#i doubt you expected something different :D

[fictionalsillies]

💚 The calm after the storm 💙 { a Jadebone fanfic }

I had the project to create a story about these two in mind for a really long time , but I could never find the courage to post anything about it until now : I figured it would be nice to do something a bit different from my silly drawings , and plus I’m just very curious to see how others would react to this kind of thing :D ❣️

With all that said , hopefully it turned out okay !

☠️ Disclaimers : presence of mild swearing , possible ooc moments and lots of tooth rotting fluff … just the usual stuff you’d expect from me :’]👍 Also I’m generally not a very skilled writer , so it’s definitely not perfect by any means !

< … and then I watched those dumbass Reds blow themselves up on those asteroids ! Can you believe it ?? >

Jaw Bone’s grin widened as he heard Jade laugh in response , a sound that he was always more than eager to hear .

It had been quite a busy day for the skeleton and his crew , filled with the usual hunts for treasure in the Quarantine Zone and intense battles against the L.A.W ships trying to send them away , and as much as he enjoyed both of those things there had been a certain tiredness seeping in his bones the more time went by … an emptiness that no amount of riches or victories could fill .

He just wanted to be alone for a bit with the one person who he felt the most at ease with , so he had immediately called Jade to meet up at her place like they did every time they weren’t busy doing their own thing .

Jaw Bone still didn’t know why , but being around her brought a sense of calmness to his mind that he found very pleasant : he knew that he could be himself without the fear of being treated like nothing more than a dangerous monster , and as he sat next to Jade on the couch of her living room he leaned his head back , releasing a relaxed sigh .

< Heh , wow … crazy how some rocks are all it takes to stop the so called “protectors of the universe” from doing their job , like … THAT’S embarrassing . >

Jade smiled , gently leaning her head on his shoulder .

< But then again , I doubt that any of those guys could stand a chance against you , JB . > 

Jaw Bone chuckled , his arm wrapping around her as he glanced in her direction with a smug expression .

< Sheesh babe , are you tryin’a flatter me now ? If you keep feeding my ego like this , who knows what’s gonna happen ? ~ > 

< Hah - as if you don’t like it when I flatter you ~ > , Jade replied , placing a kiss on his pale cheek . 

His eyes softened , and for a brief moment Jaw Bone the Plague Walker seemed like a completely different version of himself , nothing like the one that terrified L.A.W Agents and anyone unfortunate enough to be in his way …

He took a deep breath and held her against his chest , watching as Jade gladly snuggled closer with a content smile … the one that never failed to make him feel at peace , despite all the troubles and complications he had to face daily .

There was a time when he would’ve despised the mere idea of acting all “lovey-dovey” with somebody else : he had been hurt by trusting the wrong person before , and since then he had swore to never trust anyone aside from the Scythelords … though it seemed like that promise was short lived in the end .

< Hey , Jade … ? >

< Mm … ? What’s up , hon ? >

< I know we ain’t gonna be able to outrun those a*holes out there forever , so I just want you to know this . >

Jaw Bone gently lifted up her chin , his eyes locked with hers .

< No matter what happens … you’ll always be my greatest treasure , and there’s nothing in this universe that could ever change that . >

Jade remained quiet for a moment , fully taking in what he said before a loving smile illuminated her face . < JB … >

The skeleton sighed softly the moment her gloved hand brushed against his cheek , leaning into her touch while she spoke .

< I promise you , I am never gonna leave your side . You’re … everything I could’ve ever asked for , and if L.A.W wants to get you they’ll need to get through me first . >

A red spark briefly appeared in her eyes …

< … and I won’t go down without a fight . >

He grinned in response , kissing her palm before embracing her again .

Yeah … he was very aware of that : as much as she loved to plan and be prepared for anything at all times , Jade always seemed to lose her composure whenever his life was dangerously on the line , going berserk on anyone who had dared to harm her partner …

But while he admired her strength and determination , deep down Jaw Bone hoped that she would never end up getting hurt beyond repair in order to help him …

That one time when she had gotten badly wounded after getting caught by surprise by a bunch of L.A.W Agents was still engraved in his memory , and despite making sure that those Red Suits never got to breathe again the idea of losing Jade was enough to send a terrifying chill down to his every bone .

… it was no use to worry now , though :

Jade was there , she was right there with him … they were safe and sound , and Jaw Bone didn’t plan on letting her go anytime soon ❤️

[s7my]

H O W N E P T U N E C L O U D S Y O U R C L A R I T Y 🌁

neptune in astrology is tied to dreams, illusions, and blurred lines. when it aspects other planets, it can soften clarity, making things feel more emotional, idealized, or confusing. it doesn’t lie, but it makes reality feel foggy; beautiful or heartbreaking, but hard to pin down. depending on the planet, it can bring deep intuition or escapism, creativity or confusion. ☁️🌪️

☉ sun-neptune

when neptune touches your sun, your sense of identity can be unclear or hard to define. you may struggle with self-doubt, not because you lack confidence, but because you’re constantly unsure of who you really are or who you’re supposed to be. you might absorb expectations from others without realizing it, which leads to shapeshifting in different settings. it’s easy to lose yourself in roles, relationships, or goals that don’t feel solid. people might think you’re inspirational or mysterious, but internally you may feel directionless or vague. the challenge here is finding a sense of self that isn’t built on other people’s projections or unrealistic ideals.

☽ moon-neptune

this aspect often makes emotional boundaries weak. you feel everything, even things that aren’t yours. you might have grown up in an environment where emotions weren’t clearly expressed, or where confusion and avoidance were common. now, you may struggle to trust your emotional instincts because you’re used to second-guessing yourself. sometimes you cope through fantasy, detachment, or checking out emotionally. you might be drawn to art, music, or helping others, but the real work is learning what you actually feel vs what you’ve absorbed from others.

☿ mercury-neptune

communication gets tricky here. your thinking might be creative, abstract, or nonlinear, but when you try to explain it, it doesn’t always come out clearly. people might misunderstand you or say you’re being vague, even when you feel like you're being real. sometimes, you avoid conflict by being indirect, or you say what others want to hear just to keep things peaceful. at worst, this can lead to misinformation or people not trusting what you say. on the flip side, you’re great at understanding nuance and reading between the lines. just make sure you’re not filling in blanks with wishful thinking.

♀ venus-neptune

relationships can be a blind spot. you want connection, but you’re more likely to fall for potential than reality. you might ignore red flags or put people on a pedestal without realizing it, especially when you’re emotionally invested. you crave a kind of closeness that feels deep and healing, but if you're not careful, that can turn into emotional codependency or chasing unavailable people. this aspect can also affect how you handle money or aesthetics. your taste might be refined or artistic, but decision-making can be inconsistent. clarity in love and finances is something you learn over time.

♂ mars-neptune

your drive and motivation aren’t consistent. some days you’re inspired, and other days it’s hard to even get started. you might avoid confrontation, not because you’re weak, but because direct conflict feels overwhelming or pointless to you. when you do act, it’s often based on emotion or instinct more than logic. that can make you seem spontaneous or unreliable. there’s also a chance of drifting into passivity, where you wait for motivation instead of building habits. the key here is figuring out what you truly care about so your actions aren’t just reactive or based on vague desires.

♃ jupiter-neptune

you tend to have big dreams or ideals, but following through on them isn’t always consistent. optimism can tip into unrealistic thinking, especially around beliefs, future goals, or trusting people too easily. you might take spiritual or philosophical ideas too far without grounding them in everyday experience. there’s a genuine desire to grow and understand the world, but sometimes you bypass hard truths in favor of feel-good narratives. learning to question your assumptions and stay critical helps you stay grounded, especially in areas of education, spirituality, or leadership.

♄ saturn-neptune

this aspect creates a push-pull between structure and surrender. on one hand, you crave stability; on the other, you fear rigidity or being boxed in. you might set unrealistic goals for yourself, then feel crushed when they don’t go as planned. or, you avoid responsibility altogether because the pressure feels unbearable. there can be a lot of guilt or self-doubt tied to your sense of discipline, as if no matter what you do, it’s never enough. this usually shows up in career, authority issues, or how you set boundaries. the lesson is learning to work steadily without losing touch with your values or reality.

♅ uranus-neptune

you’re drawn to unconventional or progressive ideas, but your sense of what’s real and what’s visionary can blur. sometimes you take risks without fully thinking them through because you get swept up in the excitement of change or rebellion. you might idealize freedom but struggle with stability. your thinking is innovative, but not always grounded. you tend to pick up trends or insights before others do, but you also need to check whether your ideas are actually useful or just sound good in theory. balance between creativity and practicality is key.

♇ pluto-neptune

you carry deep emotional intensity, but it’s not always expressed outwardly. there’s a tendency to internalize pain, or to be drawn to experiences that feel meaningful but also emotionally heavy. you might feel like you’re constantly in the process of healing or transforming, but the lines between trauma, fantasy, and truth can get blurry. you might romanticize suffering or avoid closure because you’re addicted to emotional depth. it’s not about being dramatic–it’s about learning to release what isn’t yours to carry. emotional clarity takes time and effort, but it’s worth it.

thanks for reading! <3 @s7my

[tojisun]

simon (ghost) riley x fem reader

!! suggestive-ish; hinted age difference (20s vs 30s); hinted d/s; minors dni

“why won’t you fuck me?”

your pitiful voice stops simon from moving, his feet stuttering with muted thuds. he breathes in sharply, not having expected the words that slipped from your lips, before he turns and tips his head towards you.

you’re trembling, and simon doesn’t know if it’s because of the cool air or the intensity of your emotions, those that urged you to whine at his pathetic display of restraint, but still he hesitates. afraid that if he comes close, then the remnant of his patience will finally snap.

because it’s not that simon wouldn’t fuck you – god knows there’s nothing more he’d want to do than love you slowly and deeply, caressing you tenderly until you are trembling at the intensity of his passion; until the doubts are finally crushed by the force of his affections – but it’s that he knew you deserve someone better.

someone who wouldn’t leave you for months and years long because of a mission. someone who’d stay by your side each and every hour because he knows you (sometimes he wished he didn’t, if only to make it easier to forget about you), and he knows that you need someone to spoil you. to pamper you.

simon knows you deserve more than the world, knows that he can only give you pieces of it but he’s selfish. he’s a monster wearing a human suit – incapable of surrendering, incapable of giving you up.

because simon knows you deserve better but gods he doesn’t want to let you go.

he moves to speak but you beat him to it, your lips wobbling as tears trickle down the corners of your eyes like molten diamonds. “you parade me around like a trophy wife but you won’t even give me a portion of that attention. you-”

his heart stops at the choked sob that gets stuck in the base of your throat, your face crumpling as you tremble at the intensity of your heartache.

it was instant how he moved to you, his frantic steps echoing against the cobblestone. he takes you in his arms, tucking your head underneath his chin and engulfing you in his embrace, hoping that you’d hear the staccato of his heart and know that it only ever beats for you.

you whine like you couldn’t decide if you want his comfort or not and simon freezes, afraid that he’s just heightened your bleeding heart. he moves to step away, his lips parting for an apology, but you clutch at the ends of his shirt, refusing to let go.

he follows your silent command – simon will follow you no matter where, no matter what – and presses you close again, his warmth mixing with yours and chasing away the goosebumps that littered your skin.

he kisses the top of your head, breathing you in. simon mulls over what to say, his own hesitation bursting at the corners of his mind, but he wants to stop pretending. he wants to stop lying to himself.

you love him and he loves you – sometimes, it could be that easy.

words aren’t his strongest suits but he tries anyway. “i love you,” he begins, the words slipping past his teeth with the simplicity of the truth. “i burn with the desire to be with you, sweet girl. but not this way. not yet.”

you tip your head up just enough to catch his gaze and simon croons at your swollen eyes, pressing gentle kisses on your eyebrows in comfort.

“why not?” you ask, ever so stubborn.

“because there are preparations that need to be done,” he replies, humming when your eyes widen in surprise. “i want to make love with you, sweetheart. not just make it as something fast and temporary.”

he watches you breathe in shakily.

“would you want that?” simon continues amidst your silence, his hand coming up to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

you bite your bottom lip and nod. he clicks his tongue. “use y’r words. i need to hear it from you.”

“yes please,” you whisper, and simon coos at the broken rumble of your voice, still heavy with doubt. “i- yes. please, simon. i’d love that.”

“me too, sweet girl.” simon kisses your forehead, sealing the promise. “i’d love nothing more.”

[more-mara]

a/b/o with omega!Oscar but nobody really knew or expected he was one until they paid attention to how he acted and how he looked and they were like "🤨 hold on-"

thought about it like sfw but as you wish!:D

thankss

Mwah mwah mwah love this concept. Didn’t really know which angle to approach this from regarding drivers but I gave it a go.

Formula one, the pinnacle of motorsport. The 20 best drivers competing at the highest level meant that there was no room for distractions, not when they were driving at 300 kilometres an hour in less than optimal conditions. That’s probably why the FIA demanded a suppressant clause be worked into every drivers contract.

The thing with suppressants was that they worked and they worked well, eliminating all chances of instinctual behaviours that could otherwise cause issues between the drivers. So, all of them were required to be on them.

Nobody really spoke about their designation, it was a little taboo to ask someone outright so the majority of the grid remained an unknown.

It’s not like suppressants worked by slapping a patch on their scent glands and going about their days. Suppressants weren’t dissimilar to contraceptives where in they are required to take a pill at the same time every day in order to suppress their instincts.

Most drivers were on the yearly ones that required them to be taken constantly throughout the year with no breaks whereas a select few took specific ones where they could bypass taking them during breaks.

Max Verstappen was the only current driver on the latter and his designation came out pretty quickly once the summer break hit. Alpha. No shocks there.

It was widely assumed that the entire grid were alphas. It was an alpha sport after all. Only one driver had the misfortune of being held under a lens when it came to his designation and that was Charles Leclerc- constantly questioned and monitored by the media who were desperate to know if he was really an omega.

That one was a shock. When his suppressants suddenly started to fail mid race and a deep, musky scent started to fill the paddock once he stepped out of the car. Charles knew what had happened immediately and just shrugged it off with utmost casualty.

“You’re- you’re an alpha?!” Max gasped, brows furrowing deeply. Charles scoffed as he looked over at him.

“Yeah?”

“But- I’m an alpha, that can’t work,” Max muttered, brushing his hand through his head frustratedly.

“What? What are you talking about?” Charles questioned, starting to unbutton the top of his race suit.

“Nothing- nothing,”

And that was that. Charles Leclerc, the most stereotypical omega on the grid, was in fact, an alpha.

Maybe that revelation was what kickstarted the other drivers to become a little more curious about their fellow competitors. Certain drivers knew of other drivers’ designations simply from being close friends but they would never share that information without explicit consent.

Lando hadn’t really though much about his current teammates designation. Oscar was just so…normal. He safely assumed that Oscar was a beta without having any real reason to doubt that.

Until Oscar was seeming a little lethargic during free practice where it seemed that even getting out of the car was a struggle. Lando felt concerned immediately- something weird and protective bubbling up inside him.

Landos feet were moving before he could even stop himself, hands grabbing for Oscar’s shoulders.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his voice low in a whisper so that no one else could hear- why didn’t he want anyone else to hear?

Oscar blinked at him. And then blinked again. Then blinked once more for good measure before letting out an airy laugh.

“Im fine, mate. I didn’t sleep much because of the time zone difference. I’m good to race, don’t worry, I won’t put it in the barrier and cost the team points,” Oscar said, patting Lando on the back before walking away towards the engineers.

Thats…not what he meant. He wasn’t concerned that Oscar was going to cost the team points, he was worried that Oscar was sick or in pain. It was something primal inside him that was screaming to protect.

Fucking hell, he needed to get himself under control before Oscar started seeing him as the overbearing teammate that was using his 18 extra months on earth against him.

Oscar didn’t need protecting. The issue was that Lando wanted to protect him.

-

“So…Alpha then?” Oscar asked timidly, sliding up beside Charles before they were due to step onto the truck for the drivers parade.

It was the next race after Charles’ shocking designation revelation and it seemed to be the only thing anyone wanted to talk about.

Charles just shrugged, eyes narrowing on Oscar.

“Say what you’re thinking,” Charles said, tone as little sharp. Sue him, all he’s been hearing is how shocked everyone was that he wasn’t an omega.

Oscar seemed startled by the hostility, frowning a little before stepping a little closer, lowering his voice before he spoke again.

“Were you offended that everyone doubted your designation?” Oscar asked, eyes wide but his face was as neutral as ever.

Charles’ face scrunched in confusion.

“Uh…no. It was more that I didn’t like people questioning my ability because of who they thought I was,” Charles said.

And it was true. Any time he fucked up in a race, lost the lead from pole or even had mechanical failures, the media erupted, always making the quip of “must be because he’s an omega,”.

Charles didn’t like that.

“Right…” Oscar said, backing off a little as he folded his arms and leaned against the wall.

“Why?” Charles asked cautiously, but part of him though he’d already connected the dots now that he really thought about it.

About Oscar. About the kind smile he’d always flash in his direction, about the soft way he spoke and plaint way he accepted praise. Charles didn’t want to be stereotypical, but somethings things like this added up.

Oscar looked at him with an expression that could only mean one thing. Uncertainty.

“Doesn’t matter,” Oscar muttered, dropping his gaze from Charles’.

So Charles did what any Nobel alpha would do. He dropped the subject.

“Want to come play paddle tomorrow?”

Charles supposed clamping down on his curiosity was worth it to see the sparkle in Oscar’s eyes at that.

“Y-yeah, sure,”

-

Max hadn’t expected to become so attached to Oscar. He was good mates with Lando and Oscar was obviously Landos teammate so Max supposed it was only natural that he tried to get along with him.

He just didn’t think he’d like him as much as he did.

Oscar could be a little closed off at times and Max respected it. Respected his privacy.

It’s why he felt like complete shit when he accidentally snooped on Oscar’s phone.

He hadn’t meant to, only him and Oscar have incredibly similar phone cases so it was easy to accidentally grab the wrong one. He was only shocked it took this long to happen.

He had gotten all the way into his drivers room before his phone (or more accurately, Oscar’s phone) buzzed. It was a calendar reminder and it seemed to illuminate the entire screen as Max stared at it.

This was definitely not his phone.

Pre-Heat likely to start

Tomorrow at 8am

Okay. So Max really should just forget he saw this. Fuck. Oscar was…Max shouldn’t know.

Max scrubbed a hand through his hair as he switched Oscar’s phone off immediately before pocketing it again. He should tell Oscar. He deserves that, at least.

He didn’t have much time to prepare before there was a knock at the door and a soft voice calling for him.

“Max? I have your phone,”

It was Oscar. Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck.

“Yeah, come in, mate,” Max said, gritting his teeth as he tried to desperately think up how he was going to word this. He had to tell Oscar that he knew. Had to apologise. Had to- fuck, he just had to make sure Oscar was okay.

Oscar seemed as casual as ever as he gave Max a soft smile before reaching his arm out with Maxs phone in his hand.

“Here. We must have picked up the wrong ones,” He said easily as he slid the phone into Maxs loose grasp.

“Oh…” Max said before reaching round to his back pocket to grab Oscar’s phone to hand off to him.

“Easy mistake,” Max said as Oscar grabbed his phone before immediately looking at the screen.

Max was about to open his mouth to speak, to explain to Oscar that he would keep his secret safe but as soon as Oscar looked at his phone, his face seemed to crumble. Blatant fear and anxiety written all over his body language.

“You- you hadn’t checked your phone yet, had tou?” He asked, eyes wide and breath hitched.

Max couldn’t even bear to see him like this. To see him so scared. Fuck. He couldn’t let the omega feel like this. Max was an alpha- it was his job to protect.

“No,” He said simply and Oscar’s body seemed to sag as the tension seeped out of him immediately. Relief flowing over him.

“Right, okay, that’s good. I’ll seen you next week then,” Oscar was out the door before Max could say anything further.

And if he started to pay closer attention to Oscar and make sure to hold doors open for him more often than usual then that was no one’s business but his own.

-

There was no doubt in Carlos’ mind about Oscar’s designation. Not that he thought about it that often. It was just that Oscar clearly didn’t want to share territory with Carlos so was taking it out on him on track. That had to be the only logical explanation. It was natural for alphas to fight over dominance.

Perhaps he wanted to have a go at Oscar for impeding him during the race- not that the FIA seemed to agree as they had deemed it a racing incident. Carlos thought otherwise. But maybe that’s why he ended up at the McLaren hospitality.

He didn’t exactly know how he was going to approach this. It was late, there was no one around but Carlos knew Oscar was still here- he’d specifically asked Lando about it who had looked at him a little suspiciously.

Except, strangely, Carlos wandered in on Oscar sleeping. Body curled up in a tower of pillows and blankets that seemed to make him look so small. Carlos’ eyes widened a little.

Oscar was sleeping in a nest.

And he was purring.

Carlos blinked in confusion before his eyes settled on Oscar’s face, as he observed the soft curve of Oscar’s nose and the swoop of his hair. The solidness of his shoulders but the narrowness of his waist. Now that Carlos looked at him, like, really looked, he could see the way Oscar’s body differed from his own in a way that suggested more than just nutritional differences.

Carlos had heard about it before. About how some omegas lash out against alphas as a form of protection- a way to keep themselves safe and warn alphas that they would not be taken down easily.

Strangely, Carlos’ chest tightened at that thought.

Did Oscar see him as a threat? Like…a genuine threat, in a way that the omega feared that Carlos would physically harm him?

Oh god.

Carlos almost felt sick at the thought. He would never do something to actually harms Oscar.

Sure, he pissed Carlos off in ways that no one else seemed to manage and his nonchalant nature just vied to make Carlos angrier. But he’d never hurt him.

Carlos had barely noticed himself getting closer, basically standing over Oscar’s nest. Carlos quickly realised that if Oscar were to wake up in this moment then he would seem pretty threatening so he stood back as quickly as he realised.

He couldn’t have this.

He would prove to Oscar that he was a worthy alpha.

[chogiwow]

the law of unintended consequences. | jake sim (part four)

→ posits that actions often have unforeseen and unanticipated effects, which may be positive, negative, or neutral, that are not part of the actor's original intent. MASTERLIST | PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

pairing: astrophysicist jake x assistant reader

genre: co-workers to lovers

wc: part 1 – 20k | part 2 – 17.3k | part 3 - 21.2k | part 4 - 26.3k

warnings: slowburn, topics of abandonment issues, jake has his first kiss, makeouts, some touching (that's as far as it goes), cheesy ass astronomy rizz :'D

a/n: its over, pls im gonna cry :(((( i absolutely hate the ending for many reasons but it'll grow on me (i hope)

twenty-five.

you don’t expect this to happen really.

in fact, the moment is so carefully tucked between the banality of reports and afternoon coffee that it almost slips past you. almost.

jake has been quiet all morning. not withdrawn – just… focused. he’s been holed up in his office, the door half-closed but not locked, emerging only to refill his mug or grab a file. he greets you when you pass, offers you a small smile when your hands brush accidentally reaching for the same stapler, but otherwise says nothing about the phone call. nothing about the way your name had tumbled out of his mouth late at night, stargazed and slow. nothing about the half-confession you’ve replayed in your mind too many times to count.

and to be fair, you hadn’t expected him to. not really.

because jake wasn’t the kind of person who brought up feelings easily. he spoke in numbers and probability, hid behind logic, folded his uncertainty into late-night lab notes and tentative half-smiles. he didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve. he barely wore it at all.

so no, you didn’t expect him to bring up the call. you didn’t expect him to repeat the quiet ache in his voice when he said what he said. you didn’t expect him to stand there, heart in hand, and name whatever it was that had been building between you for weeks now.

it’s a new week. there are deadlines to meet, proposals to finalise, and his conference to prep for – the same one he’s been talking about under his breath for the last month, biting his pen caps and pacing in front of his whiteboard when he thought no one was watching. you’d encouraged him about it once, when he was doubting everything and you were too tired to be tactful.

you hadn’t meant for your words to linger.

but maybe they had. maybe something about the way you’d said he was the most brilliant man ever had rooted itself deeper than you realized.

because today, there’s something different in the way he moves.

not obvious enough for anyone else to notice, but you see it. you’ve always been good at reading the quiet things. the little twitches of his hand when he’s nervous. the way his fingers hover over the keyboard just a second too long when he’s overthinking. the crease between his brows when he’s trying to talk himself down from something he might actually want.

and today, he’s… composed. still jake – focused and quiet – but he hasn’t chewed a pen cap once. he hasn’t sighed dramatically and muttered about how he’s probably going to black out halfway through presenting his research.

it’s like…he’s made a decision.

and it’s not until after lunch, when you’re both still riding the inertia of a chaotic morning, that it happens.

you’re seated at your desk, skimming through slides, red-penning a typo in one of the research titles when a shadow falls across your desk.

you glance up.

jake’s standing there. a little uncertain, fingers curled at his side, but his eyes are steady.

“hey,” he says. his voice is low, casual, but there’s something clipped at the edges. like whatever he’s about to say has been reworded in his head a thousand times already.

“hey,” you reply, blinking. “need help with something?”

he doesn’t answer right away. just clears his throat, then leans forward slightly, voice quiet enough that only you can hear. “do you have a minute?”

you nod, confused but curious, and push your chair back. he gestures for you to follow him, and you trail behind, expecting maybe some urgent error in a file, maybe a last-minute check on a layout or venue arrangement or whatever else could’ve possibly warranted a hushed hallway escort.

but he doesn’t lead you to his office.

he walks right past it in fact – past the labs, past the shared workroom, past the break room – and stops near the far end of the corridor, just outside the old faculty lounge that no one really uses anymore.

he opens the door, waits for you to step in first, then closes it behind him.

it’s quiet here. dim lighting, a couple of mismatched couches, and the faint hum of the vending machine. it smells like coffee and old carpet.

jake takes a breath.

“okay,” he says. “so—uh. you know the conference?”

you blink. “the one this weekend?”

he nods. “yeah. that one.”

you tilt your head. “did something happen with it?”

“no – no, it’s all good. i mean…actually, it’s better than good. i’m done with the slides. jay double-checked my data sets this morning and the university’s confirmed the final schedule.” he pauses. “it’s… kind of real now.”

there’s a flicker in your chest – something warm, something proud. you smile softly. “that’s amazing, jake. i told you you’d—”

“i want you to come with me.”

you freeze.

“what?”

jake looks at you then – really looks at you. and it’s not the same quiet, distracted gaze he gives you when you hand him a new report to read or when you tease him about forgetting lunch again. it’s steadier. intentional. like he’s finally stopped letting the moment pass him by.

“i want you to come with me,” he says again, slower this time. “to the conference. it’s in daegu, yeah, but the university’s covering most of it. i can get a plus one – uh, unofficially. it’s allowed, technically. and i just…” he trails off for a second, looking somewhere over your shoulder. “i think i’d do better if you were there.”

your heart stutters. you search his face. “like… as your assistant?”

jake blinks. then quickly shakes his head. “no. not – no. not as my assistant.” his voice catches for a second, then steadies. “as you. just you.”

the silence after that is immediate – and a little unfair.

because now it’s loud in your chest. loud in the stillness between you. loud in the way you suddenly can’t seem to find the right muscles to control your face.

jake scratches the back of his neck, his eyes darting away. “i mean, only if you want to. obviously. you don’t have to. i know it’s last-minute and kind of out of the blue and maybe a little weird, and i’m not great at asking for things, and i wasn’t going to bring it up but then i remembered that—”

at this point, jake stops himself from blabbering. because he knew he was going to bring up friday night, the way your words had stuck with him since then. the way he had put away your note – folded it once, then again – then tucked it inside his wallet like it was something fragile and private, like it meant something he wasn’t ready to say out loud. and maybe it still does, because even now, as he stands in front of you, shifting from foot to foot, eyes fixed anywhere but your own, he doesn’t finish the sentence. doesn’t tell you how often he’s looked at that note since. doesn’t tell you how it had kept him grounded when everything else felt like it was slipping.

you watch him now, shoulders drawn tight under the crisp line of his button-down, lips parted like he’s still weighing the risk of finishing that thought. but then, as if something shifts, he lets out a breath and meets your gaze again, a small, lopsided smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“what i mean is,” he says, softer now, “it would mean a lot if you came.”

you open your mouth. nothing comes out.

because this isn’t a follow-up to the phone call. not directly.

but it’s something. it's… more.

you think about all the hours you’ve spent orbiting each other lately. the shared coffees. the exchanged glances. the silence between your desks that somehow doesn’t feel empty.

you think about jake – brilliant, brooding jake – asking you not to help, but to be there. just you.

“you don’t have to decide now,” he adds quickly, mistaking your silence. “i just wanted to ask. and i didn’t want to make it weird. if you’d rather not, i get it.”

“no,” you say, a little too fast. “i mean – yes. i mean—”

you take a breath. start over.

“i’d like to go.”

jake lifts his head. “yeah?”

“yeah,” you nod, smiling now. “i’d like to be there.”

there’s something like relief in his eyes. something almost boyish that softens his features, makes him look like he did that night in the observatory when you stood under a starkissed sky – uncertain, but wanting.

jake lets out a breath, a small, almost sheepish grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"alright then," he says, as if he can’t quite believe it himself. his gaze lingers on you for a moment longer, like he's trying to hold onto this moment, this piece of something new between you two. something that feels... easier now, lighter, like the weight of the unspoken has been lifted just a little bit.

"i’ll send you the details later," jake adds, his voice a little softer now, almost hesitant, like he's afraid of making it more complicated than it has to be. but for the first time, you don’t mind. the words feel good, even if they don’t say everything. they don’t need to.

and then as if caught in a moment of realisation, he pauses, his hand awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as he realizes what he just said. "actually, you probably already have the details."

he chuckles lightly, a bit embarrassed at himself for the slip-up. "i mean, i guess i just wanted to make sure it was official. and, you know, make it... not weird."

you can’t help but laugh softly, the tension finally easing as the moment shifts into something more comfortable. "it’s not weird, dr. sim. don’t worry."

the name slips off your tongue on impulse more than will. jake doesn’t say anything this time, simply resigns to biting down on his lips but smiling regardless.

he gives you a relieved smile, his eyes softer than they’ve been all day. "right. thanks."

you both stand there for a beat longer than usual, neither of you wanting to be the first to break the silence, but there’s a sense of understanding now. no need for more words. the unspoken things are already there, ready to be discovered when the time comes.

twenty-six.

the next morning, the office feels strangely louder.

not because anything is out of the ordinary. it’s the same rhythm as always – printers humming in the distance, chairs creaking, conversations laced with half-laughed jokes and the occasional echo of footsteps down the hallway. but somehow, all of it feels more intense, more alive. maybe because your brain won’t stop noticing everything today. every time someone walks past jake’s office. every time jake shifts behind his desk. every time you accidentally make eye contact and forget what you were supposed to be doing.

you blame the way your brain has decided to loop the words “as you. just you,” like it’s a new favorite playlist. a sentence dropped casually, nervously, and then buried under stammered disclaimers. and still, it clings. sticks like honey to your thoughts, dripping into every idle second, every empty stare at your screen. you’re trying to be normal. you’re trying so hard.

jake, for the record, is doing a terrible job at being normal too.

it’s not that he’s awkward. jake doesn’t really do awkward, at least not the way most people do. but there’s something off about his calm today. like it’s a little too deliberate. like he’s concentrating too hard on being unaffected. his greetings are polite, measured. he answers your questions with just enough eye contact and just enough of a smile. but there’s a carefulness to the way he moves around you today that wasn’t there before. a precision to the way he chooses his words. and it shouldn’t be driving you insane, but it is.

you barely make it halfway through your second coffee when jay pops his head over the divider between your desks.

“you two are the worst at pretending,” he announces cheerfully.

you blink. “what?”

jay gestures vaguely toward the hallway. “you and our dear doctor sim. you’ve been orbiting each other like emotionally repressed satellites all morning.”

your mouth opens, then closes. “that’s – what does that even mean?”

jay squints at you. “it means i’m right and you know it.”

“i literally don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“okay,” he says slowly, as if humoring a child. “so you weren’t smiling like a teenager after he asked you to go to the conference with him yesterday?”

“i wasn’t—”

“and he hasn’t looked like he’s lowkey planning an interstellar exit every time he sees you today?”

you scowl, heat crawling up your neck. “jay.”

“okay, okay.” he raises his hands in surrender, though the grin never leaves his face. “i’m just saying. it’s very compelling television.”

you groan, dropping your forehead onto the desk.

jay snickers and tosses a wrapped granola bar at you before retreating, humming to himself like a man victorious.

the rest of the morning passes in fragments – emails, adjustments to the schedule, a brief discussion with the logistics team – and all the while, you’re distinctly aware of the time ticking toward the prep meeting you’re supposed to have with jake. you’d agreed to help him finalize the slide decks, sort through the printed materials, and double-check the itinerary.

when you finally knock on his door and peek in, jake’s sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of his desk, papers fanned out around him like constellations.

he looks up immediately. “hey.”

“hey,” you say, a little breathless even though you’ve barely walked two feet. “i brought the revised program list.”

“perfect.” he gestures to the floor beside him. “come on in. i made space.”

you lower yourself to the ground, your shoulder brushing his as you settle in. it takes you exactly three seconds to register how warm the room feels. or maybe it’s just him. he’s in his sleeves-rolled-up mode today – loose collar, fingers ink-smudged from scribbling across his notes, hair a little messier than usual. you try not to stare. you fail a little.

“okay,” jake says, and you focus hard on the papers instead. “so i figured we could split this by session blocks. i’ll walk you through what i’ve got, and you tell me if it makes sense or if i’m completely losing my mind.”

you grin. “deal.”

what follows is a deep dive into color codes, footnotes, and logistics – half of which make no sense to you because you don’t do science and physics the way jake does, but you let him breeze through his keynote speeches,  your eyes flicking across the words he had printed out and annotated on flashcards. and somehow, in the middle of all of it, you both slip into a rhythm. you catch the typos he misses in his presentation. he rephrases the awkward blurbs you hesitate over. you pass him your highlighter without being asked. it’s fluid. comfortable. natural.

except for the moments that aren’t.

like when your hands brush reaching for the same paperclip, and he stills for a second too long.

or when he catches you smiling at a doodle you scribbled into the margin last week that he kept regardless.

or when you mention one of the speakers and he mutters, almost distracted, “you’re the reason i didn’t drop out of this thing.”

you pretend you didn’t hear that one. you both pretend.

it’s a slow afternoon, heavy with the kind of focus that only happens when you’ve got a deadline and too many feelings you’re both avoiding. and somehow, somewhere in the mix of shared eye-rolls and shuffling documents, you forget how easy it is to lose track of time around him. you forget to look at the clock. you forget that people are probably heading out for lunch already. you forget that you haven’t eaten.

that’s a first for even you. until jay appears in the doorway, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“you two,” he says, arms crossed. “you’ve been in here for three hours. did one of you die or fall into a wormhole or something?”

jake blinks up at him. “wait – what time is it?”

jay sighs, stepping inside and snatching the half-empty mug beside jake. “time to take a break, dr. cosmic. go eat and hydrate. stop staring at each other like you’re characters in a tragic novella.”

“i wasn’t—”

“we weren’t—”

jay’s eyes narrow. “out.”

jake stands first, brushing his hands on his slacks before offering you one. you hesitate a second too long before taking it. his palm is warm, fingers steady, and your heart does a quiet little somersault as he helps you up.

jay’s already muttering something sarcastic under his breath when jake looks over at you again.

“i can go grab us something,” he offers. “if you’re still okay to keep working after?”

you nod. “yeah. of course.”

jake’s eyes soften. “okay. i’ll be back in ten.”

you watch him disappear down the hallway, and for the first time all day, you let yourself smile without worrying about what it might mean.

later, after sandwiches and soft laughter and the return of a calm that felt like it belonged only to the two of you – you find yourself alone again in the office. jake’s stepped out to talk to one of the coordinators, and you’re left flipping through the finalized agenda, your fingers ghosting over the notes you’d scrawled beside his name weeks ago.

you don’t even realize he’s returned until he’s standing beside you again, quiet.

“i… meant what i said,” jake says suddenly, voice low.

you look up. “about?”

his gaze is careful. focused. “about wanting you there. not because you’re my assistant. but because you make things easier. i think better when you’re around.”

your throat goes dry.

“and i know i kind of suck at saying stuff like that,” he continues, glancing away like he can’t quite hold the weight of his own words. “but… the other night. the call. i wasn’t just drunk. i meant it. i just didn’t know how to say it sober.”

there’s a beat of silence that stretches a little too long. you try to say something. you really do.

but all you manage is a quiet, “jake…”

he shakes his head, stopping you gently. “you don’t have to say anything. i just… wanted you to know.”

the moment feels suspended in amber – still, slow, fragile. and maybe there’s too much you’re both still figuring out. maybe it’s too early for names and confessions and clearly drawn lines. but it’s not too early for this. for the space between you narrowing. for the truth to inch closer. for something real to begin growing in the light.

outside the window, the sky begins to shift. dusky and pale gold.

inside, it’s warm. quiet. and for once, neither of you rushes to fill the silence.

later that night, your apartment is quiet. too quiet.

you’ve showered, finally managed to eat something, even lit that vanilla candle you always forget you own. your suitcase sits at the foot of your bed, zipped and ready, but your thoughts are anything but. you’re half-propped up against your pillows, legs tangled in the sheets, phone in hand, scrolling aimlessly but not seeing a thing.

so when it buzzes, sharp against your palm, you jump a little.

dr. sim (jake).

your thumb hovers over the screen for a second before answering. “hey,” you say, voice low.

there’s a pause on the other end, like he hadn’t expected you to pick up on the first ring. then – “hey,” he echoes, and it’s soft in that way he always gets after a long day. tired, but warm. roughened edges, but still reaching for you.

you smirk a little. “you’re not drunk again, are you?”

he huffs out a laugh, quiet. “no,” he says. “sober as hell. unfortunately.”

“that’s a shame,” you tease gently, shifting to lie more comfortably on your side. “you’re more honest when you’re drunk.”

“i’m honest now.”

there’s a weight to the words that catches you off guard. not defensive. just… sure.

you blink up at the ceiling. “so,” you say, tone lighter. “what’s up, dr. sim? nervous about tomorrow?”

jake sighs, and you can picture him – one hand cradling the phone, the other probably scrubbing at his face, hair all messed up from pacing. “a little. i keep thinking i’ve forgotten something important.”

“you haven’t,” you say, immediate and certain. “you’ve gone over your checklist at least twelve times. and i’ve checked it five times.”

there’s a pause on the other end of the line – not heavy, just quiet. comfortable, almost. you can hear jake shift, the creak of his office chair, the soft tap of his fingers against the desk. he doesn’t answer right away, and you don’t rush him. maybe because this call already feels like the kind of conversation that lives between words, in the hesitations and sidesteps and everything left unsaid.

you lie back against your pillows, the phone pressed to your ear, and exhale slowly. your room is dim now, lit only by the soft amber glow of your nightstand lamp. outside, the city hums low – a distant lullaby. inside, it’s quiet enough that you can hear jake breathing.

“i’m… glad you’re coming,” he says at last. his voice is softer now, closer to what it had been on that late-night phone call – the one you both haven’t mentioned again. like he’s not sure how loud to be with this kind of truth.

you smile at the ceiling. “i’m glad i said yes.”

another pause. then, a sound like him letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. you imagine him there, probably hunched over his desk, glasses slipping down his nose, a hundred crumpled notes and draft slides around him. maybe he's got one hand tangled in his hair.

“i keep thinking about tomorrow,” jake says, voice thoughtful now. “the conference. the presentation.”

“and you’re nervous?”

“terrified,” he says, then laughs quietly, like he’s only half-kidding.

you roll onto your side, tucking the blanket under your chin. “you’ll be brilliant,” you say simply. “you know that, right?”

there you go again, calling him brilliant. like it’s a fact, not a compliment. like you’ve already decided it to be true, the way some people decide the sky is blue or the earth is round. and jake’s quiet for a beat too long – not because he wants to disagree with you, but because you say it like you’ve always known it, and he’s still learning how to believe it.

“i want to be,” he admits, and then, more quietly: “especially with you there.”

it lands gently, but not softly. like a pebble dropped into still water – quiet at first, then rippling outward until it touches everything.

your heart stutters. not in panic. not even in surprise. just that soft jolt of hearing something you didn’t realize you were waiting for until it was spoken aloud.

“you know,” you murmur, “you’re not that terrible at this.”

“at what?” he asks, confused.

you smile. “saying how you feel.”

there’s a beat. then he says your name again – and it’s not slurred this time. it’s clear, careful. like he’s holding it with both hands.

it makes your heart stutter regardless and pull your sheets up to your chin as if it's a shield. you’re the one who fills the quiet this time.

“i’ve been looking forward to this trip,” you say, gently redirecting. “not just because of the conference. it feels like... i don’t know. something different.”

jake is quiet again, and you can hear the shift in his breath, the way he’s turning that over in his mind. you’re not sure if it’s too forward. not sure if you’ve said too much. but then he says:

“yeah. me too.”

the silence that follows isn’t awkward. it’s not even silence, really – not when you can hear the soft thrum of connection, not when his presence seems to stretch across the distance like a thread pulling taut.

eventually, you yawn – quietly, but not quietly enough.

“you should sleep,” he says. “it’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

“you should too.”

“i will,” jake replies. but he doesn’t hang up. and neither do you.

you don’t remember exactly when your eyes start to slip closed. only that the sound of his breathing is steady in your ear, grounding you. only that the weight of the day has finally settled, and for once, it doesn’t feel heavy.

you fall asleep before either of you says goodnight.

jake stays on the line a little longer. he doesn’t say anything. just listens.

and in the stillness of his house, alone but not really, he lets himself believe – just for tonight – that maybe this is how something real begins.

twenty-seven.

the morning air is brisk when you step onto the platform, suitcase rolling behind you, fingers still wrapped around a half-finished cup of coffee. the city is just beginning to wake – light bleeding across the buildings, wind curling through narrow lanes, carrying the scent of something warm and sweet from a nearby bakery.

the train is waiting, sleek and silver, idling on the tracks like a held breath. and just ahead, jake stands near the door, his duffel slung across his chest, one hand rubbing the back of his neck like he’s trying to ease out the tension.

you catch his eye. he smiles.

it’s a small thing. easy. but when he lifts a hand in that casual, awkward little wave, your heart flickers.

neither of you says it out loud – not anything about last night. about the late phone call, his voice soft and uncertain through the line. about the way your voice had gone quiet near the end, how the line had stilled with your breathing. the way he didn’t hang up until long after he should have.

you could bring it up.

but you don’t. he doesn’t either.

instead, he says, “hey,” and takes your suitcase from you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

you follow him up into the train carriage, your seat assignments side-by-side. the compartments are small but clean – sunlight streaming through the wide windows, scattering light across the glossy floors. the city slides further away behind you.

jake wrestles your suitcase into the overhead rack with an ease that makes your throat go a little dry – veins shifting under the skin on his arms, shirt stretching slightly at the shoulder. you look away too quickly, pretending to be busy with your sling-bag, cursing yourself silently.

he drops into the seat beside you, lets out a quiet sigh, and rakes a hand through his hair.

“barely slept,” he mutters. “you?”

you shrug, watching the early light catch on his lashes. “some.”

he doesn’t ask why. maybe he already knows.

the train jolts once, then starts to move. slowly at first, and then faster, the city blurring into color as you head toward the edge of everything familiar.

it’s calm. peaceful.

there’s a quiet thrill in your chest – part nerves, part anticipation. the kind you used to feel before field trips or final presentations or nights when something new was about to begin. and it is something new, even if neither of you will name it yet.

you sit shoulder to shoulder, brushing every time the train rocks too far. jake pulls out his tablet, starts scrolling through slides for the presentation you’ve both seen a hundred times. you try to focus on the scenery outside, but your eyes keep drifting.

his hair’s still a little messy from the wind. he’s mouthing something as he reads, tapping the edge of the screen absently. his thumb brushes yours once where your hands rest on the shared armrest, and you both freeze for a beat – but neither of you pulls away.

at some point, he glances over at you.

you’ve settled into your seat by the window, the early sun pooling in streaks across your jeans, your lashes catching light like threads of gold.

you’re dressed casually. comfortable. out of the formal setting the office follows, jake’s still trying to get used to this situation. just you and him together on a train to a different town. yes, it's for work, but maybe he’s hoping for more.

your lips – he notices them before he can stop himself – are glossed, faintly tinted, like it’s nothing at all. like it isn’t absolutely undoing him.

he looks away.

the edge of your knee knocks into his when the train shudders, and he pretends not to notice that either.

you say something about the schedule, about the route from the station to the hotel, maybe the session times – but he’s a beat behind, trying not to get caught in the curve of your mouth.

and then you smile. and god.

jake doesn’t even mean to look, not really, but it’s like gravity – like something in the way your lips curve, gloss catching the light just right, effortless and warm. it hits him all at once. too real. too much. you’re not even trying. you’re just smiling, bright-eyed and easy, saying something about something he’s not listening to, and he’s sitting there like an idiot, pulse thrumming in his ears, trying not to stare at your mouth like a man who’s never seen one before.

his brain short-circuits, rewinds, plays the scene again: the way your smile tugged slow at the corners, how it lingered like it had nowhere else to be. he swallows, shifts slightly in his seat, pretends to zone in on his tablet again. anything to pull his gaze away from your lips, from the subtle sheen still soft in the corner of your mouth.

and god help him, he’s not even thinking straight – just wondering, helplessly, what it might feel like if you smiled against his own lips like that.

and then, with a jolt, he realizes what he just thought.

his brain stutters – trips over itself like a record scratch mid-song – and something tightens, sharp and visceral, in the pit of his stomach. what the hell. he blinks, once, twice, and looks away fast, like that might undo it.

like the thought hadn’t just bloomed wild and uninvited in his chest. he’s not even sure where it came from. it’s not like you’re doing anything. just sitting there, chatting softly, your legs curled under you and your bag tucked by your feet. you’d smiled because you always do, easily, openly, like it costs you nothing, and jake had looked at you like he always does. or so he thought.

but this? this is new and entirely different and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

he tugs at the sleeves of his hoodie, runs a hand through his hair, shifts again in his seat like the discomfort is physical. like he can physically move away from what just flickered through his head. because it wasn’t just the thought of kissing you – it was the way he’d imagined it. the tenderness of it. the tilt of your smile, that faint press of gloss, the way he wanted to feel it up close, wanted to know what it would be like if you laughed into his mouth and leaned into him just a little. if you looked at him like that – but for real. for keeps.

and now he’s warm. too warm. like someone lit a match behind his ears and the heat is blooming down his neck, his spine, searing him with mortification. he should say something. should think of anything else. should not be sitting here next to you on a train, legs brushing and shoulders nearly touching, wishing he could rewind his entire brain five seconds and pretend he’s never had a single thought about your lips.

but you’re still talking – sweet and oblivious – and god, he doesn’t want to ruin this. doesn’t want to make it weird. doesn’t want you to look at him differently.

so he nods along. forces himself to breath, plasters on a smile he’s sure looks too polite and tries not to fidget.

tries not to imagine how your lip gloss might taste.

he keeps his gaze forward after that. keeps his thoughts leashed, jaw tight, expression neutral – like if he just focuses hard enough on the scenery blurring past the window, he can hold the chaos inside at bay. you’re still beside him, warm and so very real, occasionally pointing something out, occasionally laughing at something small. and jake tries. he really does. tries to engage. tries not to overthink the last five minutes of his own brain, of his own treasonous thoughts.

but it’s been a long week. and the train rocks in a rhythm that’s steady and slow, like a lullaby whispered against the tracks. the muffled announcements blur into the hum of passing fields and fading light. at some point, you shift beside him and your shoulder brushes his.

and he exhales. deep. shoulders loosening.

he doesn’t even mean to fall asleep.

but the next thing he knows, it’s your scent grounding him, something soft and familiar. the faintest citrus from your shampoo. the warmth of your coat where it folds against his side. the press of your shoulder, steady against his.

jake’s head dips without him realizing. and when it lands, gently, in the crook between your shoulder and neck, it feels – god, it feels safe. too safe.

you don’t flinch. you don’t move.

and that’s somehow worse.

because he should pull away. should apologize, should be mortified, should do something. but sleep is fogging him too fast, and your presence is too kind, and whatever tension was coiled tight in his spine begins to unravel like thread. his breath evens. his hand, which had been loosely curled in his lap, shifts and brushes against yours where it rests on the armrest – fingers just barely overlapping.

he doesn’t even know he smiles, faint and unconscious.

and you don’t say anything. don’t dare breathe too loud or move too fast. just sit there, spine stiffening for one startled beat before melting back into your seat, watching the reflection of the dusk-streaked window, pretending your heart isn’t skipping out of rhythm.

he’ll probably be embarrassed when he wakes.

but right now – right now, he’s at ease. so you let him rest. let your head lean slightly against his. let the silence stretch between you again, soft and tentative and sweet.

outside, the train barrels ahead. inside, you stay still, heart full of something fragile and unfolding.

when jake wakes, he’s disoriented for a moment. it’s already mid afternoon, which means he’s slept through most of the train ride. the sound of the train is quieter now, the hum of the wheels against the tracks more distant. he blinks rapidly, trying to shake off the grogginess, but it only takes him a split second to realize that his head is still resting on your shoulder. his breath hitches when his eyes flutter open, and for a fleeting moment, he’s caught between the warmth of your proximity and the awkward realization that he’s actually fallen asleep on you.

his pulse quickens. a heat spreads across his face. he lifts his head, moving slowly, careful not to disturb you. but the space feels different now – too intimate, too real. his hand jerks away from where it had been resting against your side, and he clears his throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

“sorry,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck in that way he does when he’s embarrassed. "i didn’t mean to – uh... fall asleep on you."

you glance at him, an almost imperceptible smile tugging at your lips, but you don’t tease him. you’re too gracious for that. instead, you just nod, offering a reassuring, quiet, “it’s fine, jake. you looked like you needed the rest.”

he opens his mouth to say something more, but his words get tangled in the quiet tension that fills the space between you. the train slows, its wheels grinding against the track as the station nears. he has the strangest sensation of wanting to stay here a little longer, in this bubble of peaceful, fragile calm, but the moment evaporates as the train announces its arrival.

you both stand up, moving toward the overhead compartment to grab your bags. as you reach for yours, jake is already there, just a step ahead of you, his hand on your suitcase handle. the gesture is familiar, routine even, but there’s a tension now in the way his fingers brush yours.

“let me grab that for you,” he says, his voice a little too loud in the otherwise quiet train car, almost like he’s overcompensating.

he pulls your bag from the compartment, and the moment his hand closes around the handle, the weight of it shifts awkwardly. his body leans forward slightly, just enough to knock into you. in the same instant, you take a half-step backward, trying to avoid the sudden closeness, but your foot catches on the edge of the seat. the stumble is subtle, a brief moment of instability, but enough for you to lose your balance.

your heart skips a beat as you begin to pitch forward. and then, in one fluid motion, jake’s hand is there, steadying you. his fingers press firmly against your elbow, his body coming up close behind you, his chest brushing against your back in a way that’s entirely accidental but still undeniably there. his breath catches as he steadies you, the proximity more than either of you had bargained for.

“gotcha,” he mutters, his voice low and close to your ear. you feel it in the curve of your spine.

his touch is warm, firm, but not too forceful. just the right amount of pressure to help you regain your balance. and for a brief, dizzying moment, you’re so close you can feel the heat of his breath against your cheek, the sharpness of his gaze as he looks down at you, his face inches from yours. the sudden proximity sends a jolt of electricity through your veins, a shock of awareness you didn’t expect.

“careful,” he says this time, his voice low, almost apologetic, like he didn’t mean to crowd you so much.

you nod, but your heartbeat is too loud, too fast, to say anything more. he’s still holding you by the arm, steadying you, even though you don’t need it anymore. you’re both standing there, the space between you narrowing, the air thick with something unspoken.

“thanks,” you manage, still caught in the closeness, the lingering heat of his hand on your skin.

he nods once, clearing his throat. “yeah, no problem.”

but then, with an awkward shift, he lets go, and the brief tension between you both snaps. he moves to grab your bag from the overhead compartment before you can, his movements slightly more rushed now. he hands it to you, but his fingers brush against yours for a split second, and just like that, the moment fades.

the shuffle of your feet, the awkward adjustment of your bags – it’s all a blur now, overshadowed by the weight of what just happened. you take a steadying breath, trying to find some kind of grounding.

but even as you both shift away from each other, the subtle jolt of awareness remains. jake clears his throat, ruffling his hair, his face flushed just a shade darker than usual, but he doesn’t say anything.

his gaze catches yours for a brief, unsure moment, and then it’s gone, replaced by the busyness of the crowd, the noise of the station pulling you back to the present.

as you step off the train and into the bustle of the station, the world feels suddenly too wide, too full of distractions, and the brief, charged silence between you becomes something heavier. neither of you speaks of it, but you both carry it with you, in the space between your steps, in the quiet of your shared glances.

twenty-eight.

the knock on your door comes soft but persistent, enough to draw you from the low hum of your thoughts.

the ride to the hotel had been a breeze, facilitated by someone who had come from the organising committee for the conference to pick you up. settling into your own separate rooms had also been a smooth process, everything according to the itinerary. by the time all of this had been done, you and jake had both bid each other goodbye and you, for the most part, had slept off the fatigue from the train ride the entire evening.

you had awoken, still dazed and comfortable in a way you would only feel when your back sinks into plush hotel bedding after a long journey and decided to shower.

by the time you’re done, you glance at the clock on the wall, surprised to see how late it’s gotten. it’s a strange sort of quiet in the hotel now. it’s just you, alone in your room, and the sound of a knock you didn’t expect.

you walk to the door with damp hair, the strands clinging to your skin from the shower. the loose tee you threw on after drying off is soft, hanging just right, too relaxed, and you pull at the fabric near your collarbone – letting it slip off just a little more to dry off the dampness still clinging to your skin there.

when you open the door, there’s jake, standing in the hallway with his usual composed but slightly frazzled expression, holding a few pages of notes. his eyes catch yours for a fraction of a second before he’s looking away, clearing his throat.

“hey,” he says, his voice rougher than usual, as if he’s trying to swallow back something he can’t quite manage. “you, uh, got a minute? i... was hoping you could help me with these notes.”

you raise an eyebrow, surprised at the request. you might be imagining it, but he looks… off. he’s standing a little too close, his body stiff, like he’s trying to keep himself in check.

“sure,” you say, a little too easily, but you can’t help it. he’s asking, and there’s no way you can say no.

you open the door wider, motioning for him to come in. he hesitates for a split second, before stepping inside, his gaze flicking back to you, noticing how your damp hair frames your face, how the loose tee clings to your skin just enough to make him forget his next words. the very casualness of it all hits him like a ton of bricks. the way you stand there, completely unaware of the effect you’re having on him.

he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, clearing his throat again. “i… uh, i can’t focus. so i figured… maybe i could go over it with you? it’s… easier with someone else around.”

you nod, catching the hesitancy in his words. it’s odd seeing him like this, so out of his usual element. you try to make the air feel more natural, gesturing to the desk where he can lay his notes out. “of course,” you say, giving him a reassuring smile.

you leave him to it for a moment, moving to adjust your shirt, pulling the hem up as it slides off your shoulder. it’s a subtle motion, but one that catches jake’s attention more than it should. his eyes flicker back to you, a fleeting moment of something in his gaze that lingers just a moment too long.

you sit down at the desk beside him, trying to focus on the papers, but the quiet weight of the moment is almost too much. he’s sitting there, hunched over his notes, totally absorbed, but there’s something about the way he’s so intent on them that makes you watch him a little longer. he’s so focused, so professional when he wants to be, but there’s a quiet vulnerability in the way he rubs his temples or adjusts his glasses for the hundredth time tonight.

your gaze flickers from the papers to him, the curve of his jaw, the slight furrow between his brows. you admire how committed he is to getting everything right. how he cares. it’s endearing, but it’s also… distracting.

you let the silence stretch between you, but it’s comfortable now. you start going over the notes, pointing out a few things here and there. the awkwardness is fading slowly, replaced by that quiet focus that comes when two people are in sync with each other, working on something, something small and simple. but still, even as you’re so close, the tension hovers just beneath the surface.

after a while, you glance at the clock. the night is getting late, and you can sense jake’s exhaustion. you feel it in the way he rubs his eyes, the quiet, constant shift of his weight. he’s ready for a break. and neither of you have had any dinner.

you pause, leaning back in your chair, and it’s then that you get the sudden urge to change the pace, to break away from the work. you stand up, stretching a little. “you know, we’ve been at this for a while. how about we get some dinner?”

jake looks up, clearly surprised. “dinner?” jake had, evidently, forgotten about dinner altogether.

you grab your phone and glance toward the door. “maybe we can find something downstairs? i think the hotel has a restaurant that's open late.”

jake blinks, like the concept of dinner is just now dawning on him, and the corners of his mouth tug up in a sheepish smile. “right. food. yeah, that sounds good.”

there’s something boyish about the way he says it, like he’s a little embarrassed to have gotten so wrapped up in his work that he forgot the basics. it makes your chest tighten strangely, fondness blooming in a place you didn’t even realize was hollow.

jake pushes back his chair and stands too, running a hand through his already-messy hair. he looks so casual like this – hoodie sleeves pushed up, his glasses sliding a little down his nose, the tired, endearing kind of handsome that makes your heart stutter without permission.

you slip your phone into your pocket and glance toward the door. “come on, professor. before you starve to death.”

jake huffs a soft laugh, following after you.

the hotel lobby is quiet when you both step into it. most guests have retired to their rooms, and the overhead lights are dimmed to a softer glow. in the distance, past the marble floors and the polished front desk, you spot the hotel's late-night café tucked into a corner – still open, a few stragglers nursing drinks and quiet conversation. a handful of patio doors are propped open beyond it, leading out into a small private garden bathed in warm outdoor lights.

you exchange a look with jake, silent agreement passing between you without a word. the air outside would do you both good.

as you step into the garden, the evening air rushes against your skin, cool enough to raise goosebumps. instinctively, you rub your arms, tugging at the sleeves of the oversized hoodie you had thrown over your head earlier.

jake notices instantly. “here.” without thinking, he tugs the zipper of your hoodie up for you, his knuckles brushing your collarbone in the process. his touch is featherlight but scorching somehow, setting off a tremor of awareness that zips straight down your spine.

you glance up at him, startled by the proximity, but jake just ducks his head, pretending like zipping you up wasn’t the most intimate thing he’s done all night. pretending like this wasn’t the most out of world thing he had ever done in his whole existence. like you weren’t entirely capable of zipping up your own goddamn hoodie like the adult you were.

fortunately, you choose not to say anything, instead letting a quiet thanks fall off your lips before almost stumbling to grab a seat. jake tries not to combust, sliding into the seat across from you, still fidgeting slightly, like he hasn’t quite shaken off the feeling of your skin under his fingers.

he rubs the back of his neck, awkward in a way that makes your chest ache, and squints at the menu like it’s in a language he doesn’t speak.

“you picking something?” you tease lightly, trying to lift the tension sitting between you like mist.

jake hums, noncommittal, still pretending to study the menu even though you both know he’s not reading a word of it.

you grin and close your own menu with a soft thud. “i’ll just get whatever you get,” you say, leaning back in your chair.

jake finally looks up at that, startled, like he wasn’t expecting you to make it so easy for him. his lips twitch in a half-smile.

“careful,” he says, voice low and teasing. “i’m not known for making the best food choices under pressure.”

you laugh, and the sound feels like it cracks something open between you. you don't look away from him when you say, “i’ll take my chances.”

jake stares at you a second too long. you see the moment he forgets to breathe – the tiny catch in his chest – before he blinks hard and waves down the server like his life depends on it.

he orders something simple. grilled sandwiches and soup. comfort food. easy. safe. but none of this feels particularly safe at all, not when his knee keeps brushing yours under the table, not when he’s looking at you like he wants to say something but keeps swallowing the words back.

when the food comes, neither of you speaks. you can sense that he is brooding over something, most likely his own notes floating around in his mind, so you don’t push. you want to say something, but for a while, you focus on the sandwiches in front of you.

jake’s hair is even messier now from the way he keeps raking his hand through it, and you realize it’s a nervous habit. one he probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing.

jake tears little pieces off his sandwich without eating them, his hands restless on the table. you sip your water, watching him, letting the silence stretch a little – not awkward, just… tentative. like standing at the edge of something and wondering if it's safe to step forward.

“were you always like this?” you ask lightly, resting your chin in your palm.

he looks up, startled.  “like what?” he says, a little wary, a little amused.

you shrug, smiling. “you know. quiet. careful. the kind of person who pretends he's not nervous even when he obviously is.”

jake lets out a breathy laugh, scrubbing his hand through his hair again. his glasses nearly topple off his nose.

“wow, thanks,” he says dryly, but he’s smiling, too, a little shy. “you make it sound so charming.”

“it is charming,” you say, softer than you mean to.

jake’s eyes flick up to yours, something flickering there, something sharp and searching. he shifts a little in his seat, like he’s suddenly too big for it.

“for the record,” he says after a pause, “i wasn’t always like this.”

you tilt your head, curious. “no?”

jake shrugs, a quick, jerky motion. “i think… i think i just got used to not expecting much. from people.”

he says it lightly like a joke, like a throwaway comment, but there’s something underneath, brittle and tired. you don’t call it out. you just let it sit there between you, a quiet offering.

jake fidgets with the edge of his napkin, folding and unfolding it. his voice is careful when he adds, “sometimes it’s easier to… not count on anyone, you know?”

you nod slowly, heart aching a little.  “yeah,” you say. “i know.”

jake glances at you, quick and searching again, like he didn’t expect you to understand so easily. like he’s not used to being met halfway.

the night hums quietly around you;  the low chatter of other tables, the clink of cutlery, the warm summer air pressing soft against your skin.you want to reach across the table. take his hand. something. anything. but you stay still. you let him keep this moment under his own control.

and jake –he doesn’t know what to say anymore. the very fact that this is the kind of thing that he has never experienced, the way he has never even hinted at anything in his personal life to a stranger, not even his colleagues and he’s here right now, mind churning at the way it wants to spit out all the words stuck in his throat but he doesn’t know how to.

he’s never talked about it before. not like this. not without feeling the need to make a joke of it, to lace it all up in irony and pretend he doesn’t care.

but now you're just looking at him. not flinching. not pushing. not asking for more than he’s ready to give. just sitting there like you're willing to catch whatever he drops without expecting him to be more, or better, or whole.

and something tight and small and stubborn in him – just gives in. like a dam cracking, not breaking, but loosening under the weight of being seen. of being understood. maybe for the first time in longer than he wants to admit.

he glances up, catching your eyes across the table, the way you're holding still like you know he's scared and you're not trying to scare him more.

and jake thinks, wildly, stupidly, i don't know why i'm telling you this. i just... am.

like it's the most natural thing in the world. like trusting you is something his heart decided for him before his head could catch up.

he doesn't quite know why, but he feels lighter. a little bit freer.

the silence stretches between you, but it’s not heavy now. it’s not thick with the unspoken things he wants to hide. it’s… okay.

when you finally speak again, it’s a soft smile in your voice.

“but… i think some people are worth the risk. not everyone leaves. some people stay. even when it’s easier not to.”

jake blinks, the words catching him off guard. he didn’t expect that, and for a moment, his throat tightens again. he feels vulnerable but for some reason, this feels safe. and so, so unfamiliar.

“yeah, well... i don’t usually talk about this stuff,” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. his voice is quieter now, like a breath let out after holding it in too long. “i guess i just... i don't know. i’m not sure why, but...”

you let him trail off, and after a moment, you both start to stand. the air between you has shifted – subtle, but there. he’s not entirely sure where it’s going, but he's not quite as terrified as he was walking in.

he’s surprised by how easy it feels to fall into step beside you as you head back towards the lobby, the silence now comfortable in a way that wasn’t there when you first sat down. somehow your steps naturally find themselves taking the path to the garden out front.

the night air is cool, the garden lit only by soft, ambient lights. the space feels serene, the quiet hum of the night wrapping around you both. the path stretches ahead, bordered by low hedges and the occasional bench, the moonlight casting long shadows across the ground.

you walk side by side for a while, neither of you saying much. the peacefulness of the moment settles in, and even though you can’t help but feel the weight of the closeness between you, the silence feels… comfortable.

jake’s hands are shoved into his pockets, his shoulders tense as if he’s not sure what to do with himself. his steps slow a little, his thoughts racing in that familiar pattern of self-doubt, the kind of cycle he’s lived with for years. he’s so used to keeping everything in, staying controlled, staying guarded. so used to avoiding this kind of space, this kind of proximity where someone else could see him, could... feel him.

but walking beside you now, there’s something different. his mind drifts to that conversation earlier – how easy it was to let the words slip out. maybe it was the setting. maybe it was you. he doesn’t know. but there’s a softness to the way you’re letting him be, letting him exist without the usual weight of expectations, and it’s throwing him off in the best way possible.

the light breeze brushes against your skin, and you pull your jacket tighter around yourself. jake notices, the faintest flicker of concern in his chest. he’d noticed how the night air had started to chill, but he hadn’t said anything, too wrapped up in his own thoughts. it’s an automatic response when you see someone close to you even the slightest bit uncomfortable, and without thinking, the words tumble out of his mouth – 

“are you cold?” jake asks, his voice low, almost as if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. he feels a slight awkwardness rise in his chest, but the concern outweighs it.

you glance at him, a little surprised by the question, but you shake your head, offering a small smile. “i’m okay. just a little chill, nothing to worry about.”

jake doesn’t quite believe you, but he doesn’t press. he’s learned over the years that pushing people to open up rarely works. but there’s something in the way you’ve stayed close without saying much that makes him feel… seen. he’s used to being the one who keeps things in check, the one who doesn’t allow too much to slip through. but with you, it feels different. he wants to give, to open up, but he’s not sure where the line is anymore.

you glance over at him, watching the way the moonlight highlights the sharp angles of his jaw, the subtle flex of his shoulders under his shirt, the way his breath comes out in quiet puffs in the cold air. your heart stirs at the sight, the thought creeping in again – the one that makes you wonder just how close you’re really willing to let yourself get to him.

his head shifts slightly, and suddenly his eyes lock with yours. it’s just a brief moment. but there’s something different in his gaze now, a flicker of heat there that wasn’t there before. and you feel it too, the way your pulse stutters, the way your body reacts to his proximity. it’s no longer just the quiet intimacy of the walk; it’s something more, something charged.

“do you want to sit for a while?” you ask, your voice quieter than before, trying to break the spell that’s settled between you both. there’s a small bench nearby, nestled against the edge of the path, half-hidden by a low shrub. it’s an excuse – something to keep the momentum of the night going without having to say too much.

he nods, his expression unreadable, but his eyes never leave yours as he follows you to the bench. he sits first, and you take a seat beside him, close but not touching. the air between you feels thick, but you’re both pretending it’s not, for now. you fold your hands in your lap, looking out over the garden, but every inch of your skin is aware of the space between you.

jake shifts slightly, and suddenly, his leg brushes against yours. the contact is so accidental, so brief, that you almost think it’s your imagination. but then, it happens again – his thigh grazing yours just enough that you can’t ignore it.

your breath hitches, and you try to brush it off, pretend it didn’t affect you the way it did. but you can feel the heat from his body now, the warmth of his side, the steady thrum of his presence next to you. your fingers itch to reach out, just to feel him. but you don’t. you can’t.

“sorry,” jake murmurs, his voice soft, almost embarrassed, as if he’s the one feeling the tension. he pulls his leg back just a little too quickly, the motion awkward, and you catch the way his eyes flick down to your hands before meeting your gaze again.

you shake your head quickly, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “it’s fine,” you say. the words feel like a safe way to keep the conversation light, to mask the strange fluttering in your chest.

but it’s not fine, is it? not really. the small brush of his leg against yours has set off something you weren’t prepared for. a pulse of heat running straight through your veins, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. it’s impossible to ignore now. the attraction, the way your body reacts to his presence, the way his proximity makes your heart race in a way it shouldn’t.

jake doesn’t seem to know what to say after that, his eyes flicking everywhere except to you. it’s almost like he’s trying to distance himself, trying to regain control of the situation, but you both know it’s not going to work. not now.

you look up at the sky, trying to clear the thoughts in your mind, but it’s hard when you feel his gaze still lingering on you, even from the corner of your vision. he’s just there, so close, the air between you thick and heady. every breath you take feels like it’s somehow shared with him.

and then, in a moment that feels like it’s been drawn out for far too long, you feel him shift again. this time, his hand brushes against your fingers, his touch fleeting but deliberate, like it’s a test – a question without words.

your heart skips a beat, and you don’t pull away. you can’t. instead, you let your fingers linger just a moment longer, your pulse quickening as his hand hovers near yours, unsure whether to close the distance.

and then, without thinking, you let your hand slip just a little closer to his, your fingertips brushing against his palm. the touch is brief, but it feels like a spark. and for the first time tonight, you’re not sure who made the first move.

jake’s breath catches, and for a split second, everything goes still. the world, the garden, the night, all fade away until it’s just you and him and the pulse of something between you. it’s a breath away from something more, and you can feel the shift, the weight of the moment settling around you both.

the moment hangs in the air, thick and heavy with possibility. you can almost taste it, the way your heart races, the way your body hums, the way his body leans just a little closer, the barest shift in his posture that tells you he’s feeling it too.

and then, very selfishly, you both hope that the night doesn’t end.

twenty-nine.

somewhere between the chaos of the morning and the remnants of last night’s unspoken almost, you find it impossible to actually have a conversation with jake.

you had woken up in your room, tangled under your sheets in a comfortable daze. and the second your eyes had opened and brain started to function, you had thought of last night. the soft touches, the lingering gaze and well, everything else you couldn’t possibly put into words.

you had gotten ready with a smile on your face, looking forward to grabbing breakfast with jake, checking your reflection twice in the mirror before bounding off to his room and knocking. surprisingly, there’s no response.

that’s weird, you think, checking your phone to see if there’s a message from jake himself but there’s nothing. and you know the conference starts in about three hours, so there’s no way he’s still asleep.

so you head downstairs instead, the quiet thrum of anticipation already thick in the air. the breakfast hall is lively, a low buzz of conversation floating over clinking plates and coffee machines sputtering out cappuccinos. your eyes sweep over the room once and then pause.

there he is.

jake’s seated at one of the round tables near the window, surrounded by a few other presenters you vaguely recognize from the program brochure. he’s leaning slightly forward, listening intently to someone speak, his brow furrowed in that way he does when he’s trying not to interrupt. he’s got a black pen in hand and is absently tapping it against the rim of his coffee cup, nodding slowly at something being said. professional, composed, quietly magnetic in the way he always is when he forgets anyone’s watching.

except, he catches you. his eyes lift, and the moment they meet yours across the hall, his expression softens. it’s small, barely there, but unmistakable: a smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth like he’s been waiting to see you.

your heart stutters.

still, you don’t go over. you just offer a little wave, trying not to look too obviously giddy as you grab a plate and move toward a quiet corner table. you don’t want to interrupt. he looks like he’s mid-conversation, and besides, it’s fine. you just thought…well, you thought maybe you’d have breakfast together.

you’re halfway through buttering a piece of toast when a familiar voice speaks beside you.

“hey,” jake says, placing a fresh cup of coffee next to your plate before he sets his own down and sinks into the seat across from you. “i’m sorry. got roped into an early breakfast by the committee folks.”

you blink, startled, and then glance at the cup.

“no, it’s okay,” you say, a little breathless, trying not to let how relieved you feel show too much. “really. it’s fine.”

but then you look up, and he’s already watching you. his hair is perfectly in place, his suit crisp, and his tie knotted with the kind of precision that suggests he’s been up and ready for a while now. there's not a wrinkle on him, not a single sign of hesitation. he looks calm, professional, every bit the man about to speak in front of a room full of scholars. and yet, when he smiles at you – soft and a little shy around the edges – it’s not polished at all. it’s just jake.

you catch the way his gaze lingers on you too. the way his eyes flicker briefly to your lips, the faint shine of your gloss catching the light. your hair’s loose, falling around your shoulders in a way he’s come to realise he likes too much. he takes all of you in with that one quiet look, and somehow, your heart forgets how to beat properly for a moment.

and he’s trying not to stare. he really is. but your lips keep catching the light, and your skin glows in the soft morning hue, and he’s suddenly forgetting the names of the other people he’d just been talking to. you look so good it almost hurts to look at you directly. polished, but still you. familiar, but somehow brand new under this hotel lighting and soft linen air.

he wonders if you know what you’re doing to him just by being here, just by smiling that gentle smile and meeting his eyes like you’ve already forgiven him for missing breakfast. he wants to say something else – anything, really – but it all knots in his throat

he takes a sip of his coffee, eyes flicking down to the rim of his cup before lifting again to you, softer now. “i wanted to grab breakfast with you,” he says, voice quieter this time, just between the two of you. “sorry.” he adds, like a quiet confession. like one missed breakfast with you was the end of the world.

you shake your head quickly. “no, really, it’s fine. you look like you’ve had a whole day already.”

he laughs, short and dry. “feels like it.” then, his gaze lingers on you again, this time more intentional. like he wants to say something but isn’t sure how.

he sets his cup down, fingers tracing the sleeve absently before he finally asks, “will you meet me in an hour? my room. i’ll be finishing up some prep, but… i just. i’d like to see you before it all starts.”

your breath stills at his words – not from surprise exactly, but from the sheer gentleness of them. there’s something tentative in the way he says it, like he’s not asking for much, like he doesn’t know he already has your full attention, your full heart, maybe.

you nod, eyes meeting his. “yeah,” you say, and it comes out steadier than you expect. “i’ll be there.”

his shoulders relax a little, the tiniest bit of tension unspooling from him. he leans back in his chair like he’s allowing himself to exhale. “good,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

you glance at the time, realizing the hour will pass quicker than either of you would like, but right now, he’s here and you don’t want to ruin the moment by rushing.

still, he checks his watch, reluctantly rising from the table with an apologetic tilt to his head. “i should go,” he says. “there’s one last meeting with the panel before we start.”

you try not to look too disappointed. “okay. i’ll see you soon, then.”

he hesitates, like he wants to say more, maybe even reach out but instead, he just smiles. that shy, uneven curve of his lips you’ve come to memorize. “see you soon,” he echoes.

and then he’s walking away, coffee cup still in hand, hair slightly tousled despite the perfection of his suit.

you don’t move for a while after he leaves.

the breakfast hall swells around you again – cutlery clinking, chairs scraping, small conversations humming from every table – but you sit there quietly, hands wrapped around your coffee cup like it’s the only anchor you’ve got. your heart feels oddly light and heavy at the same time, like someone’s gone and opened the blinds in your chest but forgotten to take the weight off your ribs.

you drink the rest of your coffee slowly, eyes drifting to the exit he disappeared through.

you rise from your seat eventually, plate barely touched, and head back to your room to freshen up. you try not to stare at your reflection too long, but your fingers still linger a moment too long near your lip gloss. you reapply it without thinking.

when the clock nears the hour mark, your nerves start to hum. not quite nerves, actually. something softer and  hopeful, stupidly so.

his room is warm with morning light when you knock softly, fingers curling at your side as you wait. jake opens the door almost immediately, like he’d been pacing by it, waiting for you. somehow, in that one hour timeline, he had managed to lose his blazer, which lay slung over the back of a chair. his sleeves were rolled up and his tie... half-done, hanging crookedly around his neck.

you step inside, careful and quiet, like the walls might echo with whatever's built up between you two. but jake’s eyes soften the second they meet yours, and somehow, the nerves fade just a little.

“hey,” he says, voice a little rough around the edges. like maybe he hasn’t spoken much this morning, or maybe he’s just been thinking too hard. you understand the feeling.

“hey,” you echo, eyes scanning over him without meaning to. his hair is slightly tousled in a way that’s almost unfair. he’s always been handsome, but right now, with the daylight pooling through the curtains and his shirt sleeves rolled up, he looks like something out of a dream you never quite let yourself have.

you reach up before you can think better of it, fingers brushing a lock of hair back into place. he freezes, ever so slightly, as your touch lingers.

“i—” you start, faltering for half a second. “you had a bit sticking up.”

jake smiles then. slow, soft. “thanks.”

you don’t pull your hand away immediately. it’s a tiny thing, fixing his hair. but for you, it’s a step. a quiet way of saying i’m still here.

you watch as jake adjusts the cuff of his sleeve, his movements slightly more rushed now that the conference is looming just ahead. you can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw tightens every now and then, like he's trying to prepare himself for something bigger than he’s willing to admit.

you’re standing by the dresser, fumbling with the hem of your blouse. your fingers feel suddenly unsteady, and you almost want to laugh at yourself. you’d spent all night thinking about this moment, but now that it’s here, now that you’re in his room, with him so close, you’re not sure what to do with yourself.

jake catches your gaze in the mirror, and there’s a softness to his look that makes your heart skip. almost instinctively, you find yourself standing behind him, your hands hovering near his tie.

"can i?" you ask, your voice quieter than usual, unsure if you should make the first move. you’re hesitant but steady in a way that surprises you. his eyes meet yours through the mirror, and you see something soft, something genuine.

he nods, just a small movement, and he’s turning to you fully then, letting you adjust his tie. the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers sends a shiver up your spine, but you keep your focus, trying to make the moment last just a little longer.

you smooth the fabric with gentle hands, and as you do, his breath hitches ever so slightly, his eyes darting away from yours for a second before meeting your gaze again.

you brush another stray strand of hair from his forehead, your fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. his gaze is fixed on you now, but you can’t quite read it. it’s too much, too intense, and for a moment, you’re afraid you might lose control of the situation altogether.

you swallow, nerves suddenly tight in your chest. "you’re going to do great," you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them. it’s meant to comfort him, to steady him, but when your eyes catch his, you realize it means something else. you want him to know you’re here, that you’re not going anywhere. not after last night. not after everything. you’re here, and you mean it.

jake’s fingers twitch, almost imperceptibly, like he’s about to reach for something. his hand hovers over the breast pocket of his suit jacket, the one where he’s kept the note you had left him all those nights ago. the one that’s tucked safely away in the folds of his suit, hidden but there, as much a part of him now as anything else.

"here," you say, breaking the silence. you pull something small from your pocket, your fingers trembling slightly as you hand it to him. "i thought you might like these."

he looks at the tiny box, his brows furrowing in curiosity. when he opens it, his eyes widen in surprise. a pair of star-shaped cufflinks, delicate and elegant, their silver studded surface catching the light just right. you watch as his fingers hover over them, his touch reverent.

jake’s eyes stay fixed on the cufflinks for a long moment, as if trying to make sense of the unexpected gift. his breath catches slightly, a barely-there exhale, before he lifts his gaze back to you, an unspoken question in the air between you two.

“they’re... perfect,” he says softly, like he’s not sure how to react to something so personal. his fingers brush over the silver stars again, their sharp points reflecting the light in the room, their smallness somehow giving them a sense of significance.

you swallow, unsure what to say. a thousand thoughts are racing through your mind. you had picked them out because they reminded you of him, of his quiet brilliance and the way he always seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, even when he tried not to. but now, you’re not sure if they’re too much, if they’re too... intimate.

"i just... thought you'd like something to remind you of today," you say, your voice softer than you expect, as if your words are a little too fragile for this moment. "something small, but... something that means something."

“thank you,” he says, his voice low, and for the first time today, he sounds genuinely moved, like he’s struggling to find the words.

you nod, heart fluttering in your chest. “you’re welcome,” you whisper, suddenly shy under the weight of his gaze.

jake hesitates, his hand still hovering near the cufflinks as if he’s not sure what to do with them. then, as if he’s made a decision, he looks up at you again. his eyes, usually so sure and measured, hold something different now – a softness, a flicker of uncertainty that makes your heart skip.

“would you... would you mind helping me put them on?” he asks, his voice still low, but there’s something new in it. a quiet, unspoken request, as if asking for more than just the simple act of fastening the cufflinks. his fingers twitch at his side, itching to do something but uncertain what that something is.

you hesitate for a moment, your pulse quickening, but you don’t say no. instead, you step forward, your hand reaching out to take the cufflink from him. your fingers brush against his palm as you do, and for a split second, the connection between you two feels electric, as if the room itself is holding its breath. it’s simple, just a touch, but it sends a rush of warmth through you. the moment feels charged in a way that makes your chest tighten.

when you finish with the cufflink, you pause for a beat, not ready to pull away just yet. the space between you feels charged with something more than just the act of fastening a cufflink. your heart beats faster, thudding against your ribs as you find yourself wanting to say something else, to tell him how much this all means. how much he means.

but before you can find the words, jake breaks the silence, his voice low and unexpectedly raw. “thank you,” he says again, his eyes soft, lingering on you. and in that moment, you feel like the words are carrying more weight than they ever have before.

you nod, offering a small smile, but the air between you two feels heavier now, filled with unspoken things. you take a step back, but just as you do, jake’s hand gently catches yours. it’s the smallest touch, but it sends a rush of warmth through your entire body, and you freeze for a moment, unsure of how to respond.

his fingers curl around yours, a subtle yet deliberate move, and your breath catches in your throat.

“you’re here, right?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. the question is simple, but the way he asks it, the way his eyes search yours – it feels like more than just a reassurance. it feels like a question that’s been lingering in his mind for a long time, a question that has no easy answer, but one that he needs to hear.

you squeeze his hand gently, your heart pounding. “i’m here,” you say, your voice steady, but the weight of the words hits you in ways you hadn’t expected. it’s true, isn’t it? you are here. you are staying.

jake exhales softly, his grip on your hand tightening just slightly. “i don’t want to do this without you,” he admits, the words raw and vulnerable, like he’s finally letting the guard he’s kept up for so long slip away. it’s the kind of honesty that takes you by surprise, leaving you breathless in its wake.

you meet his eyes, and for a moment, you both just stand there, silent and connected in a way that feels more real than anything else. and as much as you want to say more, you find that there’s no need. not right now.

instead, you simply nod, your heart swelling in your chest. “you don’t have to,” you whisper back. “i’ll be right here.”

“i should go,” he says, glancing at the time. “they want us mic’d up in twenty minutes.”

you nod, stepping aside as he gathers the rest of his things. and then he’s gone.

you’re left in the quiet hum of the room, heart still skipping beats like it can’t decide whether to calm down or keep spiraling. you glance at your watch, and for once, you wish time would speed up – because something about today feels different. like maybe it’s not just about the work anymore. maybe it never really was.

you smooth your blouse, take a breath, and leave.

you’ll see him again in the next room. and this time, you’ll see him in all his glory.

thirty.

the room is full of people, the buzz of conversation giving way to the soft hum of anticipation. jake stands at the front, a calm presence amid the sea of experts, each of them waiting for the presentation to begin. his fingers tap lightly against the podium, a quiet rhythm that betrays the nerves he’s trying so hard to hide.

you sit at the edge of the room, watching him with a sense of pride swelling in your chest. the way his eyes scan the crowd, his posture straightening as he takes in the energy of the room – there’s something undeniably magnetic about him in this moment. you know he’s capable of handling all the eyes on him, but there’s still a flutter of uncertainty in the way he checks the slides one last time before diving in.

you shift in your seat, trying to calm your nerves, even though they’ve been buzzing ever since you walked in. the truth is, you don’t understand much of what’s about to happen. the intricate details of his research, the equations, the complex ideas – it’s all a little above your head. but that doesn’t matter. you helped him prepare for this. you helped him build this presentation, slide by slide, even if you’re not entirely sure what half of it means.

the first slide appears on the screen, a complicated diagram that you recognize as something you stared at together late into the night. your lips move along with the words, mouthing the explanations you helped him write, even though you don’t fully grasp the details yourself. 

every pause he takes, every slide change, you’re there. mouthed words, shared memories of long nights at the office, every moment of helping him make sense of something that was so far out of your league. it’s all here, woven into this quiet, unspoken bond.

jake’s voice fills the room, steady and confident now, his presentation flowing seamlessly. you can tell he’s found his rhythm, the nervousness fading away as he gets lost in the data and the patterns he knows so well. his eyes shine as he speaks, the passion for his work clear in every word. and even though you still don’t understand most of it, you find yourself captivated by the way he’s able to make something so complex feel so easy.

at one point, you catch his gaze again, just for a second. there’s a flicker of recognition there, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corner of his lips as if he’s acknowledging that you’re there, that you’re with him through all of this. it’s quiet, but it’s enough. enough to remind you that even if you don’t understand everything about his work, you understand him. and right now, that feels like more than enough.

the presentation continues, and the room is hanging on his every word, but all you can think about is how he looks so different up there; so confident, at ease, alive in a way that you didn’t always see. you find yourself smiling quietly, mouthing along with him once more as he slides into the final portion of his talk, the culmination of everything he’s worked so hard for.

and when the presentation finally wraps up, you can’t help but feel a rush of pride. jake stands at the front, looking over the audience, his posture taller than it was when he first walked in. the applause that follows is warm and genuine, and you’re right there in the back, clapping along with everyone else. he turns his head for a split second, catching your eye, and you can’t help but smile wider, mouthing a simple “you did great.”

he nods, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer, before he steps down from the podium to join the group, but that connection remains. he did it. and you were right there, every step of the way.

by the time the conference has wrapped up, and the buzz of conversations fills the air. you linger in the back of the room for a moment, feeling the weight of everything. jake’s presentation was flawless – and you’re not the only one who thinks that. 

the conversations around you are filled with praise, business card exchanges, and eager discussions about future collaborations. you watch as he’s swept into another conversation with a group of senior researchers, his bright smile and quick wit doing the heavy lifting, while you stand at the edges of it all, feeling a strange sense of distance.

the post-event dinner and networking session is the final hurdle. it’s all very professional, very academic. no glitzy gowns or champagne toasts. just a buffet of finger foods, awkward mingling, and endless conversations about research, funding, and collaborations. there’s an undercurrent of tension too, though – academic egos, the unspoken need to impress, to position yourself in the right way. it all feels too much, and yet you can’t escape it.

you glance around again. jake is still deep in conversation, his face animated as he talks with a group of prominent researchers. you can’t help but feel a twinge of something – pride, maybe, but also a little loneliness. for all the people surrounding him, there’s still something about watching him from the sidelines that makes your chest tighten. you want to be part of the conversation. you want to speak with him. but you know that won’t happen until he’s finished being the center of attention.

a soft sigh escapes your lips, barely audible, but enough to remind you how weary you feel. you shift your weight from one foot to the other, feeling the slight discomfort of standing for too long, and the buzzing in your head grows louder. you scan the room, searching for a reason to get involved again. the conversation around you is all the same – research talk, industry lingo, polite but distant. it’s exhausting.

a tray of appetizers passes by, and you absentmindedly grab a couple of things off it, nibbling without much interest. it doesn’t matter what’s on the tray anyway. you’re not really tasting the food, more just chewing to keep your hands busy. the thought of having a real conversation, something deeper, is gnawing at you now. something about all of this just doesn’t feel right.

you’re starting to wonder if it’s time to slip away when you spot jake again, still talking but now seeming to peel himself away from the crowd. there’s a slight hesitation in his steps, a subtle shift in his posture that tells you he’s likely looking for an escape. he notices you across the room, and for a moment, you lock eyes.

as he makes his way toward you, you try to steady your breath, your pulse quickening in your chest. this is it. the chance you’ve been waiting for, the conversation you’ve been putting off all day. he stops in front of you, and for a brief moment, the noise of the room fades away, leaving just the two of you standing there, caught in the unspoken tension.

“hey,” jake greets you softly, his voice familiar and warm. he’s a little breathless, like he’s been moving between too many people too quickly. “sorry about that. got caught up in all the conversations.”

you give him a small smile, the exhaustion of the day still weighing on you. “it’s okay. you’re kind of a big deal tonight, huh?”

jake chuckles, but there’s a slight edge to it, a nervousness that he tries to mask. “you could say that,” he replies, scratching the back of his neck, clearly still coming down from the high of his successful presentation. “i just…i don’t know. it’s a lot. i didn’t expect it to be this... overwhelming.”

you nod, understanding more than he knows. you’ve seen the way he’s handled the spotlight all day, how easily he’s slipped into the role of being admired and praised. but behind it, there’s a hint of discomfort, a desire to pull back and catch his breath, maybe just for a moment.

“you did great,” you say quietly, your voice a little softer than you intended. “seriously, everyone was talking about how amazing your presentation was.”

jake smiles, but there’s a flicker of something else behind his eyes, something deeper. “thanks,” he says, voice low, as if the weight of your words means more than just praise. “it means a lot, hearing that from you.”

the moment stretches, filled with things neither of you can say. but before either of you can break the silence, a group of researchers approaches, their attention immediately turning to jake.

“oh hey, dr. sim, that was a fantastic presentation!” one of them greets him enthusiastically.

“yeah, seriously, we were all really impressed!” another chimes in.

the conversation turns to you when one of them glances at you. “and who’s this?”

you smile, trying to keep it casual. “i’m just his assistant,” you say, voice light, though you feel a knot tighten in your stomach. “i help with the logistics, mostly.”

the change in their demeanor is almost imperceptible, but it stings. they glance at you for just a moment – polite, but distant – before their focus shifts back to jake. their attention is fully on him now, and you feel the weight of it. you watch as they exchange pleasantries, their questions directed solely at jake, with barely a second thought for you.

you stand there, just on the periphery, feeling smaller and smaller with each passing second. it's not that anyone’s being overtly rude or dismissive – no, it’s the quiet things that sting. the way their attention fades from you, the slight shift of their posture as they turn back to jake, as if they’ve finally placed you into the category they understand: assistant.

you want to leave. the air is suddenly thick, suffocating, like it’s too much to bear in your chest. but instead, you stay. you force yourself to stand there, a smile frozen on your lips, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your drink as you watch the conversation unfold in front of you.

jake notices, of course. you don’t know why you’re surprised by that – he’s always so attuned to the smallest shifts in the room, to the unspoken things that others might miss. but when his gaze flickers back to you, you see it. a flicker of something, maybe guilt, maybe frustration, but it’s enough to make you take a deep breath.

you stand there, feeling the heaviness of the situation, watching as the conversation moves further away from you. they’re all hanging on every word jake says, his presence suddenly the center of attention. it’s not that they mean to ignore you – it’s just that you’re the assistant, the one who fades into the background. and for some reason, tonight, that feels like more than you can bear.

“well, i should probably catch up with a few others,” jake says, cutting in smoothly when the conversation lingers just a little too long. “but thank you for the kind words, i really appreciate it.” his voice is polite, but there’s an edge to it now, something that wasn’t there before.

the group nods, seemingly unaware of the tension, but you catch the way their focus shifts back to jake, no longer sparing another glance in your direction. it’s as if they’ve already moved on, the conversation over before it even truly began.

you don’t look at him as he approaches – something about that would be too much, too raw right now. instead, you take a slow sip of your drink, pretending to be absorbed in the conversation nearby, though your mind is miles away.

he stands next to you for a moment, silent. neither of you says anything at first, the weight of the unspoken words lingering in the space between you.

“i’m sorry,” he finally says, and there’s an edge of frustration in his voice that you don’t quite recognize. you glance at him, meeting his eyes for a fraction of a second before looking away, the knot in your stomach tightening.

“you don’t have to apologize,” you say, your voice almost too quiet. “it’s just—”

“no, it’s not just that,” he interrupts, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in that familiar way that makes him seem younger, almost unsure. “it’s not... just you. it’s... me.”

you raise an eyebrow, surprised by his admission. “what do you mean?”

“i hate that they did that.” his words come out sharp, more frustrated than you’d expected. “it’s like they completely... disregarded you, just because of your role.” he glances down at you briefly, his voice softening. “i know it’s not just a title. i hate that they reduced you to that.”

you open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat. instead, you let out a breath, realizing that you’re finally hearing him say it out loud, finally acknowledging the difference between what he feels and what others might see. it doesn’t make everything better, but it helps.

and yet, the space between you two still feels so... distant. there’s something lingering in his eyes, something more than frustration. something you can’t quite place.

“you don’t have to say that, jake,” you finally manage to say, shaking your head. “i know what i am here.”

he winces, his gaze flicking away, and for a brief moment, you both just stand there, neither sure how to move forward.

“i’m sorry,” he repeats, quieter this time. “i don’t want to treat you like... like you’re just...” he struggles to find the right words. “i don’t want you to feel small. not when you’ve done so much for me.”

his words are soft, earnest, and they hit you in a way you didn’t expect. the weight of everything that’s been building, the distance, the tension – it all suddenly seems too much to hold in.

you let out a soft breath, steadying yourself before you speak.

“then what am i to you, jake?”

the words slip out quieter than you intend, but they land with weight. you’re not asking to be reassured. you’re asking for clarity. for the truth. for something real in the space where everything has felt suspended.

he looks at you sharply, like he wasn’t expecting that – like it never even occurred to him that you’d say it out loud.

you continue, a little bolder now, your voice steadier than before. “i mean… if you don’t want me to feel small, if it’s not just about work…then what exactly is this? what am i to you, really?”

jake exhales, slowly. his hand drops from the back of his neck, but he still doesn’t look at you. “you’re…” he starts, but falters.

and that’s what hurts. that he still doesn’t know. or won’t say. or can’t.

you step back slightly, the chill of the moment creeping in even under the warm lights around you.

“it’s okay if you don’t know,” you say, trying to keep your voice even, though there’s a tightness behind your ribs now. “but i wish you wouldn’t make it seem like i mean more than you can let on.”

“i’m not,” he says quickly. “i’m not pretending it doesn’t matter. i just…” he finally meets your eyes, and for once, he’s not hiding. “i don’t know how to say what this is. i don’t even know if i can afford to say it.”

there’s a pause. you tilt your head, confused. “afford to?”

“i told you, i don’t like when people leave,” jake says, quiet but sure. “and you…you’ve been the one person i never had to chase. you’ve just been there. always.”

he swallows hard.

“so if i say it,” he continues, voice rough now, “if i say how much you mean to me… and you still leave… i don’t know what that does to me.”

you nod slowly, letting his words settle. letting them bruise.

then, just above a whisper, you ask, “jake… if you’re so afraid of people leaving… would it even matter if i promised to stay?”

it’s not an accusation. it’s not even desperation. it’s just the question you’ve been carrying in your chest for too long.

and jake – he flinches like the words physically hit him. like you’ve put a name to the exact thing he’s been running from.

his lips part slightly, but he doesn’t speak. for once, jake sim – always so composed, always so careful – is completely, visibly caught off guard.

because he’s thought about this. he’s thought about you staying. he's wanted it more than he's let himself admit. he’s wanted it in the quiet, in-between moments: in the way you’d nudge his coffee closer without saying a word, in the scribbled notes you left on his desk when you knew he’d had a long day, in the way your presence felt like something steady in a life he was always bracing to watch unravel.

he’s wanted it in the seconds before you walked into a room, when he caught himself hoping you’d sit closer than you needed to.

he’s wanted it in the way your laugh made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he was someone worth sticking around for.

but he's also thought about what happens if he lets himself believe it.

“i don’t know,” he finally says, his voice barely audible. “i want to say yes. i want to say that’d change everything.”

you stare at him, waiting.

he looks back at you, and you the storm behind his eyes, the quiet war between wanting and fearing, between holding on and staying guarded.

“but i think,” he says, slower now, steadier, “i’m scared that if i let myself believe someone would stay… and then they don’t…” his voice falters. “it’s not just disappointment. it’s confirmation.”

you blink, taken aback. “confirmation of what?”

he doesn’t answer right away. just shifts, his gaze dropping to the ground.

“that maybe i was never enough to stay for,” he finally says. “that’s what i’ve always been afraid of.”

the air feels too still now. too full. you want to reach for him. you want to say you are enough, you’ve always been enough, but something in your chest tightens.

because he’s not really asking you to say it. he’s saying this because he doesn’t want to risk needing to hear it.

you look at him, at the boy who talks about constellations like they’re constants, who studies collapsing stars but doesn’t know how to hold onto something without bracing for its end.

and in a voice so quiet it almost breaks you, you say, “then maybe it was never about me staying at all.”

his eyes shoot back to yours.

“maybe it’s about whether you ever intended to meet me halfway.”

jake opens his mouth, but before he can respond, voices cut through the space between you. someone calling his name. a few colleagues walk by, catching sight of him, waving him over.

the moment cracks. you step back. and he hesitates – his hand twitching like he might reach for you. but he doesn’t.

and that’s all the answer you need.

you set your glass down gently on a nearby table. the clink of it feels final.

you don’t look at him again. you just turn and walk away – through the lobby, past the soft hum of conversation and clinking silverware, out into the night.

because you did promise to stay.

but jake never promised he’d be ready when you did.

thirty-one.

you skip breakfast.

not intentionally, not really. it’s more of a quiet decision. a quiet avoidance. the ache in your chest hasn’t gone away since last night, and the idea of sitting through a meal, pretending everything’s fine, pretending you didn’t ask him what you asked, pretending you didn’t want the answer more than you should have and it’s unbearable.

so you pack. methodically, in silence. you fold your clothes with more care than necessary. brush your teeth with your eyes on the faucet instead of the mirror. it’s easier not to look at yourself this morning.

there’s still a part of you hoping he’ll knock. even if it’s just to check in. even if it’s awkward. but your phone stays silent, your door untouched.

you meet him in the hotel lobby at 9:02.

jake had been surrounded when you arrived. some of the other researchers were still buzzing about last night’s sessions, laughing too loudly, sharing plans for future collaborations and projects. and jake, with his polite nods and that brilliant mind of his, stood right in the center. you saw the way he glanced at you when you walked up – quick and cautious – but he didn’t step away. he didn’t even speak, not until everyone had moved toward the hotel shuttles and you were left standing side by side by the glass doors.

even then, he only managed a soft, almost apologetic, “hey.”

you nodded. that was all. just a nod.

the train station was quiet when you arrived. too early for the weekend rush. the platform smelled faintly of coffee and rain, the sky still grey with the last dregs of morning. you boarded together, but said nothing. jake helped lift your bag into the overhead compartment, and you mumbled a thanks without meeting his eyes. then you sat – aisle seat, facing forward – and he slid in across from you, the little table between you both now feeling like a wall.

he looked like he wanted to say something. several times, in fact. you felt it in the way his leg bounced occasionally under the table, in the way he would glance at you and then away, like words hovered on his tongue but couldn’t find the air.

you turned to the window. let the trees and buildings blur past.

the train rumbled softly, a low, steady hum that filled the silence neither of you seemed ready to break. it wasn’t angry, not really. just… heavy. you were still replaying the night before – your own voice trembling when you asked what you were to him, the way he struggled to answer, the way your chest tightened when you realized he couldn’t. or wouldn’t. you hadn’t meant to put him on the spot. you hadn’t meant to make it sound like an ultimatum. but the truth was, somewhere along the way, you had started to hope for more. and that hope had begun to ache.

jake hasn’t spoken since the train pulled out of the station. 

he doesn’t remember sleeping. maybe he didn’t. maybe the entire night blurred into one long stretch of staring at the ceiling and silence, the words he didn’t say repeating in his head like an unfinished equation. the kind that just loops endlessly because it’s missing something. a constant. a variable. a courage he never had.

you hadn’t waited for him in the morning.

jake had hoped – naively, perhaps, that there’d be a moment. a breath. a second to pull you aside, to ask if you were okay, if you still meant what you said, if you hated him. but when you had made it to the lobby, your eyes were cast low.

and you didn’t say much. just nodded. gave the receptionist a clipped thank you. walked toward the taxi without looking back.

and he followed. what else could he do?

now, the train hums beneath him, a steady rhythm against his spine, and jake can’t stand how loud the silence between you two has become. it’s not the easy quiet he’s grown used to with you. not the kind where you both sink into your own thoughts, knowing you’re still tethered by something unspoken but understood.

this quiet feels like a door shutting. and he doesn’t know if he’ll get the chance to open it again.

he keeps glancing sideways. you’re across from him, curled slightly toward the window, arms crossed like a barrier. the light flickers over your profile as the train speeds past towns neither of you care to name. you haven’t spoken a single word since sitting down.

and he wants to talk to you. god, he wants to. but everything inside him is tangled.

jake thinks about last night. about the way your voice broke when you asked what you were to him. about how you said you didn’t expect him to meet you halfway anymore.

he doesn’t blame you. if he were in your place, he would’ve walked away too.

because the truth is, he’s spent so long keeping people at a distance that now, when someone stands close, he freezes. he panics. and with you, it’s worse. because you were never supposed to matter this much.

he rests his elbow against the window edge, forehead pressing lightly to the cool glass. his reflection stares back at him, tired and strained, like someone halfway through realizing they’ve ruined the one good thing in their life.

he thinks about his father.

he doesn’t talk about him. he never really has. not because it’s painful in the way people expect – there’s no single wound he can point to, no event with sharp edges. it’s more like a long absence. an empty chair at birthdays. a voicemail never returned. a room in his memory that’s always been locked.

and jake, just a boy who thought the stars could solve everything – waited. for days. for weeks. every car that passed, every shadow in the hallway, he hoped.

he waited until the waiting became a reflex. until he stopped believing people stayed.

so when you said last night, “would it even matter if i promised to stay?”—it had hit him in a place so buried he didn’t know how to respond. because he’d wanted to say yes.

yes, it would matter. yes, you already do. yes, he’s been terrified every day of how much he needs you, and how little he deserves to ask you to stay.

but instead, he just looked at you. and let the silence answer for him.

now you’re sitting there, further than the two feet between your seats should allow, and jake feels like he’s watching something precious slip through the cracks of his own fear.

he draws in a shaky breath and finally speaks, voice low. “i didn’t know how to say it.”

your head turns slightly, but your eyes stay trained out the window.

“i didn’t know how to say that i wanted you to stay. that i want you in… all of it. not just as my assistant. or someone who fixes the pieces when they fall apart. i just…” he trails off, hands curling into fists in his lap.

“i don’t expect you to believe me. after how i acted. after last night. but it’s not that you imagined things. you didn’t. i just… i’ve never been good at this.”

jake presses on, softer. “my dad left. when i was a kid. he didn’t say why. he didn’t even say goodbye. just… disappeared. and i think some part of me thought if i didn’t ask anyone to stay, i couldn’t be disappointed if they left.”

his throat tightens. he hasn’t said this out loud in years. maybe ever.

“but then you,” he whispers. “you stayed. you just stayed. without asking for anything. and it scared the hell out of me.”

you finally look at him. and jake swears that look could break him. because it isn’t angry. it isn’t even sad. it’s tired – like you already knew. like you were already letting him go.

because his words make your insides ache.

because you’ve waited and hoped even, for a moment like this. for the wall between you two to crack, just enough to let light through. for him to tell you why he always faltered right when you thought he’d reach for you. why he’d look at you like he wanted to say something, only to swallow it back every time.

but it’s not satisfying. it’s not cathartic. it just hurts. because now that you know… now that the curtain’s pulled back and you finally see the thing that’s been haunting him – it makes all of it make sense.

his hesitations. his silence. the way last night he had just stood there, frozen, caught between fear and want. and maybe if he had told you earlier – maybe if he had trusted you with this sooner – you would’ve held it differently.

but he hadn’t. and you’d spent months being the one who stayed. the one who filled in the silences. the one who waited and waited, until waiting began to feel like begging.

now you’re sitting across from him in a train full of strangers and endings, and you finally understand: he was never rejecting you, not entirely. he was protecting himself.

from history, from hope.from the fear that if he let someone close, they’d just leave, too.

it doesn’t make the pain vanish. but it does make it quieter.

you lean your head back against the window, your eyes fixed on the blur of trees racing past. you can’t look at him when you say it, when the words form softly in your chest and spill out like rain.

“i get it,” you say, your voice steady. “i do.”

you do. that’s the cruel part. you do.

you understand how loss can reshape a person. how abandonment lingers in the spaces people never talk about. you know how it claws at the way you let others in, how it makes you brace for every good thing to fall apart.

but even understanding has its limits. because knowing why jake can’t meet you halfway doesn’t erase the fact that you kept hoping he would.

and so, you say what you’ve already decided – what you’ve been deciding, little by little, since last night.

“i’m not asking for anything anymore, jake. not because i don’t care,” you add gently. “but because i realize now – you’re not ready. and maybe you won’t be for a long time. and maybe it’s not fair for me to wait around hoping you’ll wake up one day and decide i’m worth the risk.”

his lips part, but no sound comes out.

“i’m still here,” you continue, quieter now. “i’m not leaving. i meant that. i’ll still be there to remind you to take your meals, and hand you pens when you lose them. i’ll still print your reports and schedule your meetings.” a long exhale, like you were bracing yourself for what you were about to say, and when the words tumble out, they’re cracked in the middle, airy like a breath had clogged up your throat, “i’ll be there as a friend, if you want it. but i won’t expect anything more.”

jake feels like the world just tilted under his feet. not because you’re angry, but because you’re done asking. and that’s worse at this moment.

he nods, because it’s the only thing he can do without breaking completely.

the train rolls on, a blur of motion and endings and silence. and jake thinks, maybe for the first time, that regret is the sound of a heart closing gently, without slamming the door.

jake turns away again, eyes fixed on the window now. the scenery has changed – gray city edges replacing soft fields – but the heaviness in your chest hasn’t.

“i wish i was braver,” he murmurs. “i wish i could promise you something more.”

“i know,” you say. and you mean it. you really do. “but i need to stop wishing, jake. because it’s starting to hurt.”

he closes his eyes, and for the first time since the train left the station, neither of you says anything.

the city grows closer. you grip your bag tighter. you’ve made peace with your choice, even if it aches. you didn’t come into this expecting answers, but you leave knowing you can’t wait in the hallway of ‘maybe’ anymore.

when the train finally slows to a stop at the station, you rise before jake can. he’s still gathering his things, slow, hesitant.

“i’ll see you around,” you say softly, and he lifts his head. and you’re already walking down the aisle, your coat fluttering behind you, your shoulders squared.

you don’t look back. and for the first time in a long time, neither does he.

there is no dramatic farewell. no final confession. just two people watching something fragile fall apart in silence.

and maybe that’s all it ever was.

maybe that’s how some stories end – not with a bang, but with a train ride, a quiet ache, and the echo of things unsaid.

thirty-two.

the office feels too quiet now.

not the kind of quiet that means peace or progress, but the kind that fills the space after something’s ended. the kind that makes every keyboard clack sound too loud, every cough or printer beep feel like a disruption in a room that no longer knows what it’s waiting for.

jake sits at his desk with the blinds tilted halfway open, letting in slants of pale afternoon light that don’t quite reach him. the conference ended days ago, and technically, life has resumed. meetings scheduled, data reviewed, reports in draft. but nothing feels normal.

not when your desk is still across from his.

and not when he can’t look up without wondering what you’re thinking.

you’ve been…fine. not cold, not distant, but composed. efficient. maybe even softer than before, like you’ve laid something heavy down and are finally moving through air instead of water. but that’s what makes it worse – because jake knows exactly what you laid down.

he hasn’t stopped thinking about the train ride. about the way your voice cracked in the middle of your promise to stay as a friend, and how that – more than any anger or silence – gutted him. because you meant it. you meant everything you said, and jake had just sat there, paralyzed by a past he hadn’t even explained to you.

he catches glimpses of you throughout the day. sometimes you’re fixing the printer, tucking your hair behind your ear with the same tired grace that once made him forget what he was saying mid-sentence. sometimes you’re typing so fast he wants to ask what it is – what project, what plan, what version of the future you’re building that no longer includes him in a way that matters.

but most times, he doesn’t say anything at all.

jake’s fingers hover over his keyboard now, the same sentence blinking at him for the third time. he can’t focus. all he can think about is how he should’ve told you. about everything.

about how his dad left, just never came home from work one day. about the silence in their house after that – his mother sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of tea going cold in her hands, and jake pretending he didn’t notice the way she kept setting a second mug beside it for weeks.

about how no one ever explained why. just that he was gone.

that kind of abandonment carves into you. it teaches you not to believe in things that don’t come with guarantees. it makes you fear doors that open too easily, because you start to wonder how quickly they’ll close again.

jake had never told anyone that. not even you.

and maybe that’s why he’s here now, spiraling, stuck in this echo chamber of guilt and longing, because he knows now that you weren’t asking for forever. you were just asking for something. a word. a sign. a reason to keep hoping.

the air between you and jake is still thick with everything that’s unsaid.the awkward glances, the stiff nods, the polite exchanges – it’s all there. there’s no animosity. no anger. just a quiet, painful distance.

jake’s been trying to figure out what he can do. he knows he’s messed up. he knows he should’ve been braver, should’ve spoken up, but he was too scared to risk the one thing that truly mattered: you.

he hasn’t said much, but he doesn’t need to. jay sees it. jay always sees it. he’s not blind to the way jake spends every free moment staring at his screen like it’s the only thing keeping him from spiraling. he knows jake isn’t just working. he’s avoiding the guilt, the truth, the reality that he’s let something precious slip through his fingers.

and jay watches the way you move, the way you seem to have found a rhythm without jake, working, going through the motions. it’s like you’re there, but you’ve put up a wall. you’re not cold, but you’re not here anymore – not in the way jake wants. not in the way he needs.

it’s in the small moments that jay notices. like when jake brings up your name over coffee, his voice too quiet, like he’s trying to keep it casual, but the way his eyes flicker to jay for confirmation says everything. jay knows jake’s still asking the same question. how’s she doing?

and jay doesn’t lie. he doesn’t sugarcoat it, either.

“she’s fine,” jay says, like it’s an answer that should mean something more, but it doesn’t. “she’s doing alright. she’s... moving on.”

jake’s stomach twists, and for a second, he looks away, trying to hide the fact that it hits harder than he thought. but jay’s seen it before. he doesn’t say anything more, just lets the silence fill the space between them. jay’s the kind of guy who doesn't push, but you can tell by the way his gaze lingers on jake that he knows exactly what’s going on.

days blend into one another, a cycle of work and routine. you’re always in the background, in the periphery of jake’s life, moving with purpose, as if the world hasn’t changed. but it has. everything has shifted, and jake’s caught in the wreckage.

he watches you sometimes – when you’re walking to the printer, or when you’re talking to a colleague, your voice light, casual, a smile playing at the edges of your lips. he wonders if you’re really fine, like jay says. he wonders if you’ve really moved on.

he tells himself that he’ll be okay. he tells himself that this is what he deserves. but the truth is, he’s not okay. and he hasn’t been okay since that day.

but it's a feeling that persists the entire week, bleeding into the next one like a cold draught. it’s a random wednesday when things happen.

the rain outside had been relentless all day, casting a gray pall over the office. jake’s desk is cluttered with papers and half-finished calculations, the weight of them hanging in the air like the storm itself. his eyes flicker back and forth between the numbers, but they’re starting to blur. he’s been here longer than he should have, pushing through the fatigue, trying to make sense of the chaos in front of him. but no matter how hard he tries to focus, his mind keeps drifting.

it’s not even work anymore. it’s you. it’s the empty space between the two of you. the silence. the fact that nothing is really okay and no amount of math can make it right.

he rubs a hand over his face, the exhaustion creeping in, when he hears a faint knock on his office door. it’s soft, tentative, like a hesitation he can almost feel in his bones.

he doesn’t look up at first. “come in,” he calls, his voice sounding hollow, even to him.

the door creaks open, and there you are. you’re holding something in your hands – a small, unassuming box wrapped in paper, the kind of gesture that, to anyone else, might seem insignificant. but to jake, it’s like a quiet message. a lifeline thrown into the storm.

“i thought you could use something sweet,” you say, your voice light, almost apologetic. you step forward, placing the box gently on the edge of his desk.

jake doesn’t know what to say. the words feel lodged in his throat, and the weight of everything between you two presses in from all sides. he wants to thank you, but his words feel too small for the moment. instead, he just nods, eyes fixed on the box.

you step back, about to leave, and something inside jake snaps. it’s as if the quiet, unspoken weight of everything between you finally breaks through. he stands up, hurriedly this time, too quick, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he doesn’t act fast enough.

“wait,” he says, his voice catching.

you turn back, startled, and before you can react, jake is there. his hand comes out, just slightly, but it’s enough. he doesn’t know what he’s doing, but somehow, instinctively, he’s closing the distance between you. you don’t step back. you don’t flinch, but you hesitate, eyes searching his face for something. for what, exactly? he doesn’t know.

“i’m sorry,” he breathes. “i didn’t – i didn’t mean to make things harder.” his voice breaks slightly on the last part, the weight of everything he never said pressing into his chest. “i shouldn’t have shut you out. you didn’t deserve that.”

the sincerity in his voice hits you like a wave, knocking the air from your lungs. and before you even realize it, you find yourself taking a step closer to him. the air between you is charged with all the things that were left unsaid, and all the things that can’t be unsaid now.

for a moment, you both stand there, inches apart. his chest is rising and falling with every breath, his eyes glued to yours. it’s almost like he’s waiting for you to say something – anything. but it’s you who speaks first.

“you don’t have to apologize,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “i know you didn’t mean to hurt me. i just... i don’t know how to…fix this.”

jake shakes his head slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “i don’t either. but i’m trying. i swear i am.”

and in that moment, the tension between you both is so thick that jake feels like he can’t breathe. his hand slowly moves toward you again, this time with more certainty. there’s something in the air now, a fragile, unspoken connection that he can’t ignore. he reaches up, his hand trembling slightly as he cups your cheek.

your skin is soft, warm and flushed under his fingers, eyes looking up at him almost in wonder and he swears he sees stars in them. he swears, even as a man of science, that he sees literal stars studded in your eyes.

you don’t pull away. you don’t say anything. you just lean into his touch as if it’s the only thing that’s real right now. and a part of you waits for what is about to come – if ot does. it hopes that it comes.

the sound of the rain outside is distant, like a fading echo. and then, without thinking, jake leans in. just a fraction, but enough for your breath to mingle, for the space between you to be filled with the pull that’s been building for weeks. his lips hover so close to yours, you can feel the heat of his skin, the tension building, but neither of you moves any closer.

but then you feel his hands shaking, the shuddered breath that leaves his lips, the way his fingers squeeze ever so gently around your cheeks. and you know he’s scared. he’s still unsure. so you pull away.

jake’s fingers twitch, confusion flooding his gaze. he wants to chase after you. he wants to close that distance and take the leap, but something in you stops him. something in you knows that, even though this feels so right, it’s not enough yet.

“i can’t, dr. sim,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “i can’t do this... not when you’re still—” you don’t finish the sentence. you don’t need to. he knows.

jake steps back, his hand falling to his side. the air feels cold now, despite the heat that lingers between you. neither of you moves for a moment. the silence is heavy, suffocating, but it’s also full of understanding.

“you’re right,” he says softly, regret lacing his words. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have—”

“no, don’t apologize,” you interrupt, shaking your head, trying to smile through the ache in your chest. “i’m just… i’m just not ready either.”

and it’s true. maybe you don’t know if you’ll ever be ready, but right now, you know that you can’t wait for him to be something he’s not yet. you’re not angry. you’re not frustrated. you’re just… exhausted. the weight of everything that’s been left unsaid, the lingering feelings you’ve both been tiptoeing around, it’s too much to carry on your own.

jake looks at you, eyes searching yours for any sign that maybe, just maybe, you still want what he’s offering. but all he sees is the quiet resolve in your gaze – the same one that told him, just a few days ago, that you’d be there as a friend.

he nods, slowly, his heart heavy with all the things he wishes he could change. “i understand,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

you force a smile, the ache in your chest making it feel like a weight. “i’ll see you around,” you say softly, turning to leave the office, your footsteps quieter now, slower. the door clicks shut behind you, and jake stands there, frozen, the sound echoing louder than it should. his hands drop to his sides like they’ve lost purpose, still tingling from the feel of your skin.

the silence that follows is deafening.

he stares at the empty spot where you were just moments ago, his breath still shallow, his heart thudding like it’s trying to climb out of his chest. the rain outside taps steadily against the window now, no longer romantic – just real.

he runs a hand through his hair, pacing once, then twice, before collapsing back into his chair. he leans forward, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands.

what the hell was that?

jake has kissed no one. he’s never even come close. but just now, with you – he would’ve. he wanted to. not out of guilt. not to erase mistakes. but because, in that quiet, fragile second, it felt like the most honest thing in the world.

and still, you were right. he wasn’t ready. not really. and the last thing he ever wanted to do was drag you into the storm that still lived under his skin.

so he lets you go – for now. not because he wants to, but because loving you half-formed would be worse than not at all. and as the door stays closed and your footsteps fade, jake finally understands: this isn't about earning forgiveness or chasing moments. it's about becoming someone who won’t flinch when love finally looks him in the eye. someone who, when the time comes, can meet you there – whole.

thirty-three.

you take a leave for the first time since you started working here. not just a day or two – a full week.

"sick leave," you tell the department head, voice clipped and even. there’s no visible fever, no cough, no limp in your walk, but you look… tired. something in your eyes is hollowed out, something that no amount of caffeine or concealer can fix. you pack your things on thursday morning, the office still groggy from the previous day’s rainstorm. jake isn’t there yet.

you’re not sure if you’re relieved or disappointed by that. it wasn’t the almost-kiss that scared you. not exactly.

it was the way you felt when you stepped back.

jake had looked at you like you’d just taken the sun out of the sky. and you had to look away, because for one terrifying moment, you’d wanted to kiss him back. not because it was time. not because you were ready. but because it would’ve been easy. because it would’ve made everything hurt less.

it’s not that you can’t face jake. you know that you can. it’s just that you can’t face the disappointment, the knowing look in his eyes every time he glances your way. the ache of wishing things could be different, while everything between you two is fractured and hanging by a thread.

you have thought about it a lot though. the way his lips were so close that for a fraction of a second, the entire world seemed to shrink down to that one breath between you.you have thought that, for how, just one moment, you could almost forget the reason you held back – the fear that he wasn’t ready, that he didn’t know what he was asking for. or maybe that he just wasn’t asking for anything at all, and the rest was just a byproduct of guilt.

on friday morning, your phone buzzes with a message. from him.

dr. sim (jake): hey. just checking in. i hope you’re okay.

you stare at the message for five full minutes before locking your phone again.

no follow-up comes. no calls. you don't blame him. maybe he thinks he already said too much. maybe he’s ashamed. or maybe he really did just want to kiss you to feel better about everything he broke.

the thought hurts more than it should.

there’s a message waiting for you on friday afternoon.

dr. sim (jake): i know you probably don’t want to talk right now. i get that. but if you ever need a coffee, or just want to vent, i'm here. i’m sorry for everything. i know i’ve messed up.

the words sting more than they should. because jake’s always been straightforward, but here, in his message, you feel a quiet vulnerability, the kind of rawness that you didn’t expect. you’d almost forgotten that he had a side to him that wasn’t wrapped up in intellectualism, in the cold logic of science. but now, in his message, you see it – his humanity.

and it brings everything back to the surface.

by sunday evening, you’re still not sleeping right. still not eating much. you’ve been pacing in your apartment, trying to talk yourself out of doing it, trying to hold onto your own resolve. but when you see his name on the screen again, you finally snap.

you’re angry. and not just at him. but at the situation, at yourself for hoping, at everything that feels like it's falling apart. so you pick up.

“hey,” he says. “i wasn’t expecting you to pick up.”

you almost laugh, but it comes out bitter. “i’m sure you weren’t.”

he doesn’t respond right away. there’s an awkward pause before he finally says, “how are you? really?”

“really?” you can’t help the edge that creeps into your voice. “i’m fine, dr. sim. just needed some space. that’s all.”

another pause. you can practically hear him struggling to find the words. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to make you feel like you had to pull away. it wasn’t supposed to be like that. i know i—” he cuts off, and you can hear the soft clink of a glass in the background. “look, i’m not drunk. not this time.”

you roll your eyes. “so, what? are you just calling to apologize again?”

“no,” jake replies quickly, his voice tight. “i’m calling because you’ve been distant, and i get it. but i need to know if you’re okay. really. and if i’ve messed things up too much for you to even want to try again.”

for a moment, you just stare at the floor, feeling the weight of it all. “you think that’s what this is about?” you sigh deeply, the words thick with emotion. “i don’t know, jake. i don’t know what you want. i don’t know if you want this. i don’t know if you’re just... stringing me along because you feel guilty.”

his response comes quick, but with a rasp. “i’m not stringing you along. you’ve got it all wrong. i never meant to hurt you. i just... i’m not sure if i can give you everything you deserve, not right now. i don’t know what i’m doing. i’ve never known.”

“jake,” you say, soft but firm, “i need you to stop calling me and telling me these things in pieces. i can’t keep hoping based on half-truths or almosts.”

“i’m not trying to confuse you—”

“then don’t,” you cut in. “if you want something, you need to say it to my face. not over a call. not like this.”

“you’re right,” he says. “you’re completely right. i’ll… can we meet? i know it’s late. i know it’s sudden. but please.”

you hesitate.

“i’m not asking for forever,” he adds. “just… tonight. one honest conversation. no running. no almosts.”

you exhale slowly. and then against your own better judgement, because this is what you asked for, to do things face to face, not over a call, you ask, “where?”

“the observatory,” he says. “it’s the only place i know that still makes sense.”

your chest aches.

“okay,” you whisper.

you hang up before either of you can say something that might shatter the fragile truce forming between your tired hearts.

and then you get up. you pull on a coat. and you walk out into the cool, quiet night, hoping that this time he means every word.

thirty-four.

jake waits patiently by the observatory doors.

there’s a nervous energy in the way he shifts from foot to foot, hands tucked into his coat pockets, shoulders hunched slightly against the cool air. he hasn’t been able to sit still since the call. the night is quiet, the campus mostly deserted, save for the occasional flicker of motion-sensor lights or the faint hum of traffic far off in the distance.

he checks his phone once. no messages. then he looks up at the sky.

cloudless. that’s a good sign.

jake’s always found comfort in the sky – so constant, even in its vastness. stars burn and die, sure, but their light travels so far, for so long, that we still see them even after they’re gone. there’s something deeply unfair but also quietly beautiful about that. the idea that something can leave you, and yet, linger.

when the crunch of footsteps finally cuts through the silence, he turns.

and there you are.

hair a little wind-tousled, coat wrapped tight, eyes trained on him in a way that’s unreadable, but real. you don’t say anything at first. neither does he. the moment stretches, awkward and fragile, until jake finally clears his throat and gestures toward the doors.

“i, uh… kept it unlocked. figured we could talk inside.”

you nod and follow him in.

the observatory is dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the soft amber floor lights that run along the baseboards and the faint glow of the stars above through the open dome. the telescope sits idle in the center of the room, and everything feels suspended, like time’s holding its breath.

jake doesn’t sit right away. instead, he paces once, then turns to face you.

“i didn’t know if you’d come.”

you lift your chin, heart pounding. “i said i would.”

a beat of silence passes before he says something.

“i meant what i said. i didn’t want to confuse you. i just…” he exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “god, this is harder in person.”

you cross your arms, not cold, just needing somewhere to put your tension. “then tell me the truth. the whole thing. no science metaphors, no soft landings. just tell me what you want, jake.”

and god, this time when you say his name, it’s so careful. so wary, so full of an adoration you’re not sure you deserve to speak with.

his eyes meet yours, steady despite the storm behind them.

“i want you. not as an assistant. not as a friend i owe an apology to. i want you, knowing full well i’m complicated and messy and scared shitless most days.”

your lips part, the smallest of smiles flickering on them but you bite down and he keeps going. his voice doesn’t tremble, but you can hear the pressure behind it, like a dam straining under the weight.

“i wasn’t scared that night because i didn’t want to kiss you. i was scared because i did. because it was the first time something felt… real. and not like a distraction or something to get me through the stress or the guilt or the expectations. you’re not a coping mechanism. you’re—”

he stops himself, eyes darting upward to the stars. it calms him.

“there’s this concept,” he says softly, “called parallax error. it’s what happens when you measure the position of a star from two different points in earth’s orbit. six months apart, same star… but it looks like it shifts positions. it doesn’t actually move, though. the shift is just a trick of perspective.”

you blink at the sudden shift, but he’s not rambling – he’s guiding himself.

“sometimes i think that’s what i did with you. i kept looking at you from different angles; first as a colleague, then a friend, then someone i couldn’t stop thinking about – but i couldn’t get close enough to admit what you really were to me.”

you breathe in, slowly. “and what am i?”

jake steps closer. “someone who saw through me before i even knew i was hiding.”

you don’t know what to say to that.

because there’s something unraveling inside you, something warm and terrifying and beautiful all at once.

“i didn’t kiss you that night,” he adds, voice lower now, more fragile, “because i was scared it would feel like stealing something i hadn’t earned.”

you swallow hard. “and now?”

he holds your gaze. “now i’d ask.”

a long silence.

then you move.

it’s subtle at first – just one step forward. then another. jake doesn’t reach for you, doesn’t close the distance. he waits.

you stop in front of him, eyes flicking between his and his slightly parted lips. he smells like soap and notebook paper and his woody cologne.

“i was scared too,” you say, barely above a whisper. “not of you. just… of getting hurt. of wanting something i wasn’t sure you wanted back.”

“i wanted it,” he says immediately. “i want it now.”

your chest rises and falls. “jake, have you ever done this before?”

he blushes. actually blushes. “no.”

a beat. you tilt your head. “never?”

he shakes his head. “no. not because i didn’t want to. just… never found someone i trusted enough to want it to mean something. until you.”

your breath catches.

jake shakes his head, not ashamed, just honest. “i don’t think i ever wanted to. not like this. it was never… right. i never met someone who made me want to risk it. not until you.”

you freeze, something tender tightening in your chest. he goes on, more certain now, eyes steady on yours.

“it’s not that i was waiting for some perfect moment or whatever. i just… i think part of me didn’t believe it could be real. that i could want someone this much. and have it feel… like it matters.”

you don’t know what to say for a moment. because it does matter. god, it does.

you glance up. the stars are faint through the dome, soft and silent above you. distant, but still burning. and it feels right – that something this real, this quietly extraordinary, is happening here.

so you lean in, slowly. and jake meets you halfway this time

it’s careful, at first. tentative, like touching something sacred. his lips brush yours, feather-light, unsure but aching to stay. you pause – just a breath, just long enough to feel his heartbeat skip beneath your fingertips, where your hand has come to rest against his chest.

then he kisses you properly.

it’s not perfect. it’s a little awkward, a little hesitant, but it’s real. and god, it’s soft. his hands hover for a moment before one lands gently on your waist, the other staying at his side like he’s afraid to overstep. you press your palm against his chest and feel the rapid-fire beat of his heart under your fingers.

then, all at once, something in both of you gives.

the press of your lips is deeper. still gentle, but more certain. like he’s no longer afraid of wanting this. like he’s finally decided it’s okay to let himself want something this much. your hand slips up, fingers curving at the back of his neck, and jake exhales like he’s been holding it in for years.

when you pull back, barely an inch, he stays close. his forehead presses to yours, his breath warm between you. you can feel the tremble in him – not from fear, not anymore, but from the overwhelming quiet rush of feeling.

“i didn’t know it could feel like that,” he says, voice hoarse.

you smile, eyes still closed. “like what?”

jake pulls back just enough to look at you. there’s a softness in his eyes, like starlight diffused through mist.

he shakes his head slowly, as if searching for the right words. “like my brain completely shut down and forgot how to function.”

you let out a small laugh at that, the sound barely a breath. it’s not just the words, but the way jake’s still staring at you – wide-eyed, a little dazed, like he’s been hit with something too big to fully comprehend. his teeth are biting down on his bottom lip, and it’s in that moment that you can tell for sure; this was his first kiss.

you can’t help but smile. “that’s an interesting way to describe it.”

jake’s brow furrows slightly, a touch of concern flickering across his face. “wait, is that a bad thing? like, you didn’t – did i mess it up?”

“no, no,” you rush to reassure him, your hand gently resting on his chest. “i just didn’t know kissing was that much of a brain-melter.”

he blinks at you, clearly processing what you just said. then a small grin starts to tug at the corners of his lips. “so… you’re saying i wasn’t totally terrible?”

you can’t help but chuckle, the moment lightening just enough. “no, no. it was good.” you pause, tilting your head thoughtfully. “but maybe next time, you can, y’know, move a little more. like... try not to get stuck in your own head.”

jake groans and laughs, his face flushing bright red. “i didn’t think i’d have to practice kissing. is this what people do? do they... like, rehearse?”

you burst out laughing at that. "rehearse?!" you shake your head, still laughing. "jake, you are so ridiculous."

his face turns even redder, and he starts running a hand through his hair, clearly embarrassed. "okay, maybe i don't know how this works," he mumbles, eyes darting around like he's trying to figure out how to recover from the situation.

"no, no, you're fine!" you say, still laughing a little at the sheer absurdity of it all. "i can't believe you just asked if people rehearse kissing like it's a... a dance move."

he fidgets, clearly not sure if he should be mortified or just roll with it. "well, i mean, i didn't want to mess it up! i thought there might be some kind of... manual. like, step one, lean in. step two, lips meet. step three, don't panic."

you chuckle again, giving his arm a playful shove. "jake, this isn’t instructional. it’s... it’s just—" you pause, realizing how much you mean what you’re about to say. "it’s about being with someone you want to be with. you’re not supposed to overthink it. it’s supposed to feel natural."

jake looks at you, that unsure yet utterly endearing look in his eyes. "natural, huh? so no manual needed?"

"nope. no manual. but i can’t promise i won’t laugh at your rehearsal idea next time," you tease, nudging him with your shoulder.

jake laughs too, the sound warm and easy now. "alright, well, next time, i won’t ask if i can practice in the mirror first." his grin is almost too cute for words.

you roll your eyes playfully. “don’t even joke about that. please.”

“i’m just saying,” he replies, feigning seriousness, “if this is a regular thing for us, i might need to... you know... train a little bit.” his teasing tone and that shy but sweet smile on his face make it impossible for you to take him seriously, and you can’t help but laugh again.

“you’re unbelievable,” you mutter, shaking your head at him with an exaggerated eye roll.

jake shrugs with a grin. “well, i’m learning. and, uh, can’t promise i won’t mess up next time either.”

“i’ll take my chances,” you say, fighting to hide your smile.

you both fall into a comfortable silence for a beat, the air still crackling with something sweet, but light. it's not perfect, but it feels good. too good to overthink.

“just for the record,” jake says, his voice softer now, “i wouldn’t mind kissing you again. manual or no manual.”

you smile, your heart warming at the honesty in his words. “good to know, because i don’t mind kissing you either.”

so he takes his chances and leans in, and this time there's no hesitation. he kisses you again, but it's different – deeper, a little more sure, as if he's not afraid of what it means anymore. 

when you pull back, the air between you feels heavy, but not uncomfortable. there's something sweet about the quiet, the way his forehead rests gently against yours, like he's taking a moment to savor the feeling before he says anything else.

you stay there, suspended in the quiet, just feeling the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. the moment stretches, both of you caught in the softness of it, not quite ready to pull away. his hands have shifted, one resting lightly on your waist, the other drifting up to cup the back of your neck, thumb grazing gently over your skin. the way he's holding you now feels like an unspoken promise, like he doesn't want to let go, and you don't want to either.

for a moment, neither of you speak, just breathing in sync, taking it all in. you let your arms slip around his neck, pulling him just a little closer, your fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt. it’s not desperate, just... right. like you’re both settling into something that feels almost too good to be real.

“you’re really not that bad at this, you know?” you tease, your voice low, still caught in the softness of the moment.

jake chuckles, his hands tightening slightly around you, pulling you just a little closer. “i’m glad to hear that. i think i could get better with a little more practice.”

you lean in again, this time your forehead resting against his, arms still wrapped around each other. the warmth between you feels safe, comfortable. in this moment, it’s as though nothing else matters. no questions, no hesitations – just the quiet understanding that you're here, together.

jake’s hands slide from your waist up to your back, holding you tighter, like he’s afraid if he lets go, you’ll slip away. you let him, pressing your cheek against his shoulder and letting the feeling of his arms around you settle into something even more real. the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your chest is like a grounding rhythm, something that’s telling you, in the gentlest way, that this is just the beginning.

you pull back just enough to meet jake’s gaze again. there’s a weight to the silence, a quiet realization settling between you that this – this moment, this connection – wasn’t really something you’d planned for. you’d both danced around it for so long, unsure and careful, but here you are, tangled up in something that didn’t come with a map.

jake's eyes linger on you, watching the way your expression shifts from playful to something more soft, something more real. he can still feel the heat of your touch, your hands around his neck, the rhythm of your breath syncing with his. it’s all still sinking in. still feeling like something he should probably be questioning, but he’s not. for once, he’s not overthinking. and that’s… new.

he watches you breathe, and the quiet of the room seems to wrap around the two of you, like it’s cocooning this moment in a way that makes everything else feel so far away. this was never part of his plan.

nothing about tonight, nothing about the way you’ve gotten under his skin without him even realizing it, was something he could’ve mapped out. he was so sure before – so certain that if he just kept everything in neat little boxes, kept his distance, it would be easier. safer.

and now here he is, holding you, unsure if he even knows what the hell he’s doing, but too lost in it to care.

you’re here, in his arms. the thing he wanted, the thing he never thought he could have. the kind of closeness that makes his chest feel a little too full, a little too overwhelmed with this thing that’s more than just chemistry. it’s more than just a kiss, more than just the surface-level stuff he used to think was enough. this is different. this is something deeper. something that matters in ways he’s still trying to wrap his head around.

he’s never been good at this. he’s always been the guy who keeps people at arm’s length, never letting anyone in too far. he’s the one who can talk about his work all day long, but when it comes to this? to the messy, emotional, uncharted territory of actually letting someone in? he’s been too scared to even try. but with you… with you, it doesn’t feel like something he needs to guard against anymore. you make it feel like he can just… be. be himself. be vulnerable.

and maybe that’s what’s funny about it. how life, or maybe just people, work that way. how you can do everything right, follow the rules, and yet still end up somewhere you didn’t expect. but it doesn’t feel wrong.

in fact, it feels like maybe the best thing that’s ever happened, even if it wasn’t part of some grand plan.

— outtake.

jake’s sitting on the floor, his back against his couch, nose buried deep in one of his theoretical analytics book in front of him, eyes scanning the page but not really absorbing the words. his mind keeps wandering – mostly to you, of course. he’s been trying to focus, to get through the research he’s been putting off, but it’s hard when you’re here. in his space. wearing one of his hoodies that’s far too big for you, hair tousled in the way he secretly loves.

you’re sitting next to him on the couch, feet tucked underneath you, fiddling with your phone. but your attention keeps drifting to him, to the way he scrunches his brow in concentration, pushing his glasses up every few minutes. you can’t help but smile. it’s a little endearing, how lost he gets in his work.

your fingers itch for something to do, so you casually reach over, your hand sliding into his hair. he barely reacts at first, his attention still on the book in front of him, but as your fingers thread through his hair, he lets out a soft breath, like he’s been holding it in without realizing.

he shifts a little, trying to focus again, but it’s hard to ignore the soothing way you’re playing with his hair. your touch is gentle, but there’s a playfulness in it, too. you keep running your fingers through his soft locks, your movements becoming slower, almost rhythmic, as if you're testing how far you can get him to relax.

it only lasts so long before your attention drifts to a piece of paper sticking out from under the pile of books on the table, tucked safely within his wallet, but just the corner peeking out. without even thinking, you pull it out from under the pile of papers and there it is. the note.

the same one you’d left for him that night, tucked carefully into his hand. the one with those words you’d never thought would mean so much: “betelgeuse is still shining. you’ll get through it too!.”

you freeze for a second, feeling your heart skip a beat as the memory of that night floods back. the quiet moments, the way he’d looked at you with something raw in his eyes. the way he hadn’t let go of that note, of your words, keeping them close.

jake’s hand, still resting on the edge of the couch, twitches slightly as he notices you holding the paper. his eyes flick up from his book, and he suddenly goes still, a hint of panic crossing his face.

“no—” his voice is almost a whisper, but his gaze is locked on the note in your hand, and you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as you look at it, a warmth flooding your chest. but when you glance up, you see jake’s face has gone pale. he’s trying to hide the sudden tension in his shoulders, but it’s obvious.

"jake," you tease, holding the note up between your fingers. "what’s this doing here, huh?"

he glances at you quickly, trying to cover up the fact that he’s been caught off guard. “i—i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters, but there’s a flush creeping up his neck.

“really?” you raise an eyebrow, the playful glint in your eye growing. “this is still in your wallet, isn’t it?”

before he can respond, you lean forward, holding the note just out of his reach. “you’ve been carrying this around, huh?” you tease, voice low and soft, yet filled with playful mischief.

jake narrows his eyes, trying to keep a straight face, but you can see the tug of amusement around the corners of his mouth. “give it back,” he says, his voice holding an edge of feigned seriousness.

but you’re not backing down. instead, you shift just slightly, pushing him back a little, nudging him gently with your body. jake responds with a low chuckle, his hands coming up to tug at the paper, but you pull it away, your fingers a little quicker than his.

“you’re not getting this back that easily,” you laugh, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

jake’s face flushes more, but he leans forward, suddenly grabbing at your wrist with a playful strength, pulling you closer. “okay, okay,” he says, but his eyes are dancing, that mix of exasperation and affection that always gets to you.

and just like that, you’re laughing, tumbling in a gentle, playful wrestle, the two of you grappling for the note, your movements tumbling together on the couch. it’s a tangle of limbs, both of you laughing and trying to outmaneuver the other, jake’s glasses slipping down his nose as he leans over you.

you feel the warmth of his breath on your neck, his chest against yours, and in a sudden, quiet moment, you freeze. your eyes meet, the note still clutched between your fingers, but now all you can think about is the space between you two. you’re both so close, and in that instant, everything slows.

jake’s hand moves to adjust his glasses, but you reach up and gently push them up his nose, your fingers grazing his skin. it’s the slightest touch, but it makes the room feel even smaller, more intimate, the air thick with something unspoken.

he looks at you, just inches away, his eyes soft and almost... vulnerable. and then, before you can second-guess it, you pull him closer. you kiss him, gently at first, just feeling the press of his lips against yours.

but then he deepens it, and everything else fades. the note, the teasing, the wrestle – it all vanishes. all that matters is him, the way his hands are tender but urgent, the way his lips move against yours with a newfound, quiet intensity.

when you pull away, breathless, your foreheads rest together for just a moment, your fingers still tangled in his hair.

you stay like that for a beat longer, the quiet settling in, the world outside feeling distant.

jake’s thumb traces the back of your hand, and you glance down at the note still clutched between your fingers. the words come back to you like a quiet hum in the background. it’s a simple thing, but it feels like everything in that moment – like a quiet reminder that, even when things seem uncertain, there’s still something constant, something that endures.

you meet jake’s gaze again, and without saying a word, you both know: yeah, we’ll be okay.

[cybrasigilism]

Can you do nsfw alphabet w nam-gyu? 🤭

NSFW ALPHABET with Player 124 (Nam-gyu)

warning: smut and all things of the like, the usual | not proofread | lowercase intended | these are my headcanons for this character, please be respectful even if my opinions on the character differs from your own

character: nam-gyu (player 124)

A/N: since i have another nam-gyu request lined up and cooking in my drafts i figured this would be a great way to get comfy in writing for him. it’s nice to see some player 124 fans up in the fandom especially since he shouldn’t be getting hate for the same shit thanos was also doing (yes i know he did kill se-mi and he did lose some credit with me for that, but i fear i saw that one coming a mile away). also, THANK YOU GUYS FOR 100 FOLLOWERS? i’m genuinely blown away by the sheer amount of support y’all have given me and I’m eternally grateful :’)

MDNI! 18+ content under the cut, reader’s discretion is advised

══════════════════

A= Aftercare what they’re like after sex

↳ based on how clingy he is with his friends? yeah, he’s gonna be down for a cuddle post-sex. if it’s a one and done thing though, don’t expect much in the regards of after care. at most he might offer you a smoke but he’s only super affectionate if you guys are in a relationship

B= Body part their favourite body part of theirs + their partners

↳ his and your favourite part of his body is his hands, without a doubt. his favourite part of his partner? hands down we’ve got ourselves another ass man, and who’s surprised?

C= Cum anything to do with cum, really

↳ bites his lip when he gets close (just gonna put this here and run off)

D= Dirty Secret a dirty secret of theirs

↳ really, and i mean really, loves how you look with his hands around your neck

E= Experience how experienced are they? do they know what their doing, etc.

↳ i get the impression that he’s fairly experienced, and he does know what he’s doing in the regards of rougher sex. however he does need guidance when it comes to more intimate, gentler sex

F= Favourite Position this one speaks for itself

↳ any position where you’re riding him is his favourite. he loves being able to feel you up and take as much control as he feels like, while still letting you do most of the work.

G= Goofy are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous, etc.

↳ regardless of whether he’s on top or not, he will be mocking you. it’s all out of love of course, but sometimes that can be called into question

I= Intimate how are they in the moment, the romantic aspect?

↳ it really takes a while for him to warm up to gentler fucking, especially since he’s so used to rough + sloppy one night stands. it’s always jarring to see him get vulnerable with you though

J= Jack off masturbation headcanons

↳ talks you through touching yourself OH MY GOD THIS DAMN WIND AGAIN SOMEONE SHUT THE WINDOWS-

L= Location their favourite place to do the do

↳ semi-public sex turns him on, need i say more?

M= Motivation what turns them on, gets them going?

↳ total cliche, but seeing you in revealing outfits totally gets him aroused. if you’re wearing something that hugs your ass just right, yeah you won’t be wearing it for much longer

N= No something they won’t do

↳ i don’t feel like there’s a lot this guy wouldn’t do, but if anything it’s probably pegging

O= Oral their preference on giving or receiving oral, how skilled are they, etc.

↳ couldn’t care less if he’s eating you out or if you’re sucking his dick, he’s always down for oral sex. hell, he’s probably into doing 69 but that’s for him to know, and for you to find out

P= Pace are they fast + rough? slow + sensual? etc.

↳ he’s typically going to be pretty rough, he’ll be gentle somewhat at the start if you specify that you’re a virgin but trust that the gentle act will cease quite soon into the fucking™️

Q= Quickie their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.

↳ he absolutely loves quickies, there’s something about that adrenaline kick that he can’t get enough of

R= Risk are they game to experiment? how do they feel about risk?

↳ if any one of the squid game characters is down to experiment with risk, it’s nam-gyu. if he’s willing to take crazy unknown drugs from thanos in the games, he’s willing to experiment in bed

S= Stamina how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last? etc.

↳ is it the drugs? is it his experience? god knows. but whatever it is, his stamina is pretty crazy. he will usually outlast you in the matter of rounds, but that might also be because of how thankless he is on your pussy

T= Toys do they own any toys? do they use them on themselves or their partner?

↳ i’m not sure he’d be the kind of guy to own crazy toys, definitely owns a couple fleshlights, and he will use vibrators on you if you bring them

U= Unfair how much they like to tease/be teased

↳ lets not kid ourselves here. he is the king of mean teasing, he’ll tease you the whole time if he feels like you deserve it

V= Volume how loud they are, what sounds they make etc.

↳ definitely not much of a moaner, more so grunts and what have you especially if he’s in control. he’ll call you his “personal fucktoy”. something i could totally see him saying while he’s fucking you is “fuck, ‘so tight for me. nice to see what a pathetic little slut you are.”

W= Wildcard a random headcanon for the character

↳ really good with his hands. he will tease your clit if he’s able

X= X-ray what’s going on under those clothes?

↳ is he super jacked? no. does he have a fair amount of muscle on him? yes absolutely. for size, he’s easily 6” hard

Y= Yearning how high is their sex drive?

↳ his sex drive is almost concerning. point blank

Z= Zzz how fast they fall asleep after

↳ don’t expect him to wait up for you. if he’s super worn out he’s heading off to snooze-ville before you do

══════════════════

thanks for the request! i’ve been meaning to write for nam-gyu especially since he does not get enough recognition in the fandom :)

as always, any advice/constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing is appreciated and requested! have a gorgeous day all 💋

tags: @gabbystinks

[huntingcupid]

CASUAL — D.A.

dumb love, I love being stupid dream of us in a year maybe we'd have an apartment and you'd show me off to your friends at the pier

⌗ DANIELA — fem!reader, angst, swearing, doomed yuri, straight dani, friends to strangers, reader slowly starts to despise dani, regret,self harm, homophobia, religion mentioned, usage of dyke, etc...

⌗ SYPNOSIS — was it all casual?, stolen glances, hugs and kisses, letters and sleepless nights talking to eachother — did it mean anything?

⌗ CUPID — hey.... first very angsty work so yeah, thank you to my dear friend @yunazxxx for helping me with the plot :D

time passed by so fast — suddenly you're in college and searching for part time jobs, yet sometimes you reminisce about your past, the people you have met throughout the journey, one person has changed you for good and bad, the person? — daniela avanzini

your “best friend”, you can't imagine your childhood and teenage years without the latina, without the stupid jokes you two have made, the times you two made decisions you shouldn't have, but it was all worth it as long as she was with you, doing it with you

you've always had a doubt about your sexual identity, especially during times where you and dani would just be hanging out and you'd imagine your future marrying her — it didn't help that you two were inseparable, daniela calls you her wifey, and you felt butterflies in your stomach whenever she did

daniela's mother also treated you like her kid, you often came along with them for family trips, sharing clothes with the girl — during the last few years of highschool you really started having an identity crisis, you didn't know who you were, or what you are

“dani, can I tell you something?” you whisper as you two lay in her bed — daniela looks over at you concern etched onto her features, “anything y/n, why?” she replies, your heart raced, “i-i- I'm queer” you stammer, you closed your eyes afraid of the reaction you might get, yet when you felt the girls arms wrap around you everything felt right and free

“that's good y/n!” daniela cheered, you definitely didn't expect this reaction since daniela came from a very religious family, yet something in you screams that she doesn't fully accept it, the way her eyes seem to look at you felt different

yet against your better judgment you didn't do anything, months passed and it seemed like daniela became distant from you, the daily calls you two had turned into every 2 days or whenever she says she's free, her chats became more generic and had seemed to lose its humor or life

you chat the girl, asking if you can hang out — she replies and agrees, you get excited due to how much you missed the girl, you slept thinking about you two, about what you two might do tomorrow

“hi dani!” you run up to the girl hugging her, daniela froze a bit before returning the hug, a short and cold hug, “hi y/n” she mutters, “let's get some ice cream?” you ask smiling at the girl, “sure” you two walk to the nearest ice cream shop, picking out flavors, daniela loved salted caramel while you loved chocolate, daniela took pictures of her ice cream, you giggle “are you gonna post that?, can you send it to me too?” you follow, “actually it's for josh” your heart sank and for a moment your smile faltered, “josh?” you ask not recognizing the name, “oh he uhm- we are talking you know” she replies hastily, you bit the inside of your cheeks, you wished that you were born a man sometimes maybe then you'd experience her love,

after the ice cream shop you two walk to sit at the park benches watching as the sun set, you took a few candid pics of the latina, she looked gorgeous, something out of a dream, her eyes were like crystals and her smile, god her smile can make you melt at the spot, “i missed you” you mutter as you two sat in silence, “oh” daniela replies — little by little you felt your heart break, “dani, i know i shouldn't say this but, I've liked you since I've known you” you mutter finally letting go of those words, silence — your heartbeat was the only thing you can hear and the soft rustling of the plants, “i-i- don't y/n” daniela replies seemingly uncomfortable, you felt like you got stabbed a million times, your future flashed by your eyes, the dreams you've built around you two now burning down, “I'm sorry i shouldn't have said that” you stutter, blinking away the tears you felt forming in your eyes, “y/n i love you, and god does too, its never too late to get saved” you tear up hearing her words, cause why is it a sin, a sin to love, why did he make you this way — why?

“I'll help you” daniela looks at you hopeful, “sure” you replied even though you felt so betrayed, this is the same girl you came out to, the same girl who helped you come to terms with your sexuality, now telling you that loving is a sin

throughout the first few weeks of college, daniela gave you a bible and even an invitation to her church, claiming that you were under the touch of the demon, you only nodded, all the while daniela would hang out with her friend josh, they'd laugh and share moments like you two did before you came out, it was the breaking point for you when you saw daniela and josh at the janitors closet making out, daniela looked guilty but she quickly got mad at you, “get the fuck out!” it was the first time she ever swore at you, the first time you realized it wasn't worth keeping her around if all she did was hurt you and made your sexuality a joke

yet as you lay in your bed, closing your eyes from exhaustion all you see is her, smiling brightly at you, daniela looking like your savior, her during the times she still felt real and not a projection of the people who hate you, “i love you” you mutter tears falling out of your eyes, you fell deeper into depression when you were lonely and no one was there to help you, to talk to you

you didn't know what else to do but blame yourself, hurt yourself, razors, scissors anything sharp that can take away your mind from her, anything that can make you feel punished for being what you are

you became suicidal, you hated everything, every moment you'd step into the halls of your campus, seeing daniela and josh hand in hand, laughing and kissing — while you?, you can't live in a world where daniela hated you, where she didn't acknowledge who you truly are

“y/n?” you hear your roommate enter the dorm room, seeing you sobbing, “h-hi” you replied wiping away your tears, “are you okay?” manon ask, “yeah, just stressed with work and school” you replied chuckling, knowing its way deeper than that

days passed and you knew you had to pick yourself up, make sure you don't feel like a failure, a worthless living person, — you went to lectures, sleep deprived and wearing long sleeves in attempts to hide your sh scars

daniela looked across the room a flicker of guilt and empathy seeing you, a shell of your former self, she quickly masked it with uninterest and a poker face

yet after class she follows you to the women's restroom, cornering you, “y/n, what has gotten into you, you shouldn't hurt something given to you by-” you cut her off “god?, I'm sorry daniela” you said pushing her off you, she only scoffs and follows you, “what is this about then! just a way to gain my sympathy? cause fuck it y/n it does” she breathes out furious, seeing her ex best-friend slowly die, “what the fuck is this dyke doing here” josh says pushing into the bathroom to collect dani, you bit your lip hurt but you expected it, you chuckled to yourself — as much as it hurts seeing her settle for this man you couldn't do anything, but watch and despise them both

you'd long for the days that daniela magically just go back to you, talk to you and realized how much of a jerk her boyfriend was, how much you could treat her better

at some point the love you had for daniela became hatred, she didn't reach out anymore nor did you, it was radio silent, some nights you'd stare at your last messages with her, and regret not ending it earlier

you regret being blind to all her red flags, you regret putting her feelings before yours, you regret not knowing she was not good for you

now she's just another woman in school, someone you'd pass in the hallways, even though your eyes locked with hers, it didn't mean anything anymore, at least to you it didn't anymore, after all, it was all casual

maybe she was a part of your past, but you refuse to let her ruin your future

wc: 1.3k words

(hate this idk why)

[haerenven]

If you write for him, could I ask for Sir Crocodile who is absolutely WHIPPED for reader? I loveee when he’s portrayed as a hopeless romantic for his partner and it’s even better when reader is the same way towards him ♡ sort of like Mortica and Gomez ^^ (I’m not normal about him I’m sorry LMAOWJDB)

           苦⠀⠀⠀℘𝗈𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗌⠀𝐞⠀⸺⠀𝒮ilenci̲o̲s⠀⠀٫

Pairings. Sir crocodile x fem!reader

summary. Whipped

— (a/n): i am so so super excited for that request, in fact I was waiting for crocodile for so long but got no idea.

⠀⠀   ⠀             ︵‿⭒                     ⠻ ‎❀ ‎⠟  

— He is devoted, not desperate.

Crocodile does not chase love—he does not stumble over himself to prove his worth, nor does he fall into the reckless behaviors of men who do not understand the meaning of control. He is not a man ruled by whims, yet when it comes to you, something inside him changes. He does not worship as poets or fools do; rather, he loves you as a man who fully understands what he owns. His love is deliberate, a silent force that weaves itself into your life without request, without question. He is not a beggar at the altar of your love—he is the altar itself, the ground upon which your love is built. His devotion is not a weakness; it is a law—unspoken, absolute, and completely unbreakable.

— Actions over words.

Crocodile is not a man who speaks in vain, nor does he waste his time on great declarations. Words are cheap. He has been a man of power for a very long time to believe in beautiful phrases and fleeting emotions. What he truly believes in is consistency. A gloved hand touching yours—not by accident, but because he wants to feel your presence. The way he ensures you walk on the safe side of the street, a silent habit that has become part of his nature. He watches over you not because he doubts your strength, but because the idea of something happening to you is not a possibility he can accept. Loyalty is not something he gives easily. But you? You hold his loyalty in a way no one else does, and even if he never says it out loud, you will know. You will always know.

— He indulges you—but only you.

Crocodile has no patience for fools. His subordinates know well not to waste his time, and he rarely engages in unnecessary conversations. But with you? His attention is yours alone. It does not matter if you are talking about something important or simply enjoying the sound of your own voice—he listens. He listens in a way that seems indifferent, reclining with a cigar in hand, occasionally letting out a hum or a low chuckle, but he does not miss a thing. He notices every change in your tone, every glance, every small smile that tugs at your lips. And when you turn to him expecting a reaction, he meets your gaze with that same knowing look—because of course he was listening. He remembers details no one else notices and indulges your whims in ways that are so subtle yet so profound that you do not realize how much he spoils you until you think about it.

— The little things he does to take care of you.

If you fight, your weapons are always in perfect condition—not because you asked, but because he made sure of it. There is no spectacle in the way he takes care of you, no unnecessary words or dramatic displays. He simply does. If you forget to eat, he will not scold or argue with you—he will place a plate in front of you, and he will not take no for an answer. If you are hurt, the entire world stops until it is taken care of. His hands—so accustomed to violence—become incredibly gentle when they touch you, his gloved fingers lifting your chin to examine even the smallest wounds. He does not make a fuss, does not overreact, but the tight set of his jaw says everything. His concern is silent but suffocating, woven into the very fabric of your life.

And if someone was the cause of your pain? That is an entirely different matter.

— His temper is controlled, but his rage is not.

Crocodile is not a man who acts on reckless emotion. He does not explode, does not waste his energy on unnecessary outbursts. His anger is quiet, cold, and patient. One glance from him can freeze a man where he stands, and a slow drag of his cigar is the only sign that he is deciding how to handle the situation. If someone hurts you—physically or emotionally—they will not know the moment they sealed their fate. There will be no warning. No second chances.

— He does not threaten. He does not need to.

Instead, things simply happen. Business partners disappear. “Accidents” occur. A man who dared to speak ill of you suddenly finds himself without allies, his empire crumbling beneath him. Revenge for him is easy, simple, effortless. He does not just remove problems—he erases them from existence as if they were never worth acknowledging in the first place.

And you? You do not even need to ask. By the time you mention the offense, it has already been dealt with.

— When he expresses his affection, it is with purpose.

Crocodile is not a man who wastes words. He does not say things he does not mean, and he certainly does not indulge in flowery phrases. But when he speaks to you, when his words are slow and measured, laced with something meant only for you—they carry weight.

“You are the only one who matters.”

Said in the dead of night, when the world is silent and his walls are at their lowest. His voice is rough, weary, but certain.

“I do not trust easily. You know that.”

A simple sentence, but the meaning behind it is undeniable.

And when he says “I love you”—on the rare occasions he does—it is never empty. Never casual. It is a statement, a fact, as unshakable as the empire he has built.

— He lets you in—truly in.

No one sees him as you do. No one sees past the Warlord, the businessman, the criminal. No one else knows what his silence truly means, what lingers behind those sharp amber eyes when no one else is looking. He is a man who does not trust, a man who has built his entire life on control, on keeping people at a distance.

— But you? You are different.

You see the rare moments when he is unguarded, when his head tilts back, eyes closed, exhaling a long breath as the tension drains from his body. When his hand—always gloved, always composed—finds its way to your waist, gripping just enough to remind himself that you are real. When he allows himself to sleep beside you, something he never does unless he is completely at ease.

To the world, he is untouchable. But to you? He is simply yours.

[fafnir19]

Rise of the Phoenix

The university's sauna was a sanctuary for Logan, a place to escape the relentless grind of his studies. He was a scrawny blond freshman, his pale skin and slender frame a stark contrast to the muscular athletes that dominated the campus. But Logan possessed a different kind of power—a brilliant mind that could dissect complex theories and solve problems that left others scratching their heads. Yet, his intelligence was a double-edged sword, isolating him from his peers who often seemed shallow and uninteresting. On this particular afternoon, Logan sought the familiar solace of the sauna, his books and notes temporarily abandoned. His blue eyes scanned the room, taking in the dimly lit sauna, the wooden benches, and the bucket of water with a ladle for pouring. The silence was soothing, allowing him to indulge in his thoughts without interruption. The hiss of the water on the hot stones and the occasional crackle of the wooden benches were soothing companions. The tranquility was interrupted by the arrival of a new presence. Logan lifted his head, his blue eyes adjusting to the dim light, and took in the sight of a young man with the build of a Greek statue. Short black hair, slick with sweat, framed a face that boasted a strong jawline. This newcomer, Trevor, was the polar opposite of Logan—a jock, no doubt, and probably not the brightest bulb on the tree.

Trevor's presence filled the small sauna, making it feel suddenly smaller. "Hey," he grunted, his deep voice echoing off the wooden walls. Logan nodded, unsure how to respond to this stranger. He wasn't used to socializing, especially not with someone like Trevor. Trevor, sensing the tension in the air, offered a nod and a friendly, " Mind if I join you?" His voice, though slightly hoarse, had a certain warmth to it. "Didn't expect to see anyone else in here." Logan, caught off guard by the unexpected company, mumbled a quiet "Sure," his voice almost lost in the hiss of the steam. He shifted on the bench, making room for Trevor, who sat down with a satisfied grunt. Then Trevor spoke again, his voice carrying a hint of desperation to fill the quiet. "So, uh, you a freshman too?" Logan's blue eyes were dull and without any interest in the conversation. "Yeah. Logan." "Trevor." The silence that followed was thick, heavy with the sound of their breathing and the occasional drip of condensation.

Trevor, sensing the awkwardness, attempted to make small talk, but his attempts fell flat. Logan, lost in his thoughts, offered little more than monosyllabic responses. Finally, Trevor hit upon a topic that sparked Logan's interest. "You know, it's not easy being a freshman. Everyone's trying to find their place." Logan's curiosity grew. He found himself wanting to engage in this unexpected conversation. "I know what you mean. It's like everyone's already formed their cliques, and we're left on the sidelines." "Heard about the Phoenix Order, man?" Trevor exclaimed, his voice echoing off the wooden walls. "They're looking for new pledges." At the mention of the Phoenix Order, Logan's eyes narrowed. "Those pretentious jerks? They're like the epitome of arrogance, always strutting around like they own the place. Who'd want to join them?" His voice carried a hint of disdain, a rare emotion showing on his usually stoic face. Trevor chuckled, a deep sound that filled the sauna. "Right? I mean, who do they think they are? Just because they've got the looks and the grades, they act like they're better than everyone else." Logan's tone turned bitter. " Yeah, especially that Aiden, with his silver-tongued charm and those skimpy satin shorts, always showing off his body. As if we don't get it, he's a Greek god."

Trevor chuckled, the sound deep and resonant. "Oh, him, thinks he's God's gift. I can't stand those types. Always got something to prove. But you know who I can't stand the most? Rhet. That guy acts like his intellect is some kind of divine gift. Makes me feel like a dumb jock, which I'm not, by the way. Just because I don't have my nose in a book 24/7 doesn't mean I'm stupid." Logan couldn't help but smile, his pale face softening. "Oh, Rhet. Aiden's little lapdog. Always following him around, nodding like a mindless puppet. I can't stand his know-it-all-attitude, like he's some kind of intellectual, but he's just a snob." Trevor's laughter filled the room, "Hah! I know, right?" ." Logan's joined in to Trevor’s laughter, a sound rarely heard from the reserved freshman, "Yeah, Aiden's got this peacock-like strut, always flaunting his chest and..." He blushed, realizing he was describing Aiden's prominent manhood. "Yeah, they're all style and no substance," Trevor agreed, his voice rising with confidence. "I mean, who do they think they are?" The sauna seemed to get hotter as their conversation grew more animated. Trevor's muscular frame glistened with sweat, and he wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "I mean, who would even want to join that frat?" Logan asked, his voice incredulous. "They're so full of themselves." "Yeah, it's like they're compensating for something," Trevor said, his laughter filling the small space. "Maybe they're not as confident as they seem." As they laughed, a strange camaraderie formed between them, two unlikely allies united in their disdain for the Phoenix Order. Their conversation flowed, a surprising ease settling between them. They gossiped, laughed, and revealed more about themselves than they intended. The sauna, a place of relaxation, had become a confessional of sorts, where two young men found common ground in their insecurities and shared disdain.

As their laughter subsided, a sudden realization hit them. The heat in the sauna had become unbearable. Logan stood up, wiping his palms on his towel. "Wow, it's hot. I think we should take a break." Trevor nodded, his face flushed. "Yeah, let's get out of here." They moved towards the door, but as Logan reached for the handle, his heart sank. "It's locked!" Panic filled Trevor's eyes. "What? No way!" They tried again, pulling and pushing with all their might, but the door remained stubbornly shut. The heat intensified, becoming oppressive. Logan's breath came in short gasps, his skin prickling with heat. "We've got to get out! It's too hot!" Logan's voice rose in desperation. "I'm trying, man, I'm trying!" Trevor banged on the door, his screams turning into moans as the heat scorched their skin. "Let us out! Oh God, it burns!" But it was too late. The sauna had become their inferno, flames licking at the wooden walls, the heat searing their lungs with every desperate breath. They screamed, their voices blending into a chorus of terror— "Help!" "Let us out!" "No, please!" But there was no escape. The fire consumed them, their bodies burning until they crumbled into ash, leaving two small piles on the sauna floor.

Hours later, Logan's and Trevor’s remains were discovered by two members of the Phoenix Order, their eyes gleaming with a sinister light at the scene before them. One knelt down to the ashes, his eyes narrowing in satisfaction. "Perfect. Just what we need." The other, tall and lean, with a condescending smirk, joined him. "Indeed. A fresh start for our little experiment." They collected the ashes, mixing them together in a small pouch.

In the cool evening air, the Phoenix Order gathered in their fraternity house, their laughter and voices echoing through the halls. Aiden, his silver-grey satin shorts and velvet jacket shimmering in the dim light, held a small pouch in his hands. He smiled, his white teeth flashing in the darkness. "Tonight, brothers, we initiate two new pledges. This pouch of ashes will fuel our ritual, ensuring our dominance on campus." The other frat brothers cheered, their voices filled with anticipation.

Aiden stepped into a circle of glowing runes, the ash from the pouch forming a small pile in the center. He began to chant, his voice deep and hypnotic. "Oh, ancient powers, hear our call. Bless these ashes, transform them all. From humble remains, let rise anew, loyal brothers, devoted to you." The room fell silent, save for the sound of Aiden's rhythmic chant. His hand moved to his crotch, stroking the bulge in his shorts as he continued the ritual. The fabric strained against his erection, and with a smooth motion, Aiden freed his cock, the satin shorts sliding down his thighs. "Oh, the power grows, the ritual shows. As I spill my seed, let the ashes heed." Aiden's chant was punctuated by the sound of his hand pumping his shaft, the slap of skin on skin filling the room. His eyes closed in ecstasy as he climaxed, his warm cum shooting onto the ash, igniting an explosion of flames. In that instant, a pillar of flame erupted, a fiery tornado spinning wildly.

From the heart of the fire, a figure emerged, its body taking shape amidst the dancing flames. It was Logan, but not as he had been before. His physique had changed, now boasting lean, toned muscles that rippled beneath smooth skin. He stood taller, his posture exuding a newfound confidence. As the flames licked at his body, Logan's eyes flickered open, revealing a changed consciousness. "Ah, you're awake," Aiden's voice cut through the haze, his tone laced with satisfaction. "What... what happened?" Logan's voice was hoarse, his throat dry from the heat. "You're reborn, my friend," Aiden replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "And you look damn good."

Logan's attention was immediately drawn to Aiden, and he felt a strange sensation. Aiden's signature style, the satin shorts and velvet jacket, which he had once found pretentious, now held an undeniable allure. The fabric's sheen seemed to beckon him, and Logan couldn't tear his eyes away. As if in response to his thoughts, the flames caressed his body, weaving a pair of satin shorts around his slender hips. The fabric was like a lover's touch, sending shivers of pleasure through him. His cock began to stir, growing harder by the second, and the shorts showcased his lengthening shaft. "Oh, you like that, don't you?" Aiden's voice was a low purr. Logan could only nod and a smirk played on his lips while the satin stimulated his glans. "Ah, the allure of satin," he moaned, his voice dripping with newfound arrogance. "I understand now, Aiden." The velvet blazer settled around his shoulders and the flames receded, leaving him standing as a new man.

"Logan," Aiden's voice cut through the haze of the ritual, "do you want to pledge for our fraternity, the Order of the Phoenix?" Logan's mind, once a bastion of intellect, now buzzed with a different kind of power. He felt a connection to Aiden, a bond he couldn't explain. "Yes," he heard himself say, the word echoing in his mind. "I pledge myself to the Order." As the words left his mouth, his thoughts shifted, aligning with Aiden's. The old Logan, with his insecurities and intelligence, faded into the background. He was now a creature of confidence and vanity, a reflection of Aiden's own persona. Aiden's hand rested on his shoulder, a possessive gesture. "Welcome to the frat, little bro. You're one of us now." Logan's grin mirrored Aiden's, a picture of devotion and admiration. He turned his head and noticed another circle nearby, where Rhet, Aiden's right-hand man, was engaged in a similar ritual. Trevor's body was being reformed, his muscles not as pronounced as before, but still exuding an attractive, statuesque quality. Logan felt a twinge of recognition, knowing that Trevor had been through the same transformation. "The combination of Logan's brains and Trevor's brawn was a stroke of genius," Rhet remarked, his voice carrying across the room. "Indeed. They'll make excellent pledges. And their devotion is already evident," Aiden replied, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. Logan's heart swelled with pride at the thought of being a part of this brotherhood. The two new pledges stood side by side, their eyes now filled with admiration for their respective initiators. Devotion - That's what Logan felt as he looked at Aiden. He wanted to follow, to learn, and to become everything that Aiden represented. And Trevor, now under Rhet's wing, seemed to feel the same, a silent understanding passing between them.

Over the next few weeks, Aiden took Logan under his wing, introducing him to the ways of the fraternity and the intricacies of field hockey. Logan proved to be a quick study, his natural intelligence and newfound athleticism making him a formidable player.

Every day, Logan felt himself becoming more like Aiden. He adopted his mannerisms, his charm, and his confidence. The satin shorts and velvet blazer became his uniform, and he wore them with pride, embracing the sensation of the fabric against his skin. Trevor, too, was changing. He spent his days with Rhet, learning the ways of the frat. His intelligence grew, and he became more articulate and Logan's trusted sidekick.

The transformation was complete. The once-scrawny nerd and the muscle-bound jock had merged into a perfect blend, their former selves a distant memory. They strutted through the halls with an air of superiority, their laughter echoing off the walls, a testament to their newfound arrogance. "Can you believe we used to hate these guys?" Logan chuckled, his eyes scanning the admiring glances of their fellow students. Trevor shook his head, his face a mask of disbelief. "I know, right? I mean, look at us now. We're the epitome of what we despised." "But it feels good, doesn't it?" Logan's eyes sparkled with mischief. "The power, the respect, and let's not forget the satin shorts." They shared a laugh, a bond forged in fire and transformation. Logan and Trevor, now brothers in more ways than one, had become the very jerks they had once sworn to detest. But in their new reality, it all made a twisted kind of sense. As they walked away, their laughter fading into the distance, one thing was clear: the Phoenix Order had claimed two new souls, and the campus would never be the same again.

[chheolie]

i think you might be a little disappointed that they are divorced, so here is the second part

it was a quiet morning, and the sun had barely risen on the horizon when you grabbed your phone to check the messages. as you swiped the screen, one notification caught your attention: "reminder: trip to the beach house - d/n’s birthday." your heart tightened as you read those words. the beach house had always been a special place, full of happy memories, but it also held painful ones, especially from the last trip where you and seungcheol were together as a couple. it was there that your relationship came to an end.

even so, you knew that this trip was important, especially for your daughter, who loved that place more than anywhere else. with a deep sigh, you decided to send a message to seungcheol, something you had been putting off for days, fearing what he might say.

"are you going on the trip?" you wrote, hesitantly, feeling the weight of uncertainty in your words.

minutes that felt like hours passed before his reply arrived. when the phone vibrated, you opened the message with a nervousness you couldn’t hide.

"yes, it’s important for her." his words were direct, but they carried a responsibility that both of you shared. although your marriage had ended, the love for your daughter continued to bind you together in an unbreakable way.

on the day of the trip, seungcheol arrived at your house to pick you up. your daughter, as excited as always, ran into her father’s arms with contagious joy. her smile upon seeing him left no doubt that this trip meant a lot to her. as you watched the scene, a mix of emotions washed over you. it was good to see them together, but his presence always brought back memories of what you had lost.

during the drive to the beach house, the atmosphere in the car was strange. your daughter talked nonstop, excited about the weekend plans, but you and seungcheol barely exchanged words. it was hard to ignore the weight of the past, especially knowing that the last time you were at that house as a family was also when you decided to go your separate ways.

when you finally arrived, your daughter ran inside the house, exploring each room as if it was her first time there. for her, that place would always be magical, full of good memories. you and seungcheol began unloading the car in silence, exchanging brief and uncomfortable glances. neither of you knew quite how to act. the silence was almost suffocating, and both seemed hesitant to say anything that might open old wounds.

the next morning, you woke up early, with the first rays of sunlight gently illuminating the house. there was a quiet stillness in the air, broken only by the soft sound of the waves. as you stepped out of the bedroom, you found seungcheol already awake, sitting on the porch with a cup of coffee in his hands. he seemed thoughtful, lost in his own thoughts. for a moment, you considered going back to the bedroom, but you decided to join him, feeling that perhaps it was the right time to talk about what you both had been avoiding for so long.

sitting beside him, you felt the weight of the silence between you, but also a strange sense of peace. the smell of coffee mixed with the salty sea breeze, creating a nostalgic atmosphere. it was then that memories of the last trip came flooding back. you looked out at the horizon, trying to find the right words.

"it was here that everything fell apart, wasn’t it?" your voice came out low, almost fearful, as if reliving that moment could bring back all the pain you had worked so hard to overcome.

seungcheol sighed deeply, without taking his eyes off the sea. "yes, it was here. and i still think about that day, about the things i could have done differently. not a day goes by without me asking myself where exactly things started to go wrong."

his words hit you in a way you didn’t expect. there was so much regret in his voice, a pain that mirrored your own. "i think about that too... about how everything could have been different. but i think that at the time, we were both so lost, trying to find our own way, that we ended up drifting apart. i felt so alone, even when you were around. like there was an invisible barrier between us."

he turned to you, his eyes showing a vulnerability he rarely let show. "i never wanted to make you feel that way, y/n. but i was so focused on work, on fulfilling all the responsibilities, that i ended up losing you in the process. i didn’t know how to handle the pressure, and it destroyed us."

before the conversation could deepen further, the soft sound of footsteps coming from the bedroom interrupted the moment. your daughter had woken up, bringing with her the vibrant energy of a child full of expectations for the day. seungcheol stood up with a smile, offering to take her for a walk while you stayed home, resting and processing everything that had been said.

hours later, when seungcheol and your daughter returned, you greeted them with a smile, noticing that they were carrying bags of food. your daughter ran up to you, her eyes shining with excitement. "mommy! look what we brought! we got your favorite dessert!" she exclaimed, barely able to contain her excitement.

you looked at seungcheol, who gave you a knowing smile, and felt a lump form in your throat. that simple gesture, but full of care, moved you in a way you didn’t expect. for a moment, all the repressed emotions came to the surface, and you found yourself struggling to hold back the tears. but it was useless. the tears began to fall, and you tried to disguise it, smiling at your daughter so she wouldn’t notice.

seungcheol noticed immediately and approached, concerned. "hey, are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice full of care as he reached out to hold your hand.

you nodded, though your voice faltered as you tried to respond. "yes... it’s just that... this means a lot to me. you both mean a lot to me."

he gently squeezed your hand, his eyes fixed on yours as if he wanted to say something but was choosing his words carefully. the moment was delicate, full of unspoken emotions and feelings that you both were trying to process.

the afternoon unfolded in a series of joyful and simple moments. you cooked together, played on the beach, and for a moment, everything felt like it used to. your daughter’s laughter echoed through the house, and you felt that maybe, just maybe, the weight of the past was finally starting to lift. the atmosphere was light, and it was hard to believe that just a few hours ago, you were so nervous about spending the weekend with him.

when the evening came, you prepared the small birthday party with all the love you could muster. your daughter was radiant, and the house was filled with laughter and music. the table was loaded with sweets and snacks that you had prepared together, and the cake, decorated in her favorite colors, sat in the center, waiting to be cut.

you sang "happy birthday," and the smile on your daughter’s face as she blew out the candles was the highlight of the night. she closed her eyes tightly, making a wish, and then, with a determined puff, blew out the candles. the applause and cheers of "hurray!" echoed through the house, and for a moment, everything seemed perfect. you and seungcheol exchanged glances during the celebration, and there was something in his eyes that you hadn’t seen in a long time—tenderness and affection that warmed your heart.

after dinner, with full bellies and light hearts, your daughter finally began to show signs of fatigue. she yawned and rubbed her eyes, making you and seungcheol laugh. "i think it’s time for bed, little one," you said softly, as you picked her up, feeling the comforting weight of her against your chest.

seungcheol followed you to her room, where you both tucked her into bed. she snuggled into the blankets, the smile still present on her lips. "it was the best birthday ever," she murmured before closing her eyes and falling asleep. you both stood there in silence for a moment, watching her sleep, both feeling a mix of emotions—love, nostalgia, and something more, something that was bringing you closer again.

when you left the room, the silence that followed was filled with tension, but it wasn’t a bad tension. it was a tension full of possibilities, of things left unsaid. seungcheol closed the door softly, then turned to you. "she was so happy today. thank you for this, y/n."

"i was happy too, cheol," you replied, the nickname slipping out before you could stop it. he had always been "cheol" to you, and in that moment, it felt natural to call him that again.

he smiled, a smile that warmed something inside you. "i missed you," he admitted, his voice low and sincere. "not just because of our daughter, but... you. i missed us."

his words hung in the air, and you knew the moment had come. everything that had been repressed, all the unspoken words and hidden emotions, began to surface. "i missed you too," you confessed, your voice shaky. "but i was so scared, seungcheol... scared that we’d make the same mistakes again."

he took a step towards you, stopping just inches away. "i know i made mistakes, and i’m sorry for all of them. but i never stopped loving you, not for a second. and today, seeing our daughter so happy, here with you... i realized there’s still something between us, something that might be worth fighting for."

you felt your heart race at his words, at the way he was looking at you with such intensity. "are you saying... you want to try again?"

"yes," he whispered, reaching out to gently cup your face. "i want to try again. i want to be a family again. if you still want that too."

tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded, unable to speak. instead, you closed the distance between you, leaning in until your lips met his. the kiss was soft, tentative, but it held the promise of so much more—a new beginning, a second chance. your bodies molded to one another with an ease that felt natural, as if all the scars and distances between you had never existed.

seungcheol pulled you closer, his hands firmly gripping your waist, and you found yourself sinking into that familiar, comforting feeling where the world around you ceased to matter. the warmth of your bodies, the feel of his touch against your skin, all of it stirred memories of times before the divorce, when you were inseparable, when the problems had not yet overshadowed the love you shared.

as the kiss deepened, the passion between the two of you reignited in an almost desperate way, as if you were trying to make up for all the lost time. seungcheol's hands traveled up your back, exploring every curve he knew so well, while you held his face, feeling the softness of his skin under your fingers. there was an urgency in his movements, as if he were trying to imprint himself in your memory, and you felt the same desire to make him understand just how much he still meant to you.

when you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, but neither of you moved away. seungcheol rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, while his fingers remained tangled in your hair. the silence between the two of you was filled with rapid breaths and the sound of hearts beating in unison, as if both of you were trying to absorb what had just happened.

"i love you, y/n. i always have," he whispered, his voice husky with emotion, the truth of his words echoing in the space between you.

you felt tears welling up again, but this time they were not of sadness, but of relief, of a renewed hope seeping into your heart. "i love you too, seungcheol. i always have. but i need to know that we won't lose ourselves again."

he opened his eyes, and what you saw there was a determination you had never seen before. his eyes, dark and intense, showed the depth of what he was feeling, the gravity of the moment. "we won't, y/n," he promised, his voice low but filled with conviction. "we'll do this right, together. for us and for our daughter. i won't let you fall again."

the intensity of his declaration made your heart pound harder. you were there, in a vulnerable place, but it was exactly what you both needed—to remember how perfectly you fit, how you were made for each other, and how, despite everything, that love still existed and was strong enough to survive.

the night continued, not with more words, but with gestures. you both let the feelings speak for themselves, rediscovering each other slowly and carefully. seungcheol's hands traced your contours as if he were rediscovering familiar territory, and at the same time, something entirely new. each touch, each caress, reignited something within you both, an old desire that had never disappeared, only lain dormant.

the intimacy between you was familiar, but there was a new layer of depth, an understanding that both of you had changed and grown, and that now you were ready to try again. the walls you had built, the hurts of the past, all seemed to vanish as you gave yourselves to one another.

when you finally nestled in bed, with seungcheol's arms firmly around you, something inside you settled. his chest was the safe haven you had lost, the place where all your fears and uncertainties seemed to disappear. the past was there, yes, but the future seemed brighter than ever, as if all the broken pieces were finally falling into place.

for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to believe that everything would be alright. seungcheol was by your side, and you knew that together, you could overcome anything. he kissed your forehead softly, and the warmth of his touch was the confirmation that this was where you had always meant to be.

i think you would like to be informed that the second part is available. thank you for your support and patience, by the way. ( @kkkthrn @coupsbestleader @minhui896 @bouclesdefeu @lanatheawesome )

[morimemichael]

Jealousy

Slashers reaction to their s/o flirting with someone else/getting compliments from someone else.

This goes for OG!Michael, RZ!Michael, Brahms, Ghostface (Stu), Pyramid Head

WG: jealousy issues, doubtful behavior, a little gore, some NSFW, dev!consent?¿ apart from that I’ll try to include some fluff too (cause I can’t live without it :’D)

OG!Michael

You’d be mesmerized to know how many things Michael can know or find out about you.

That’s how he found out you were extra friendly with a coworker.

Maybe he hasn’t made it clear, but he didn’t have any intentions to share you with other men.

You were his and his alone.

Something inside him snap when he saw your lips kissing goodbye on this guy’s cheek.

To you was something insignificant, but to him?

Ohh boy…

He was jealous.

No need to mention that Michael slaughtered this poor guy.

He got home with you, disappointed, and a little sad for what he saw today.

You were starting to wonder where he was, it was already dark and you hadn’t seen him in all day.

Your question was answered when you felt a large hand going up your back, straight to the back of your neck.

His breathing low and steady as always.

His hand grabbed the back of your neck and squeezed it a little bit, making you move away from the kitchen, but not so far.

“Hey, Michael! Missed u today, where u been?” You asked him, not being aware that he spent almost all day stalking you

He didn’t reply, instead he moved his hand upward and grabbed you by the hair this time, tucking at it so he could whisper in your ear

“That hurts!” You yelled at him, but he didn’t care. You tried to reach his hand holding your hair, but with his free hand he catches yours and puts it behind your back twisting it.

“What the hell is wrong with you!?”

He tucked at your again in protest

Then you realized that he might have been stalking you throughout the day and saw that little interaction between you and your male coworker. It must be that right?

“I’m s-sorry Michael, I’m sorry, it’s not gonna happen again.” You apologized.

He lowered his head so it leveled with your right ear.

“Mine.” He whispered, his voice raspy but clear. “Say it.”

“Ok…ok, I’m yours. Only yours…” You swore. He let you go, your hands reaching the cold marble of the kitchen.

Latter that night when you both went to sleep, he apologized for the way he treated you earlier.

RZ!Michael

Things with Michael turn different when he’s jealous. First things first, sometimes you can’t tell if he’s jealous or not cause his behavior it’s almost pretty much the same.

You both know each other since you were 9yo. You were the only one who used to play with him, and he’s thankful for that. But your heart was torn apart when he committed that awful crime. You knew his sister and father were shitty, but you never expected Michael to kill them.

When you found out he scaped the mental hospital he was being kept, something inside of you wanted Michael to come see you. You weren’t so wrong after all.

So it’s been a couple of weeks since he’s staying with you, and you know better than to ask him where he goes at night, leaving you alone in the house.

There was this particular time when your ex stopped by and stayed for lunch when Michael was out stalking, as usual. Or so you thought. Turns out that he decided to stalk you this time, and when he saw this foreign man to his knowledge, he snapped.

You didn’t had time to even serve lunch when you heard your ex screaming. “Holy shit!” And he sounded in pain too.

When you came back to the living room Michael had stabbed your ex’s hand to the wooden table that was already prepared to eat.

“Michael…please.., he’s my ex.”

Michael wasn’t sure of your words, so he pulled out painfully the kitchen knife of your poor ex’s hand, a pained moan scaped his mouth. The he grabbed the doomed guy by his neck and looked at you again.

“Michael, Michael, please…I swear he’s my ex. Please!!!” You begged him.

Michael decided enough was enough and let your ex go, but not before pointing you to go upstairs with his knife. You obeyed.

Once you both were there he grabbed you by the throat this time and squeezed a little bit. Now you were scared. He tucked a little bit just to let you know that if he want to, he could kill you any minute.

He bend you over the edge of the bed so your stomach was facing towards the bed, and your ass up.

“how romantic” You mocked. To be honest this wasn’t the first time you two fucked. But this? Holy fuck, this was totally different. You weren’t even sure if you’re disliking this.

“I’m not sharing.” He growled at your ear. He took out your pijamas and panties with one hand, with the other he took out his mask. He positioned himself with your entrance. Spit a little bit his cock to use it as lube.

He grabbed you by your neck again and put it the tip of his cock.

“Michael, I’m not even-” You protested, reaching your right hand to his leg to try to stop him, but he grabbed it and pulled it against him so you were closer to his chest.

“Shut up, and fucking take it.” That’s all he said before thrusting all the way into you. He set a brutal pace and all he could hear was your screams and moans of pleasure.

“Fu-uck Michael!! Don’t stop, don’t stop!!” You moaned. He got closer to your ear again.

“This is what you get for making me jealous.”

You thought you could make him jealous more often.

BRAMHS HEELSHIRE

“Brahms!” You moan your lungs out. He had you lay down facing the bed, and now he was fingering you like his life depends on that.

And all for what? Well, you told Malcom earlier that he had a nice hair cut today. Apparently, Brahms didn’t like that.

He slapped your ass with his free hand “Your mine, mine!” He growled on your ear.

“Okay…okay, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah…I bet you are.” He stated, his fingers moving faster now.

You were reaching the point of your climax when he stopped, and pulled at your hair.

“You wanna cum?” He asked. You nod and hummed. “Well, beg for it.” He slapped your ass again.

“Please…I’m so close.” You begged vaguely.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” He replied, voice deeper now, filled with pure lust.

“Brahms, please…please I wa-I need to cum, please! I won’t do it again I promise!”

His fingers thrusting into your core in a brutal animalistic way. That was enough to make you cum that night.

Once you were finish he grabbed you by the hair again and said “if I see you again with him, his dead. You hear me?” He question.

“Yeah-yeah.” That’s all that would come out from your mouth.

PYRAMID HEAD

This big guy had never talked and never will, so if something just bothers him he will let you know in other ways.

Like when, for example, James complimented your bracelet one day. He was pissed, but he didn’t say anything, not that he could. So what did he do instead?

Well, he fallowed James all around Silent Hill making his life more miserable if that’s was even possible.

You weren’t exactly pissed at his behavior but you certainly didn’t like it. So next time he sees you you’ll let him know.

To your fortune that time was right now.

“Is tormenting James even necessary, Pyramid?” You asked annoyed.

He lowers his head and shakes no.

“So, why are you doing it?” He couldn’t answer you knew it so you asked him again. “Is it because you’re jealous of James?”

He shakes his head no several times, trying to hide the obvious feeling .

“Yeah…you definitely are.” You said.

He lowered his head again and was ready to leave when you grabbed his large hand.

“You can stay, it’s okay. It happens.” You smiled at him. From under his large pyramid, something like a tentacle came out to caress your chin.

“Promise me you won’t do it again, ok?”

He just nods and walk away peacefully.

GHOSTFACE

Since you two finished watching that movie, you wouldn’t stop talking about the killer.

How he was using a kitchen knife to kill people on the movie, or how he used his own hands to choke someone. You could notably see he was pissed at your comments of appreciation.

“Oh come on! I’m just messing around!” You laughed at him. He couldn’t be mad just because of that right?

“Well, go messing around Michael Myers then, perhaps he will burie his knife in you.” Stu said back.

“Stu come on! It’s just a movie!” You laughed a little bit

“If it’s just a movie don’t make me jealous!” He confessed.

“Jealous?” You giggle, then tried to hug him.

“N-no, no, you go hug Michael, he needs it more than I do.” Stu’s voice faking a sad tone. “Or go kiss his mask instead, cause apparently you don’t like mine anymore….ouch.” He continued.

“Well, if you say so…then I’m heading to Haddonfield then!” You said smiling to wait his reaction.

“No babe, don’t leave, I was just kidding.” He pouted, grabbing your hand so you wouldn’t leave.

“Ok..I promise to not saying anything like that again about Michael, if you promise to not get jealous.” You offered.

“Deal.” Stu replied smiling.

“I’m starving, wanna order some pizza?” He offered.

“Hell yeah.” You said, pizza didn’t sound that bad.

“Besides…I like your costume better.” You confessed.

“Ohh…” Stu was flattered, and couldn’t help but blush a little bit.

After that, you ate your pizza and cuddle all night, you being the smaller spoon. You quickly fell asleep in Stu’s warm arms.

Well I needed a little bit of humor with ghostie okay? 😭 I hope you liked it! See ya around 😊

[iamgonnagetyouback]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀────۶ৎ what are these feelings?

synopsis: charlie dalton flirts with everyone, including you, and you always sass him back—until one day, you blush. now you're confused, todd is no help, and when keating assigns a poetry presentation, you pour all your feelings into a poem content warnings: angst, self-doubt

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 1,039

You were used to it by now—Charlie Dalton’s constant flirting, his smooth lines, the way his hazel eyes gleamed when he was about to say something utterly ridiculous. And you? Well, you never let him get away with it, always armed with some witty comeback that made the boys around you laugh.

"Hey, beautiful, ever wonder what it’s like to kiss a poet?" Charlie smirked, his voice dripping with that usual arrogance.

You raised an eyebrow, rolling your eyes. "Not quite. Maybe I should kiss Todd and find out?"

The boys howled in laughter, Todd burying his face in his hands as Neil playfully nudged Charlie’s shoulder. But, as usual, Charlie wasn’t fazed. He only leaned closer, mischief dancing in his eyes.

"You know," he said, voice lower, "one day you’re gonna run out of sass and finally admit you’re in love with me."

You opened your mouth, prepared to give the perfect retort, when something strange happened. Your cheeks grew warm. No, scratch that—they were on fire. You blinked, suddenly hyper-aware of how close Charlie was standing, how his teasing smile wasn’t just playful anymore, how his eyes were fixed on you, waiting.

What the hell? Why were you blushing?

You quickly muttered something half-baked, barely coherent, and walked away before Charlie could notice the redness that had surely taken over your face. You didn’t understand. You had always been able to brush him off, but now, for some reason, your heart was racing like it was trying to beat out of your chest.

This was new. And horrible.

What was worse? Charlie had noticed. His teasing eyes followed you all day, smirking like he knew something you didn’t. It was unbearable.

You needed help. Desperately.

So, naturally, you sought out the only person who could possibly understand your predicament—Todd Anderson.

It wasn’t hard to find him. Todd was sitting on the lawn by the lake, writing something in his notebook while Neil was off trying to convince Knox to join his latest idea. You marched over, sitting down in front of him without ceremony.

“Todd,” you said, a bit more forcefully than intended.

He looked up, startled. "Yeah?"

"I need your help. It’s about Charlie."

Todd’s eyes widened. "Charlie?" His voice squeaked a little, and his hand twitched, as if just mentioning Charlie’s name brought anxiety. You could relate.

You groaned. “I think I’m broken or something because today, he said something to me, and I—I blushed, Todd. I blushed. Do you have any idea how horrifying that is?”

Todd’s face softened, but he looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Uh, maybe it’s not so bad?” he offered, weakly.

You groaned, collapsing backward on the grass. "It is bad. It’s very bad. You know what it’s like. You blush when Neil says… anything remotely nice to you. What does it mean? Am I… Am I in love with Charlie Dalton?"

Todd hesitated, his face growing red at the mention of Neil. "I don’t know," he mumbled. "Maybe. Or maybe he just got to you. He flirts with everyone… right?"

That hit you like a punch to the gut. You threw your head back, laughing, but there was no real humor in it. “Yeah,” you muttered, a bitter taste creeping into your mouth. “Yeah, exactly.”

He flirts with everyone. Why was this any different?

Why did it suddenly matter?

"But it never bothered me before. Why now?"

Todd looked down at his notebook, fiddling with the pages. "Sometimes," he said quietly, "it hits you when you least expect it."

His words stuck with you, echoing in your mind all day, all night. Hits you when you least expect it. Could that really be true? Could you—no, you weren’t about to fall for Charlie Dalton, of all people.

The next day, Mr. Keating announced a new assignment: "Each of you will present an original poem tomorrow. A poem that reveals a part of yourself you keep hidden."

Great. Exactly what you needed.

The whole evening, you tried to write something, but every word felt forced, every line too… wrong. How were you supposed to write about a feeling you didn’t even understand? You stared at the page, and the only thing that came to mind was Charlie. His grin. His stupid, smug face. The way your stomach twisted every time he called you "beautiful" now.

So, you did the only thing you could think of. You wrote.

The next morning, you walked into Keating’s class with your heart in your throat, clutching the folded piece of paper as if it would burn you.

“Ah, (Y/N),” Mr. Keating greeted warmly. “Ready to share with us?”

“Not really,” you muttered, but stepped forward anyway. The boys were watching, but most of all—Charlie was watching, leaning back in his chair with that lazy grin you hated. No. You didn’t hate it anymore. That was the problem.

You unfolded the paper and took a deep breath.

“A boy with words like arrows, Sharp and playful, but always shallow. Until one day, his arrows land, Not in jest, but in my hand.

How do you laugh when you’re struck? How do you breathe with no air? What do you do when the jokes stop feeling like jokes, And start feeling like… something else?”

Your voice faltered, but you kept going, feeling all the confusion and frustration pour out.

“The world tips sideways, Colors all wrong. Why does he make me stutter? Why do I feel like I’m walking on a tightrope, One wrong word from falling into his arms?”

The room was quiet now. You could feel every pair of eyes on you, but none more than Charlie’s. You didn’t dare look up.

“Maybe this is what love feels like: Messy, sharp, unexpected, Like an arrow in the dark.”

Your eyes met Charlie’s, and for the first time in a while, there was no teasing in his gaze. He looked... serious.

Todd gave you a small, supportive smile as the silence hung in the air. And then, without saying anything, you took your seat.

But the confusion? It remained. Maybe you’d never understand it. Maybe it didn’t even matter if Charlie flirted with everyone.

What mattered now was how you felt.

© iamgonnagetyouback ⋆.˚ please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work.

[angstama]

03: traitor | l.jn

pairing: lee jeno x f!reader (ft. mark lee)

genre: angst, pure heartache, slight fluff!

synopsis — when jeno asked you to make his bride’s dress, it was more than fabric and lace—it was a reckoning. you never thought you'd be asked to create the wedding dress for the man you once loved, not after everything that had happened between the two of you. five years have passed since jeno walked out of your life, and now, he stands before you again—asking for a favour that stirs old memories and emotions you've tried to bury.

a/n: part 3??? once again thank you so much for the love that 'traitor' is receiving :") i really appreciate each and every comment, reblog and like towards this little story that i created :")))) stay tuned for part 4!!!!!

traitor m.list | traitor's playlist | previous | next chapter (04)

the first consultation left jeno with a weight in his chest he couldn’t quite name. it wasn’t regret, not entirely. and it wasn’t longing in the way it once was. but it was something — something heavy and lingering, gnawing at the edges of his heart.

he wasn’t going to pursue you again. he knew where his heart stood now, grounded firmly in the love he had for wheein. but that didn’t mean his heart didn’t stir when he saw you — not with desire, but with a soft ache. a quiet mourning for what once was.

because once, you were it. the love of his life. he’d spent seven years loving you — not passively, but fiercely, intentionally. he’d built dreams with you. shared the kind of laughter that echoed for days. crafted a future in his mind that only ever had your name in it.

and now here you were, across from him — still you, but different. stronger. quieter. and the space between you held all the words never said.

it made him wonder if the past ever truly lets go, or if it simply learns how to hide in the corners of the present.

they say time heals all wounds.

but you’ve come to believe that’s just a blatant lie that people tell to survive the ache. because here you were — five years later — and the love you held for jeno still lived in you like a ghost that refused to leave.

even after he left.

even after he fell for someone else.

even now, as he stood on the edge of a new beginning with another woman, you still found yourself wanting to give him everything. crazy right? which person of sound mind would ever do that to themselves but you?

"are you still working on the tux?” mark yawned, stretching his arms high above his head, trying to shake off the lingering sleepiness. the quiet of the studio had been comforting, but the hours had stretched on longer than either of you expected. you hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed.

you’d spent the past month working with him, revising and refining the sketches—endless pages filled with designs that you hoped would perfectly suit jeno. it wasn’t that creating the tuxedo was hard. you knew exactly what would look best on him. but each time you made a change, you couldn’t help but picture something more—something just a little bit better, a little more perfect in your mind. it was as if the closer you got to finishing, the more you realised how many parts of jeno still stayed with you, even in the smallest details. and with every new sketch, you found yourself imagining him wearing it, lost in the quiet ache of a love that would never quite leave.

"it can be better," you muttered under your breath, lips pursed as you stared at the sketches sprawled out before you. frustration bubbled within, and you couldn’t help but feel a little defeated by the progress—or lack thereof—that you'd made in the past hour. it felt like every line you drew was a step backward, not forward. damn this is why you hardly ever design suits.

"i don’t doubt that," mark said, drawing in a long breath, his gaze shifting from the sketches to you. "but i think you could really use a break, y/n."

he walked over to your desk, his eyes scanning the mess of papers, fabric swatches, and unfinished designs scattered across the table. it was a familiar sight—your chaotic process whenever inspiration hit, though tonight it seemed to be weighing on you more than usual.

"you think so?" you asked, surprised by your own agreement. usually, you’d protest, stubbornly pushing forward through the frustration, but something about mark’s calm presence made you pause.

he nodded, his expression soft but knowing, then glanced at the clock. "you haven’t eaten anything in hours," he pointed out, catching the subtle signs—the slight paleness in your face and the tiredness settling in your eyes. "how about supper? not gonna lie i'm seriously craving a mega cheeseburger."

you hadn’t realized how long it had been since your last meal, and the thought of a warm, simple meal felt oddly comforting in the moment. you hesitated, then gave a small, grateful nod. “yeah… cheeseburger sounds good.”

you and mark made your way to the nearest burger joint down the road, the familiar scent of sizzling patties and greasy goodness greeting you as soon as you stepped inside. it wasn’t overwhelming, but it still hit you with a sense of familiarity. it was a scent you’d grown accustomed to—one that marked the many little victories you and mark had shared over the years. this very place had become a kind of tradition for the two of you, a spot to celebrate the little triumphs of your small bridal studio.

"here," mark places your cup of iced lemon tea in front of you, his hands automatically bending the sippy straw into the curve you always prefer, as if it were second nature to him. without a word, he wipes the condensation off the cup and sets it back on the coaster, exactly the way you always do. you watched him in surprise, it's something you hadn't realised he paid attention to, these small gestures, until now.

and that realisation made something clicked inside of you. "oh god, i'm a mess aren't i?" you gasped, burying your face in your hands as you finally snapped out of your little torture bubble. "wh-what? no, of course not! what made you say that?" mark panicked, clearly caught off guard, his eyes wide with concern. he had no idea where this sudden wave of emotion was coming from.

"i'm such a mess... i can't even set my own drink down properly. i can't for the love of god properly design a tux for him." you started spiralling as the weight of everything hit you all at once. and suddenly, it wasn't about mark's little gestures anymore; it was about the overwhelming pressure you had placed on yourself to make everything perfect for jeno and living through it.

mark’s gaze softened, his usual calm demeanor shifting as he quickly slid out of the booth and moved to sit next to you. "hey, hey, hold on," he said gently. "it’s just force of habit for me, okay? nothing personal." he chuckled softly, his eyes searching for any sign of tears as he peered through the strands of hair that had fallen over your face. when he saw that you weren’t crying, he relaxed a little, but the concern never left him.

"about the tux," he continued, his tone steady, "you're the best damn designer i know." he gave you a small, reassuring smile. "i think it looks great. but i know you, you’ve got your own vision. just... don’t be so hard on yourself." his expression shifted, like a sudden thought had struck him, and his voice turned a little more serious way but also in a lighthearted tone. "honestly, though… why did you even take this on if you knew it was gonna hurt you this much?"

you sat there for a moment, mark’s words replaying in your head. why did you take this on? you weren't sure you had the answer, but you felt like you should. mark's eyes softened, but he raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

"i mean, really," mark said, leaning back with a playful smirk. "if it was anyone else, i'd say they’ve completely lost it. taking on the wedding tux and gown for a former love... that's some next-level madness. are you sure you're not just trying to outdo yourself and win the 'world's most emotionally tortured designer' award?"

you couldn’t help but chuckle at his attempt to break the tension, but it didn’t make the heaviness in your chest go away. still, you couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous it all sounded.

"yeah, maybe i'm a glutton for punishment," you said with a dry laugh. "maybe i thought if i could design the perfect tux for him, i could somehow undo all the messy stuff from the past." you shook your head, the absurdity of it all sinking in. "but let’s be honest, who am i kidding? i’m no harry potter."

mark nodded dramatically, a sarcastic grin on his face. you noted that this was pretty much one of the rare moments that mark had showcased his witty side, different from his usual sense of calmness, and you appreciated it. “well, i'm sure you can be a lot of things, but harry potter? not in this lifetime.” he gave you a gentle nudge with his elbow. “but seriously, the fact that you're still putting your heart into this whole thing, even with all the chaos? that’s something you should be proud of. not everyone has that kind of heart.”

you looked at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. it was still lighthearted, but there was truth beneath his words that made it hit differently.

“you think so?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“oh, absolutely,” he replied, “but next time, maybe pick a project that doesn’t involve, you know, exes. that might be a good place to start.”

you grinned at his teasing, feeling the weight in your chest ease just a little bit. "noted. no more exes and tuxedos for me." you leaned back in your seat, taking a sip of your iced lemon tea, finally feeling like the world wasn’t collapsing around you for once in a very long time.

after the conversation with mark, you found yourself sitting in your small studio, the flickering light from your desk lamp casting a warm glow across your sketches. the weight of everything—of jeno, of the tuxedo, of wheein—still pressed on you, but there was a quiet shift in your messy thoughts. mark had a way of helping you see things from a different perspective, even when it felt impossible to do so yourself.

you looked at the blank page in front of you, the design for the wedding dress that you had been avoiding for weeks now. the dread was still there, but you knew it had to be faced eventually. you knew you had to start.

closing your eyes for a moment, you let your thoughts wander, not towards the pain of the past, but towards wheein. the woman who would wear this dress. the woman who was going to be part of jeno's future. part of the life you thought you were going to have.

in your mind, you could see her clearly: her laughter, warm and light, like the soft glow of a sunrise. her kindness radiating in every word she spoke. you could almost hear her voice, the way it was full of life, of genuine joy. it was almost too bright, too perfect.

and yet, as much as you hate to admit it, everything about wheein felt like the embodiment of sunshine. the way she carried herself, her presence, the way she filled a room with warmth—it was like she was made for jeno. she balanced him in a way you couldn’t, didn’t. it was hard to swallow, the truth of it. but there it was.

you shifted in your chair, fingers playing with the edge of your sketchbook. even now, you could feel the pull to create something beautiful for her. to create something that was entirely hers.

you sighed in defeat, feeling the familiar ache rise in your chest. but this wasn’t about you. it wasn’t about what could have been or the life you had once dreamed of. this was about her. about her future with jeno, a future that was full of light and laughter and everything you once thought you wanted.

so, you picked up your pencil. the idea of a golden glow crept into your mind, the warmth of it, the way it would reflect the essence of who wheein was. you began to sketch, slowly at first, hesitant, but then more fluidly as your hand moved across the paper. it wasn’t the dress you had envisioned for yourself—but it was something better. something that fit wheein perfectly, just as she fit jeno.

the day finally came when you had to face them again.

it was time to present what you and mark had been working on—what you'd poured so much of yourself into.

you spent the morning preparing, setting up the room as carefully as you always did for your consultations. your sketches were laid out neatly on the table, each one representing a step in the journey of letting go, of embracing something new.

as you stood there, arranging the last details, the sound of the studio doorbell echoed through the quiet space.

your stomach flipped.

it wasn't like you hadn't seen them before. jeno and wheein had both been to your studio already, but today felt different. after all, they will be judging the your craft.

you turned, greeted by the sight of jeno and wheein walking through the door, their presence filling the space in a way that felt both familiar and foreign.

“hey, y/n,” jeno greeted with a soft smile, his voice warm but guarded. wheein, on the other hand, was all smiles as she greeted you excitedly. her energy was light, and you couldn't help but admire the way she held herself. it was like everything about her was sunshine and joy, the kind of person who radiated warmth.

you smiled back, though it didn't quite reach your eyes. "it's good to see you both," you said, voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your chest. "please, have a seat."

mark settled down with you by your side. his presence easing your nerves in its own way.

"so, i've been working on a few different ideas for your dress, wheein," you began, your voice calmer now, your focus shifting to her. "i know you mentioned wanting something with lace and a kind of dreamy feel, and i’ve tried to bring that to life here."

you glanced briefly at jeno, seeing the way his eyes softened as he looked at the sketches. but then, he quickly turned his attention back to wheein, as if he was afraid to look too long.

you couldn’t blame him.

"here," you continued, pointing to one of the sketches. "this design has a lot of lace details, almost like flowers scattered across the fabric. it’s soft, delicate... the kind of thing that’ll make you feel like you're walking through a garden in full bloom."

you watched as wheein’s eyes lit up, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang in your chest. she was exactly what you had imagined when you designed this. beautiful. pure. a dream made real.

"i love this," wheein said, her voice full of excitement. "it’s everything i wanted. i wanted something that would make me feel like i’m floating. like a dream."

you nodded, a smile tugging at your lips, even though it felt bittersweet. "i’m glad you like it," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "there’s a lot of little details i’m still refining, but i think this is the right direction."

jeno stayed quiet, watching you with an unreadable expression, but you could tell he was processing everything deeply. you wondered what was going through his mind, what memories of you this might stir up. but you couldn’t let yourself focus on that now.

instead, you focused on wheein’s smile—the way her eyes sparkled with anticipation and joy. this was for her. not for you. not for jeno.

this was her moment, her dress.

just as you were about to continue, mark chimed in, his voice smooth and confident. "and as for the tux," he began, carefully laying the folder with jeno’s tuxedo designs in front of them. "jeno, i’ve put together a few ideas based on what we discussed. the goal is to keep it elegant but modern, something that suits your style but also complements wheein’s dress."

jeno glanced at you quickly before turning his attention to mark, his gaze unreadable. "sounds good," he said, though his voice was quieter than usual.

mark opened the folder, showing them the first set of designs. "this one here," he said, pointing to a sharp black tuxedo with subtle details, "has a clean, classic look, but with a twist. i wanted to keep it traditional but with some elements that stand out. the lapels, the fabric—it’ll all give off a sleek and refined vibe."

jeno nodded, his expression thoughtful, but you could tell that he was processing more than just the tuxedo design. something was weighing on him, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it had to do with the fact that this was your studio—your designs. you weren’t sure, but you tried not to dwell on it.

"that looks really good," wheein said, her voice warm. "i think jeno will look amazing in it."

mark smiled, glad to see her approval. "i’m glad you like it," he said, before flipping to another design. "this next one is a bit more daring—still sleek but with a bit more edge. it’s not quite as traditional, but it’ll definitely make a statement. and honestly, this midnight blue palette will really highlight your silhouette well."

jeno remained quiet for a moment, studying the design, and you could see him mulling over the details. "i like this one too," he said, his voice more thoughtful now. "it feels more me."

mark grinned, looking over at you for a brief moment before continuing. "well, we'll refine the final version once you decide, but i’m confident it’ll be perfect."

the conversation shifted easily back to the dress, and as you discussed further details, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of relief. mark was doing exactly what you needed him to do—keeping the focus off you and your tangled feelings, and instead, keeping it professional.

"so," mark said with a light chuckle, glancing over at you once more, "now that we’ve covered everything, i think it’s time for us to wrap things up. if you’re both happy with what you’ve seen today, we can go ahead and start working on the fittings."

"yes, absolutely," wheein said, her enthusiasm still present. "thank you so much for doing this you guys."

you smiled, feeling the weight in your chest ease just a little. it wasn’t perfect—nothing was—but it was moving forward.

“i’ll make sure it’s perfect for you,” you said quietly, meeting her eyes.

to be continued...

taglist: @starryeyesspice @bluedbliss @undomielsql @nshitae @starryeyesspice @spicyryujin

[scarfacemarston]

Bucky Barnes A-Z Fluff Alphabet!

Feel free to send in more requests for Bucky! Please think about "liking" and reblogging! These things take time. Also, I included a lot of 1940s Bucky as a comparison.

A - Affection (how do they show affection to their s/o)

Bucky has always been physically affectionate, but this changed after escaping his time in Hydra captivity. He's slowly beginning to experience positive touches again and quickly discovered how touch-starved he is, so physical touch is a significant way he shows affection, but there are days when he'll request not to be touched. He tries to be encouraging and complimentary, but he feels like it comes across as awkward and stilted. He'll try for quality time, but he does worry if he's overstaying his welcome. However, he does become less anxious as time goes on.

B - Best Friend (what are they like as a best friend?)

Look at Steve, for example! He's loyal to a fault. He will put his friend's well-being way beyond his own. He considers himself less of a decent friend than before, but he's wrong. He's just as great a friend as he used to be.  He's just as loyal and self-sacrificing. He will drop everything the moment you need help. The only reason he is ever distant is because he doesn't believe he's worthy of friendship, and his anxiety and depression get in the way. He will always doubt himself, but again, it improves in time.

C - Cuddling (do they like to cuddle? And how would they do it?)

Yes, physical touch with those he trusts is a soothing balm for him. He's always loved it when someone played with his hair, or he could hold hands, place an arm around his partner's waist - he loves it all, so loving to cuddle is really no surprise. He occasionally doesn't want to be touched, and that space is important to him, but otherwise, he'd be happy to be cuddled basically any time. It doesn't matter what position - he loves them all, but his favorite is lying on his back with your head on his chest.

D - Domestic (do they want to settle down? How good are they at cooking and cleaning)

In the 40s, he was expected to settle down at some point and probably would have in some form after the war. He still feels as though he has these expectations today, but it's more of a ghost memory than anything else. He'd be surprised that someone wants that with him - unless it's Steve. If it's Steve, he's not surprised at all and would consider it a continuation of their lives in Brooklyn. With a new partner, he can be convinced to settle down; he just wants to be sure that it's what you want. He knows how to clean and can cook simple meals, as we see in Romania. In the 30s and 40s, it was very much bachelor food like canned soup and a relatively clean, if not bare, apartment. Bucky can be a combination of messy and neat. It depends on his mental health. However, his residence is so devoid of decor that it's hard to make it messy. (This is seen with the comics as well.) He does improve when you move in with him. He enjoys cooking now in comparison to the 40s.

E - Ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He's very quiet but very gentle and kind about it. He doesn't expect you to understand why, and he is hard on himself for breaking it off. He is more likely to break it off because of his own self-doubt, but he does have boundaries that, if broken - he will break it off. He expects you to hate him afterward and understands if you do, but his mind will not change.

F - Fiancé (how do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

In the 40s, Bucky loved dating around - he wasn't a himbo, but he did enjoy pursuing different people. He didn't want to settle down yet - unless it was with Steve, which was something he didn't want to think about logistically. However, he doesn't take commitment for granted nowadays and realizes how valuable it can be. He's not sure about marriage as it's nothing he ever really thought about outside of his mother reminding him he "should" get married, but if it feels right and it's discussed, he might be convinced. 

G - Gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Bucky is very methodological physically and emotionally speaking. He is very tender and careful, but steady physically speaking.He is especially careful with his prosthetic. Emotionally, he is stronger than one would expect. He isn't a pushover, and will defend himself or anyone else who needs defending, but he is gentler now than before he was the Winter Soldier.

H: Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) 

Once there's trust between you, yes. He loves hugs. He loved them in the 40s, and he loves them now. He definitely loves to be greeted with a hug and likes to give you a hug before he leaves somewhere, like a mission or therapy. They're very firm but gentle.

I: I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It would take Bucky a while before he said he loved you. The problem is, he either plans how he'll say it—his preference—or accidentally blurts it out in an especially tender moment and then dies of embarrassment. I would say it takes about half a year, but it really depends on your bond. 

J: Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?)

The 1940s Bucky could get quite jealous. It wasn't a toxic masculinity thing, but it was definitely something he sometimes struggled with. He was never abusive about it, EVER, but it was something that bothered him, as seen with The First Avenger. Nowadays, he's less likely to be jealous because his confidence levels are a bit lower than before, but the more robust your bond, the more likely he is to get jealous because the two of you put so much work into it. He is definitely the type to give the death glare to end all death glares, make a snide comment, or generally find a way to stay by your side. 

K: Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you?)

It really depends on his mood, as it does with anyone. Sometimes, he can give playful kisses, peppering them all over your face as he refuses to let go, or they can be slow and tender, full of meaning and gratefulness, or they can be scorching, searing, and passionate.

L: Little Ones (How are they with kids?)

Bucky has always been good with kids, even in the 40s, and that's thanks in part to having three little sisters. We also see the children in Wakanda love him. He's very relaxed and more himself around children. In the 40s, his mother used to harass him about when he'd give her grandkids. 

M: Mornings (How are mornings spent with them?)

In the 40s, it was getting up at the crack of dawn to work at the docks for 9-12 hour shifts, with him sleeping in late on the weekends. Now, he still sleeps late because he feels like he doesn't have anything else to do. However, given a routine and responsibilities like helping the Avengers or going on missions, he is more likely to keep a decent schedule. It's also his insomnia that causes him to sleep in more, but not as late as he used to. Now, he'll spend the mornings trying to coax you to stay in bed with him, whether that's through cuddles or fun. ; )

N: Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Again, insomnia is his worst enemy. He tends to take late-night walks or read late into the night before staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep. Now, he does those things, but he can also enjoy sex with you, cuddling, or watching something stupid on TV. 

O: Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Bucky was semi-open about himself in the 40s, but he was actually more likely to ask about you than about him. Sure, he'd talk about his family, Steve, or his work, but that was about it. However, that was partially the toxic belief that men just don't reveal everything about themselves. Now, it's more about feeling safe to do so and what is "too much." What will chase you away? When will it happen? However, as usual, with trust, this changes, and while there is much he will never reveal, he slowly opens up. 

P: Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He could be a bit fiery in the 40s, but nothing compared to Steve. He was a saint in comparison to Steve. His anger is more biting and calling someone out, maybe raising his voice in the 40s. Now, it's more stormy and quiet. It can be biting, though, and there are still elements of him from the 40s with snide comments - but he hates to fight and would prefer to do anything to prevent it, or if there has to be a fight - find a resolution as soon as possible.

Q: Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every detail in passing, or do they kind of forget? )

In the 40s, he tried to remember as much as he could and actually impressed people with how thoughtful he could be. He remembered everything about Steve, his sisters, and the commandos, but also things about his enemies. Nowadays, he struggles with his memory, but he sometimes writes important things in his journal so he can remember them. However, the will is there, and he tries very hard.

R: Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first time you watched a movie together and you put your head on his shoulder. It was the first time someone had done that to him since before he fell off the train. That moment turned into full on cuddling during the movie and he was so anxious - but giddy, that he couldn't focus on the movie.

S: Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) 

1940s Bucky was very protective in about every way imaginable, but especially in the stereotypical 1940s ways. However, Bucky now isn't entirely too different from that. The main difference is that he is a little more modern in how he views women and that he is a bit more physically protective. Unsurprisingly, he is very concerned someone from his past might harm you. He's the type that wants you to text him when you get home safely and has similar habits. Emotionally, he has no problem standing up for you. It's something he's always been good at.

T: Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, and gifts?)

He's always been thoughtful about dates, anniversaries, and gifts from childhood to now. He never had much money, so every penny had to count. If he couldn't buy something, he would plan extensively for just the right type of event to attend. With dates, he was a bit more traditional and knew what worked, like dinner and a movie or the carnival, but that doesn't mean he didn't put thought into it. Bucky is the same now, except perhaps even more thoughtful about it. He was always observant, but now he listens more than he talks, whereas before, it was the opposite. He may have more money now, but he prefers to put a lot of thought into what he gets you or something that can help you. Nowadays, he overthinks what he should do for a date or anniversary, but it's always wonderful even when things don't go as planned.

U: Ugly (What would be a bad habit of theirs?)

His self depreciation is pretty bad. His low self confidence also tends to get in the way of things - but it is of no fault of his own! As for an actual habit, he grinds his teeth and clenches his jaw too often giving him jaw pain. 

V: Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Bucky could be quite vain in the 40s and spent quite a bit of time on his hair. He didn't have a choice about his appearance as the Winter Soldier and afterwards, he was too focused on survival and blending in to really care about his appearance. He is trying to get more into self care habits and rituals and you encourage him to spend time on himself, but he doesn't care like he once did. 

W: Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Bucky was surrounded by people in the 40s so he would notice it less if his partner was gone, but he would still feel it! I just think he would bounce back quicker depending on how the relationship was while with Bucky now; he always tries to prepare for the worst and prepare himself for if you do leave him. He would survive, but he would feel like a light was extinguished.

X: Xtra (A random headcanon for them)

Bucky really misses the Indiana house he had to sell. He really wanted to stay there, build a community, and potentially raise a family there, but it wasn't meant to be. (This is more comic verse-esque)

Z: Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Bucky used to be a stomach sleeper, but that quit when he joined the army. It was too uncomfortable to sleep on his stomach then. It's not as easy with his prosthetic, but he still sleeps on his stomach sometimes. (This is canon for Comic Bucky.) 

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Hey i see your request are open so could i ask for any characters of your choice with a s/o that has a strong battle lust like no matter the situation they if they see something or someone they think is strong or scary enough they just go “lets kill it” anyway thank you for making content its people like you who get me through the day don’t feel obligated to write this if you don’t want to love your stuff keep it up!

Them with a reader that wants to fight everything

characters: Eula / Keqing / Clorinde x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: I gotta recover those character banners I used back in the day...

Anyway, thanks for the request and the kind words, they mean a lot and I hope you enjoy!

Eula

Eula has had to work with more people than she could recall over the years, some of them more tolerable than others, whether it was due to their personalities or work ethic. And yet you still managed to rank amongst the most exhausting companions she ever had to work besides.

It wasn’t your personality – she could count the times you got into any kind of conflicts with your squadmates on one hand – nor was there any kind of definition she could use to call your work ethic lacking. If anything… it was the complete opposite.

Having to make sure you didn’t get yourself killed after charging headfirst into battle was tedious enough, and yet it weren’t just Lavachurls and other kinds of monstrous beasts that regularly drew your lust for battle.

“Please, Eula. Just one Punch!” You begged like a little child that was told their parents wouldn’t buy that one toy that they had set their minds on for them, trying your damnedest to wiggle out of her grip. And yet to no avail, as shoulders remained in her tight grip.

If she didn’t know better, Eula would think you were the one that had spent their evening drinking their frustrations away, and not her. If it were anyone other than you, she’d at least try to tell you to calm down, that strangers judging her for her heritage was nothing new for her, and yet considering it was you, she doubted it would have made any difference whether the tall big guy in front of you hadn’t insulted her or not.

Sure, you seemed agitated enough while listening to him talk, but it had only been after he challenged you to a fight that you had tried jumping at him with the excitement of a dog chasing his favourite toy.

Not that you ever got the chance to strike, having your arms used to pull you back the same way one would use the leash on a dog the moment before your feet took off. Nor did you have to punch anyone, as your lack of even a sliver of hesitation and lust for battle alone did enough to drive anyone stupid enough to challenge you away.

“No! We can go search for hilichurl camps tomorrow, sit down!”

Eula didn’t even expect that to work. And yet the moment those words left her mouth you were sitting on the bench as if nothing had ever happened.

Keqing

“What do you have to say for yourself?” The Guardman’s voice echoed out, staring accusatory daggers into you as he tried to catch his breath from having to run all the way here, the footsteps of his companions trailing not far behind him as you immediately raised your arms in a show of peace.

“They tried to hurt each other”, you gestured to the several bandits lying around the grassfield, none of them showing any signs of consciousness, although each of them were still clearly alive.

“But, I’m a peaceful person, I don't do things like that.” As those words flew past your lips, Keqing’s eyes locked with the guard’s.

The two of you had been on a small errand, when a group of treasure hoarders had ambushed you just outside the city’s view, each of them large in stature and looking threatening in their own right, before demanding your goods and mora.

Not wanting to use unnecessary violence, Keqing had just started to try and resolve the conflict with words when you had suddenly kicked one of them with enough force to have him roll down the hill, letting out a war cry best described as ‘unhinged’ before literally picking up the smallest of them and throwing him as if competing in a sport.

By the time the Yuheng stopped blinking at you in utter surprise and sprang into action, all of the bandits had either been knocked out cold or were running for the mountains.

It was… an experience.

“Everything I did, I did in self defense.” You added in a tone that almost made it seem you were sad you had to resort to violence in the first place. 

…She doubted you were. There weren’t all too many pacifists she knew that had a war cry ready at a moment's notice.

“Miss Keqing, you’ve seen the scene play out, I presume? Is it the truth?” The Guard asked her now, the Yuheng’s eyes widening in surprise for a brief moment as she hesitated to answer for a moment before doing so with confidence.

“Considering they did ambush us, I would call it self defense as well.”

Just like that, the two of you were free to go. But while you no longer had anything to explain to the Guards, that didn’t mean you weren’t going to have a discussion about this.

Clorinde

There weren’t many people that would willingly challenge Clorinde to a fight, most of her potential opponents fled or decided to get sentenced instead of duelling her. Not that she could blame them. The number of human fighters in Fontaine that could stand their ground against her could be counted on one hand.

And then… there were you. Always challenging her to fights whenever you could, only to get rejected each and every time. 

Work and private life didn’t mix for Clorinde. You were part of her private life, while duelling was work. She was more than happy enough to have you join her and the others playing games or to indulge you in your hobbies, but duelling? That was out of the question.

Not like her rejections impacted your determination in any way though. You’d still continue asking.

Today was a day to celebrate. Not for Clorinde’s sake, the woman only begrudgingly let you and Navia celebrate her birthday after all, but for yours. Celebrating other peoples’ birthdays or achievements was something entirely different, especially if it were those of people close to her. And yet considering what had led you here in the first place, Clorinde found it difficult to decide whether to congratulate or chide you.

“Congratulations on your promotion. Navia baked some macrons for you when she heard the news”, The woman with a small box of the sweets in her hand, only to pull it away just in time to dodge the hand of yours that reached out to grab it.

“Playing with a wounded officer’s feelings? You’re too cruel, Clorinde”, you pretended to be disappointed in her, only to quickly smile at her, using the momentary distraction to try grabbing the sweets once again.

“And how exactly were you wounded?” She asked in her usual stoic voice as she dodged your hand once again, already knowing the answer to her question.

“By valiantly trying to protect a member of the community.” You declared before trying to strike a pose, only to hiss in pain as you moved your injured arm.

Considering you did manage to help catch a wanted criminal, Clorinde decided not to add insult to injury, leaving out her comment about how she seriously doubted it was the potential victim that caused you to lunch at the criminal and not just the thrill of the fight, letting out a small sigh before placing Navia’s gift in front of you, only to watch you inhale them within moments.

“Clorinde, let's have a duel tomorrow”, you stated in between your bites, only for your movements to come to a grinding halt the moment you heard a dry chuckle escape her lips.

“I’m not going to duel an injured person.”

Almost immediately, Clorinde wished she had phrased that statement differently, as your eyes lit up with almost childlike excitement.

“So you’re alright with duelling me once I’ve recovered?!”

[hermits-crab]

FLUFF ALPHABET W/ SEBASTIAN — STARDEW VALLEY

SUMMARY: The Fluff Alphabet by @snk-warriors featuring Sebastian!

CONTAINS: sfw, gn! reader, fluff, established relationship

NOTES: Dedicating this to @badgerintraining who asked about this a while ago! I’m so sorry this took me so long to post. I was really enjoying my break before the semester started and now that it has, it’s kept me busy. I hope I did your boy justice!

A = Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Sebastian likes playing video games with you or to have you at his side while you watch him! He likes having your input and commentary as he plays. This includes you playing Solarian Chronicles with him and Sam too. He also likes showing and explaining his comic book collection to you!

B = Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

He loves your touch and your skin! It’s always so warm and your scent relaxes him. He loves being enveloped by you. It’s not something he thought he liked before—in fact, he wasn’t receptive to it at all—but with you, it’s so different. Your presence and touch is calming because you’re not overbearing or expectant of him. When anyone else touches him, he visibly tenses.

C = Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Sebastian isn’t great at comforting people. He’s very awkward. For example, if he finds you crying, he’ll stand there for a moment before going to sit next to you. He hesitates to rub your back at first (he does awkwardly) but eventually pulls you into him. He doesn’t say anything, just letting you cry, all while he becomes increasingly more comfortable with petting your head and holding you tighter. He’ll ask you if you want to talk about and then offer to do something you enjoy, like watching your favorite show.

D = Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He pictures a quiet life with an occasional outing. He’s not concerned about marriage or children—he’s never pictured that life for himself personally. He might want to buy an apartment in the city where he (and you!) can go to every so often.

E = Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

He tends to be more dominant but it’s not on purpose; he’s kinda stubborn. For example: if you come home later than you said you would, he’s waiting for you at the door or on the porch and telling you off. He does it out of love and worry but tries to come off as though he’s more mad than he actually is.

F = Fight - Is it easy for them to forgive their s/o? How are they when fighting?

Although he tries to act tough, he’s very sensitive! If you hurt him, he’s going to be quite passive until you approach him to apologize. He’s not gonna initiate anything. If holding grudges was a sport, he’d be the MVP. The same pretty much goes for when you fight. But if he was in the wrong, he’ll probably be mad for a little while but later he shamefully apologizes.

G = Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

He’s very grateful for you as a person but doesn’t recognize his gratitude beyond that very often. Not because he isn’t! He most definitely is but it doesn’t cross his mind frequently. When it does, he becomes kinda mushy, giving you more physical affection than normal and doing you favors around the house or farm.

H = Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

I think Sebastian has a lot of secrets or things about himself that he’s not willing to share. It’s so hard for him to open up. The longer you’re together, the more he does and the easier it is for him.

I = Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Without a doubt! He’s very open-minded and is willing to do just about anything to ensure your happiness. He tends to like what you introduce to him to even if he thinks he won’t at first! It’s enough that you want to spend time with him.

J = Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

He doesn’t get jealous very easily but when he sees someone blatantly flirting with you, he gets pissed. He’s not confrontational so he’ll aggressively remove you from the situation, pulling you close to his body. He’ll then either lecture you, asking you what the hell was going on, or he’ll give you the silent treatment with one word answers or grunts. Either way, he is not letting you leave his side nor is he removing his hand from you.

K = Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Inexperienced king. The first kiss was awkward and shy on his part. He was a little hesitant, cupping your cheek so gently and slowly pulling you in. His kiss is so soft and sweet, like you were going to crumble beneath him if it wasn’t.

L = Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

On a motorcycle ride to a cliff with a view of the city!

M = Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

I think the thought of marriage kind of freaks him out. Commitment freaks him out. If you’re down to never be married, he’d be very happy. But if that’s something you know you want, you’ll need to tell him that so he can ease himself in the idea. The closer and longer you’ve been together, the more receptive he is to the idea.

N = Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

Babe, Sweet Thing, Doll. He mainly calls you by your name and sometimes ‘babe’, reserving the other two mostly for the bedroom. He’s not much for nicknames otherwise.

O = On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they’re in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

To people who don’t know him well, no, it’s not obvious. To people who do know him well, it’s painfully obvious. He spends less time in his room, he’s happier, he’s friendlier, he’s more sociable. His loved ones catch on quickly that something’s up and he knows there’s no hiding it.

P = PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

I don’t think he talks a whole lot about you. That’s not to say he’s unhappy or ashamed because that is so far from the truth. Sebastian is a very private person, only willing to let the outside world in on a surface level. The closer he is to someone, the more he’s likely to mention you. He just wants to keep his private life private.

Q = Quirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

he’s good with his hands Sebastian is very good at setting boundaries, mainly that of alone time. His social battery drains very quickly—it always has—and he needs frequent time to himself to recharge. Please don’t take it personally! It has nothing to do with you. Even in your honeymoon phase, he’ll need this. It aligns with your schedules pretty well, though. While you’re busy going throughout your day on the farm, he’s at home using that time to spend alone, and in turn, time to miss you. He’s always so happy to see you return, hoping you’d like to spend time together for a little while.

R = Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

I think his first reflex is to do something cliche and romantic, like taking you out to a nice restaurant. His second would probably be a more adolescent approach, like a movie. And there’s nothing wrong with either of those date ideas! But as he grows more comfortable in your relationship, he starts taking you places he enjoys (and of course, thinks you’ll enjoy too), like going to a concert, going to an amphibian and reptile showing, or even getting a (small) couple tattoo.

S = Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

He hates when people try to help him without him asking. He knows how that can make things worse so he doesn’t want to step on anyone’s toes. Unless you ask him for his help and specify what it is you need his help with, he’s gonna back off. He’ll always give you emotional support though. He wants to see you succeed and help you in achieving your goals!

T = Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Sebastian is such a creature of habit and doesn’t feel a need for much adventure. He prefers to keep a lowkey routine and is very content with it. He needs to be able to rely on it to manage his anxiety and depression.

U = Understanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

He’s a lot more empathetic than he might come across. Sebastian is very perceptive and he quickly picks up on what bothers you. Even if he might not exactly understand what you’re feeling, he does understand what it’s like to not be so he’ll always try his best to empathize with you.

V = Value - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Sebastian strikes me as the type to lead with his heart. He might not completely rationalize a situation or think logically at first. For example: if you’re in danger, he’ll run into it head on in an attempt to bring you to safety, not considering other possible factors or hurdles he might come across. So he’ll do and endure just about anything if it means you’re happy.

W = Wild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

On rainy days, Sebastian likes to either take you down to the docks or to catch frogs with you! At the docks, he brings a couple of towels for you both to sit on as you stare into the horizon, cuddling each other under your shared umbrella. Catching frogs brings out a child-like innocence in him that you rarely ever see. He’s completely himself too, telling you everything he knows about them or about that specific species you caught.

X = XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

He’s actually more affectionate than you may think! He likes having you in his lap while he works at the computer. He’s especially cuddly in the morning and at night. If he’s not holding you, he’s wrapping himself around you and burying his face in the crook of your neck. But he’d never admit to doing that to save his life.

Y = Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Sebastian will probably text you hourly to check on you, maybe even call you just to hear your voice. He greets you at the door when you come home, suggesting a movie or chill multiplayer game.

Z = Zeal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind?

Absolutely! He’s a lot softer than he likes to come across. If you asked him to quit smoking, he might give you some gruff about it but eventually would. It wouldn’t leave his mind, in fact. He’d look at it as something he had to do, the only reason he’d hesitate at first is because of the addiction. Otherwise, if you asked, then sure!

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