face. Antagrion immediately straightens with an eager salute.

“My lord!”

Something shifts in the red fabric of Sanguinius’ toga before a small head of dark curls pops up.

“Oh, and the tiny thing too.”

A less enthused, but no less polite acknowledgment. Sanguinius huffs a laugh and adjusts his grip on the baby.

“I’d noticed that of all your brothers, you alone have yet to truly greet your youngest sibling.”

Antagrion shifts imperceptibly not so much in response to the judgement of his actions but to the topic itself. Once again that same little mystery he’s been more than happy to avoid seeks him out with all the persistence of a hunter.

“I just don’t understand.”

A tilt of the Primarchs head a silent urging to continue. Antagrion pauses for a moment. He stares at the child wrapped in the makeshift sling of his Fathers toga. The child stares back with the same scrutinizing intensity.

“It doesn’t really…do much. It eats, it sleeps, and occasionally makes noise. So why is everyone so….enchanted by it?”

He’s a little standoffish in his response but it makes Sanguinius laugh all the same. His father looks at him with clear mirth dancing on his features.

“They all have their own reasons for their excitement. Some more so than others. It would be remiss of me to attempt to give a single motive for their actions. Excitement, adoration, disinterest. There’s no right or wrong way to feel about this, nor do I expect a specific reaction from anyone, but as one of my captains you are in greater contact with me than the majority of the legion. You will more than likely be among my inner circle as the baby grows and matures. So if nothing else than for my own ease of mind,”

Sanguinius carefully scoops up the baby and holds him out towards Antagrion, a gentle encouraging smile on his face.

“I’d like you to say hello to your baby brother.”

A moment of hesitation before Antagrion gently takes the baby from his fathers grasp. Indulging his curiosity he holds the baby at arms length to finally get a good look. Hair black like ink and as curly as his Fathers, eyes a deep coppery brown, and two wings fuzzy with raven-black down feathers. He mentally acquiesces that the baby is aesthetically pleasing to look at, but still the fawning and cooing of his other brothers escapes him. Antagrion brings the baby to his chest in a more comfortable hold and in an instant the baby leans closer for a good look.

Scratch that the baby leans closer for a good sniff? Antagrion notes with curious amusement how the baby actually sniffs him and, apparently satisfied with his scent, relaxes against his chest. In equal parts curiosity and confusion he leans down for his own gentle sniff and-

Oh.

Hm.

Well all the fuss certainly makes more sense now. It’s a vague sensation in the back of his mind that catalogues the scent and immediately recognizes it as, well, not quite his but certainly something along those lines. Antagrion looks up at his Father with a suspicious squint.

“You knew this would happen, didn’t you.”

Sanguinius’ smile is still warm and friendly but the smug air behind it does not fool him.

“I will neither confirm nor deny my knowledge.”

A disbelieving hum. For a moment Antagrion is happy to simply stand there and cuddle with the baby, but one mystery continues to nag at him.

“Father?”

“Yes?”

“Whats the baby’s name? I never did learn it.”

“Ah yes, his name is….uh…”

“……..Father?”

A nervous cough from Sanguinius and Antagrion’s stare flattens in disbelief.

“You forgot to name him didn’t you.”

“In my defense it has been a very busy few days.”

“I gathered.”