#like i might bite you/neg

[elisedonut]

I know I've said it before but I hate when people say Luna shouldn't be depicted as weird

like i get like their thought process on it i do

they don't want her to be like a caricature

but all i can think when i hear it is the amount of shit that's come out of my own mouth that are so similar to things she has said

not like about the conspiracy stuff that's not what i mean

though you could make an argument that its similar to a hyper fixation or special interest for her in which case mood i will bring up the things I'm fixating on at legit every opportunity too

but like randomly oversharing things out of the blue.

Missing social ques on things your not meant to say.

Like no she's weird and that's alright that's ok she doesn't have to be normal

[lockedtowers]

thinking abt how cassie reacts to ppl trying to/actually killing her and honestly shes most offended when ppl try to shoot her. like stabbing and otherwise shes like ‘oh, oh you’re flirting w me, clearly’ and like some things its like ‘youre awful at this but youve got some spirit ig’ but no you try to shoot her and her respect is basically zero she just be like ‘wow you??? tried to SHOOT me??? the lazymans way of murdle??? what are you, boring?”

[bi-writes]

Could you do one of Simon forgetting to bring his lunch and so his wife brings it except she turns up in a cute sundress??

mail-order bride (18+)

"simon...simon riley?" you ask.

the officer raises a brow, looking down at your ID and then back at your face. he frowns a little, scratching the back of his neck.

"he's a lieutenant," you add, biting your lip. "uhm...and he works with...with john."

"john?"

you suck in a shaky breath, biting your lip nervously.

"captain john price?"

the officer just glares at you a little before picking up his radio.

"yes, ma'am. wait here."

he turns his back to you, walking a little ways away, and you hear him speak into the radio lowly.

"...got a civilian here asking for lieutenant riley..."

"...negative, sir..."

"...oh. affirmative, sir. right away."

the officer comes back, giving you your ID back. he looks sheepish now all of the sudden, and he smiles at you, which unnerves you almost.

"u-uh, so sorry ma'am. you can park near the main office, right that way," he points to a building far to the left, "i'll have someone come meet you there to take you inside. again, apologies...we're going to put you on a list, mrs. riley."

you frown a little, shrugging. you're not upset. it's a miltiary base, for christ's sake, and you've never been here; of course they would be apprehensive about letting you in. but the private looks terrified out of his mind, so you just smile a little and make your way towards the parking spot he pointed out.

when you get out of the car, you push the door closed with your hip, picking up the bag in the passenger seat. there's a woman standing by the door, smiling and waving at you. she looks very smart, in a nice pantsuit. you smooth your dress down, smiling back at her, and you swing your purse over your shoulder before making your way to her.

"hello, mrs. riley. the lieutenant's wife, i hear?" she asks. you nod and shake her hand.

"y-yes...he...he said he was just doing administrative stuff today, but he forgot some things so...i just wanted to do something nice--"

"right!" she nods her head towards the door. "i can escort you to his office. uhm...i believe he's debriefing with captain price this afternoon, but i'm sure he can make some time." she winks at you when she says that, and you bite back a shy smile.

she takes a seat at her desk, picking up the phone. she yaps for a few minutes, and you take a seat in an empty chair, smoothing your skirt out. your wearing one of simon's favorites, the cherry-printed mini dress he loves so much, but you realize maybe he might not be the only one. there's a myriad of privates and soldiers that walk past you, and you hear some whistles by some of the bolder ones. you suddenly feel very self conscious, tucking your legs underneath yourself. you're wearing white strapped wedges, your hair styled nicely with a bow to match the dress, but now you feel silly, stupid.

why would you go to a military base dressed like a fucking pin-up girl?

"wot are you doin' 'ere?" a rough voice demands.

mmm. that's why.

you look up from your chair, smiling wide when you see him. simon stands with his arms crossed over his tact vest, tilting his head to the side as he glares at you from under his skull mask. you've never seen him strapped before, though. he's got a gun tucked into his thigh holster.

"h-hi," you pick up the basket next to you, standing up, and when you come close, simon is rough, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you near him with a short growl.

"oi," he snaps, but you just flutter your lashes at his harsh voice, smiling bigger. "can't fuckin' come 'ere lookin' so pretty."

you giggle, and even though you're wearing heels, you still find yourself standing on your toes as you try to get close to him.

"you forgot what i packed for you, simon. how could you forget?" you pout a little. he sighs deeply, smoothing his gloved hand down your back before nodding his head.

"c'mon. can't 'ave ya out here. fuckin' muppets starin' at my wife."

he turns and immediately starts walking. he's entirely too fast, and you skip in your wedges practically to try and keep up with him. when he notices, he slows his pace, and you grip the basket better in your hand before reaching for his with the other.

your hands intertwine, and you look around as you walk, reading the plaques on the wall, the shiny medals, waving at johnny when you see him holding a bag of crisps upside over his open mouth.

when simon shuts the door behind you in a dark office, you set the basket down on the desk, pushing back the kitchen towel fabric.

"okay, so i brought those muffins you like from that little shop. they had blueberry this morning, oh my gosh, simon, they also started putting out these little scones that--oh!" you gasp as he grabs you from the fat of your hips, a big flat palm over the base of your spine as he pushes you flat onto your stomach onto the desk. "simon!"

simon sucks on his teeth as he flips up your skirt, letting out a low whistle as he palms your ass, spreading the fat of it so he peek at the seam of the white lace you're wearing. you lay your palms against the desk and whimper, not used to simon being so rough, so upfront, so bold.

"can't just come here all dressed up, baby," simon grunts, shaking his head. "and not expect me to take wot i need...been surrounded by nothing but wankers all fuckin' day..."

you relax a little, giggling.

"simon," you sigh, your eyes closing as you push your hips back into his hands. "i missed you so much..."

"tha' why y'came down 'ere, luvvie?" he asks, smirking under the mask. "ya missed me? missed y'r husband? what'd ya miss, baby? tell me."

you arch your back a little, bowing it, and you laugh when he gives your ass a firm grab before picking you up and spinning you around, caging you against the desk. you smile up at him, dazed, a little dizzy, and he winks at you, eye-black dark and deadly around those killer brown eyes. he's so big, so hot, and you're suddenly very aware of how big simon looks in all his gear.

"i don't know," you say softly. "it's so cold in bed at night..."

simon snorts, "tha' right? 's cold? the lil' shits don't keep ya warm?"

"our girls like to sleep on your pillow, i think they miss you, too."

"fuckin' lil' bastards," simon chuckles, and you sigh, sliding your hands up his vest and tugging him just a little closer. your spread your knees to let him between them, and he reaches down and grips your thighs, hiking them up around his hips as he sits you onto the edge of the desk. "fuck, you're so fucking pretty..."

you tilt your head back for him.

"i miss eating with you. it's so quiet when you're not around."

"mmm. i bet, luv."

"and i miss you when i'm alone," you whisper. "i miss you when it's just me..."

simon narrow his eyes, "tell me, swee'eart."

you reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down towards you. you kiss him over the mask, tasting sand and ash, licking over his lips through the cotton. it's lewd, disgusting, but he groans under the fabric.

"when, simon? when?" you ask, and he hums lowly.

"when? 'ow about right now?"

"no way, you're so gross, simon," you giggle. "our first time is not going to be on a desk in some dingy office where you work--"

you seize when he cups you between the thighs, big gloved hand palming your cunt through your lace panties. you arch your back and gasp, gripping his biceps tight as you lean into his touch.

"don't need t'make it our first time," simon tilts his head to the side. "can still make it real fuckin' nice, baby."

"oh, now you wanna touch me?" you suck in a shaky breath. "just because some of your men wanna look up my skirt?"

"oh, for tha', i'll make ya scream my bloody name, for oll of them ta hear," he growls, and you smile wide up at him.

"guess they need to learn i'm a lieutenant's wife," you giggle, and simon whistles low, tugging your panties to the side, and you whimper when you he prods at your entrance with two big gloved fingers.

"ahhhh..." simon hisses. "ya like tha' title, tha' it, baby? yeah...yeah you like tha'..."

"i like it," you whine, and when he meets your watery eyes, he plunges those big fingers deep, thumbing at your clit. your mouth falls open, your nails digging into his sleeves, and you suddenly wish you had asked him to take you to get your nails done so you could really claw it. "i like it..."

"could make these boys lick the fuckin' ground ya walk on," he mutters, and you whine when a particular rough thrust of his hand squelches between your thighs. "they'd do anythin' to please me, baby...even johnny would chew your bloody food for ya if i asked him to--"

you reach down and grip his wrist, your thighs shaking as you jolt. it feels so good, your entire body is on fire. his fingers are petting a nice little spot inside of you, stroking it as he pumps his hand nice and steady inside of you. his thumb is working you in gooey circles, flicking at your clit and putting taut the little string in your lower belly. your whole brain feels like it's fizzling, your blood rushing, and you stick out your tongue, licking over his masked jaw as you start to feel like you're gonna pass out from the wet slick, slick, slick sounding from your wet cunt.

"simon--simon--" you pant, and he groans, nodding his head.

"so pretty, baby," simon breathes. "so fuckin' tight, gonna 'ave to work ya open before i give ya my cock, lovey..."

"it's so big," you mumble, and simon coos, nodding his head.

"i know, baby, i know, 's big, real big...but you can take it, remember?" he laughs. "you can take it woteva i give you..."

you nod.

"i can take it--i can take it--!"

your vision blurs. there's tears coming down your face, sweat lining your forehead, your back, but you can't wipe the giggly, lazy smile off your face. simon cups the back of your head with his free hand, sitting you up, and when he pulls his fingers out from between your legs, his gloves are stuck to his hand practically, completely soaked through.

"y'r so pretty when y'cum," he murmurs, and you stick out your tongue for him. he gets the message, shoving his mask up just enough, and he bends to kiss you warm and wet.

"well then," you meet his eyes, all languid, all relaxed, a devious little grin on your sweet face. "why don't you give me another then?"

simon grins, all teeth.

"woteva ya want."

[snail-day]

Rahhh I feel like a broken record saying this, but I just, ugh. Satoru is just such a yearner. Masks himself with smiles, pretending there’s nothing behind those pretty eyes. But really, he craves love. Craves it so deeply that the very act of being loved repulses him. It’s too much. He simply doesn't know what to do with it.

I just think Satoru in love is a mess, not in the way people expect. He’s not stammering over his words, not showing up at your door with hundreds of roses. He doesn’t have time for grand gestures like that.

He’s the type to stare at his phone longer than he should, the screen time stacking up in seconds. Just scrolling through your Instagram, pausing on that photo you always say you’re going to delete. He really wishes you wouldn’t because while you see imperfection, he sees someone who might as well have hung up the stars.

He’s the type to hover over his keyboard, those slender fingers typing and deleting the same message five times, wondering what would be too much. Would a heart emoji scare you off? Do you actually care about what he ate today?

Kicking his feet under the blankets, a few roll-arounds, when you text him “Goodnight” or “Good morning.” He bites down on a smile when you call first, just to tell him about a report or how your students are doing.

The Satoru with a crush: waking up earlier than necessary, neglecting the sleep his body begs for just to see if you’re online. If that typing bubble will pop up. If maybe - just maybe - you’re retyping too. If you crave him, even a fraction of the way he yearns for you.

He’s brushing his teeth at 7 a.m., frustrated, because you still haven’t texted. It’s only been two hours but it feels like forever. A foamy grin takes over his face when he sees the typing bubble. He checks, read receipts off. Just in case. He can't be caught looking desperate. Can't break down that wall just yet. Using his ego as a barrier to the real him.

Then the chime. Your message. Choking on toothpaste. Satoru has to pace his apartment like an idiot to calm down. A little circle around the coffee table, just to burn off the nerves. The soft patter of his giddy footsteps. Then he finally types back, “Good morning :)", though what he wants to say is “Did you sleep well?” or “Did you dream of me?”

And then, his smile falters. Do you think of him as Satoru, or as Gojo Satoru? Because there’s a difference. To mask the loneliness, swallowing the negative thoughts, he imagines you still curled up in bed, cheek smooshed into your pillow. Wonders how warm you’d be. If he were there, would you two stay wrapped up for an extra hour? Would you press a sleepy kiss to his cheek? Would you peck his face as many times as he would to yours?

When the silly little crush turns into something more - when it becomes a relationship.

Your mug sits next to his in the cabinet now. You brush your teeth together in the mornings. A playful nudge here and there. Giggling when he tries (and fails) to perfect an omelet. He makes character bentos for you on his day off, baby-blues crinkling with every smile.

And still - Satoru tries to play it cool. He wants to love you like a dog loves its favorite person, unconditionally, shamelessly, wholly. He wants to claim you as his and forget the rest of the world.

But he’s scared.

Scared that if he reaches too far, you won’t be there in the morning. That he’ll lose the luxury of placing his toothbrush next to yours. That there won’t be any more grocery trips where you both pause in the sweets aisle for far too long.

Scared you’ll pull away the second he starts reaching for miles instead of inches.

So he smiles. He jokes. Keeps the Gojo Satoru mask on. Because love is terrifying. It’s carving out your heart and handing it to someone, hoping they don’t drop it.

The first argument starts over something stupid. Most do. But it spirals. You don’t understand why he’s distant. Why he won’t let you all the way in. And he doesn’t know how to tell you that he’s terrified.

Because loving you means showing you the sharpest parts of himself. The ones buried behind smug grins and careless jokes. And he’s not sure you’ll still love him once you see them.

So he says something awful.

“Let’s break up.”

The words leave him in shards, clawing their way out of his throat. Words he doesn’t mean. A defense mechanism that works too well.

You freeze. He sees it in your eyes, shock, then hurt, then that dreadful look like you’re already pulling away.

And maybe… maybe that’s what he wants.

Because if he ends it now, if he’s the one who walks away, then he doesn’t have to know what it feels like to lose you for real. Doesn’t have to picture your body in a morgue because he couldn’t save you. Doesn’t have to imagine the world moving on without you in it.

It’s easier this way. That’s what he keeps telling himself.

Even as he stares at that imperfect photo of you still sitting on your Instagram while all the imperfect ones of you together are long gone. Scrubbed clean, no more cheeky smiles. No more subtle photos of you both on dates. As if pretending you never happened will make it hurt less. But it doesn’t. He’s left behind with nothing but the silence. And the tears that fall quietly onto the screen, threatening to like that photo from ages ago.

You forgot your toothbrush. But you left your house key.

His bed is still cold.

And god, he wishes you’d just send one more text.

[astrasng]

SCRATCH || BANGCHAN

MINORS DNI!

pairing: idol!chan x female!reader

summary: thanks to chan's solo stage you finally made him yours.

warnings: blood (from scratches obv), handjob, spanking, petnames (baby, honey, angel, sweetheart) unprotected sex, cursing

author's note: from my previous breakdown post bc of chan got me in an inspired mood so i made a little somethin somethin. still what the fuck was he thinking. also, if you're a regular reader by any chance (ily) you might have noticed i write jealousy tropes, IDKK WHY THO SORRY

important!: this is pure fiction, the act in this story is by my imagination and not based off true events. please do not copy the work.

enjoy!

It isn’t like you’re not supportive of your boyfriend. You’ve always been there for every idea, even if you thought that it wasn’t the best one. The things you have to deal with him being an idol settled deep into your mind, already accepting the consequences that may come in the way. But it’s not like you would ever give up your relationship with Chan just because he’s doing risky things that you may not like. 

To be honest, it kind of became an advantage for you. 

You would watch him having fun on stage with the other members, sometimes splashing water at each other, making everyone in the crowd either cheer or laugh at their silly behavior. There were times when they got sentimental, wishing all the happiness for STAY and the members for the future. It made you emotional just in the same way as you would watch them through the TV in your shared apartment. 

And then there were times where you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together and wait for him.

“Had fun today?” 

The sarcastic tone caught Chan’s attention as he’s doing his everyday night routine, just as he’s finishing up his shaving session. He knows exactly why you’re talking and reacting to him this way, you’ve been all fidgety with him since he got home from the first day of the tour, and when he stepped inside the apartment he saw you still sitting on the couch, not welcoming him in with the usual hug he gets. 

Chan looks a little bit to the side so he can get a reflection of you changing in the room, the towel you used laying on the ground after taking a shower. Without him. 

“Of course.It’s always heartwarming to meet with STAY’s. And the kids were so hyped about getting solo stages too.”

Now that just boils your blood. 

“Oh, were they?” You keep your back facing him,not letting him see how frustrated you really are about the game he’s playing. “They were doing an amazing job indeed.” You shut your eyes momentarily before putting on your velvet nightgown, and slowly walking towards the bathroom where your boyfriend is staying. 

“Yeah, I assume you saw mine too, right? Did you see the special makeup they did on me?” With pride he chuckles while putting away his shaving equipment, patting his dry as he picks up his toothbrush. His question should have a very easy and simple answer, yet here you are ready to give him a brainwash about not caring about your mental health. Cause what the hell was that? You can’t even form the offensive words you want to say to him out of frustration, you could never say anything negative about his performances in general — but the way he’s talking about it, so full of himself, you can’t help yourself. “I wonder who made all that.” It slips out, biting down on your lip softly to stop yourself from further embarrassment. 

“It must’ve been the makeup artist of course, but I could’ve done a better job if you ask me.” You step into the bathroom just as you finish your sentence, Chan unable to answer due to his mouth full with mint scented bubbles. 

As you want to pass behind him, you swipe your delicate fingers on his defined back muscles, the photos of him painted in scratches for the performance fills your vision. 

“Makeup was unnecessary,to be honest.” 

There’s something glinting in Chan’s eyes as a lopsided smile appears on his face, looking at you through the mirror placed above the bathroom counter. As the words leave your lips, he licks his plump lips slowly, putting away his toothbrush he just used. “If I had asked you, would you do it?” 

The air stops suddenly in your throat,taking your eyes off of him as you busy yourself with something else infront of you. “Well…it doesn’t matter now.” 

“Oh it does, honey.” Chan says lowly, his voice suddenly closer as you want it to, and you know perfectly he’s only a step away from you. “If I only knew my baby just wanted to help me out in my solo,” He snakes his arms around your waist slowly, his bare chest pressing into your clothed back as he’s standing behind you, whispering in your ear. “I could’ve used some help.” With that, he pressed a slow open mouth kiss on the side of your neck. his hands caressing the skin on your stomach. 

“Should we recreate it and show it to my makeup artist?”

Chan whispers against your ear, biting down slightly on your earlobe as he makes eye contact with you through the mirror. You look already disheveled just from his touch, your nightgown scrunched slightly up as he kneads your stomach, one of his hands slowly inching up to your breasts. “Would you like that, baby?” 

“I didn’t mean it like that, Chan – mhphm…” A small moan leaves your lips as he pinches your nipple in his slender fingers, continuing to make out with your neck as you try and compose yourself. 

“How did you mean it then?” He grunts out as you push your backside on his crotch, his cock twitching already in his sleeping pants at the thought of you being jealous. “Tell me.” 

“I–I just…” You try to form words, keeping yourself together and not yet falling for his words but then Chan sneakily slides his other down towards your waiting heat, his finger immediately meeting with slickness between your pussy lips. He groans again, grinding into your ass to ease the pain from being so hard. “Baby, if you want to scratch my back that badly just say it.” There’s something hiding behind his words which makes you shut your eyes from the pleasure he’s causing, your hands flying on the counter for support. “I kind of…wanted to..” Your breath hitches, cutting off your sentence when Chan flips your nightgown upwards to expose your wet pussy, your naked ass on display in front of him as he takes his hand away from your breast and caresses one of your cheeks. “You wanted what? Do you need some help darling?” He grunts under his breath when he feels you clench around his fingers, plugging it in and out to take your breath away. You moan out when you feel his fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot that makes your back arch. 

But Chan doesn’t give in that easily. 

You suddenly feel a stinging pain on one of your cheeks, moaning out shamelessly from the sensation he just caused with his hand. When you pick your head up you see Chan already looking at you through the mirror, lust filled eyes raking over your already fucked out face. “Say it baby.” 

You can feel his hand smoothing over the place he just spanked, the air in the bathroom so humid you can feel yourself getting sweaty again. His finger never stopped working inside you, with that spank almost knocking you over the edge. 

When Chan doesn’t see you changing your mind and finally answer him, he only clicks his tongue and tilts his head to the side. Without a second thought, he slaps your ass again, his finger circling around your clit rapidly when he hears your pornographic moans echoing in the bathroom.

“I–I wanted to mark you!” 

And there it is. 

As you practically moan out the words, Chan’s finger is coated thickly with your cum as his words made you tip over the edge. Your whole body shaking in his arms as you come down your high slowly, trying to gather your thoughts and realizing what you just said.

When the words finally leave your mouth he can’t help but smirk, the possessive side of you finally showing for the first time in your relationship. “And why is that honey?” Chan teases you, seeing your ears red from the sudden confession you just made. 

“Just so everyone knows that you’re mine..” You mumble quietly, shame overcoming you as it paints your cheeks deep red. 

Something snaps inside Chan. He can’t help but groan out, his cock painfully hard against his pants as he turns you around and places his hands on your throat, slightly adding pressure on it. Before you know it, you’re pressed up against the wall, his lips already chasing yours. 

“Do it baby.” He kisses you, his tongue sneaks through his lips to taste your lip balm you applied earlier he loves so much. “I want you to do your worst on me,” He whispers between kisses, his hand suddenly picking you up to put your legs around his waist. Your whole body welcomes him, your mouth opens as he slides his tongue inside once again, and your fingers landing into his freshly washed hair as he devours your lips. His hand scrunches up your gown once again before he presses his hardness into your slick core. 

At the contact you moan out loudly, already wanting him inside you, to ease your pain that he caused. 

“Feel that baby? It’s all yours. Nobody else has that but you.” 

With a whine you throw your head on the wall, Chan’s lips continuing to leaves red splotches on your sensitive skin as he takes his hand and pushes down his boxers, hissing out the minute the air hits his precum covered cock, tip red from all the waiting and veins bulging with excitement. 

He drags his wet tip over your puffy lips, spreading them open more to make room for himself when he circles around your clit. As he slides his length between your folds, you feel all emotions gather up inside you, the feeling too hazy as your vision becomes blurry from the need. “Channie,,please..” 

“‘s okay baby,I’ll give it to you.” He chants when he finally pushes his tip inside you, groaning out from you uncontrollably clenching around his cock when he nearly settles halfway in. “You have to relax,angel. You make it impossible for me to–”

“Chan — I’m so sorry, I–” He hears you gasp out, your body all tensed up, your eyes wide open as you look into the mirror across you. He looks swiftly behind him to see your naked bodies melted into one, and then it catches his eye. 

With one thrust he settles fully inside you, moaning from how incredibly tight you are around his length, keeping himself back to not buckle into you rapidly. He puts his hand on your chin, making you look into his eyes and not on his blood covered back. “I asked you to do this, right?” With a softened gaze, he makes sure you understand what he’s saying, not taking his eyes off of you until he sees your lust filled expression again instead of worry ones. “Right baby?”

“Y-yes..” You gulp when you see your fingers slightly covered in red around his neck. “But I didn’t want to-”

“It’s fucking hot.” He hisses, his voice whinier than usual as he puts his forehead on your chest, his hips starting to move. “You did such a great job sweetheart.” He pulls completely out before thrusting into you again, this time harsher as he hears your cries next to his ears. 

When you take another look in the mirror, you see what you just caused. The moment you felt his cock hitting you so deeply you couldn't help but deepen your nails into his skin on his broad back, now covered with blood here and there. It softly dribbles down his defined muscles, and Chan is right. It is fucking hot. 

So you clench around him again when you feel his fingers circling around your clit, his cock hitting the perfect spot as he moans out your name. “Do it again.” He demands, his hand flying on the wall next to your head to thrust up harder into you, making you roll your eyes. As you see Chan so deeply in emotions you scratch his back again, now only deep redness showing on his pale skin. 

The pain on his skin makes him inch closer to his release. The jerks of his hips, slamming against your hips are quickening, becoming more erratic, intense and desperate. You cry out his name nonstop, feeling him twitching inside you. 

“Give it to me.” He’s breathless as he chants into the side of your neck. “I need you to come around my cock baby.” 

His demand tips you over the edge again, moaning out his name as you feel him curl against you, his shoulders on display for you to see what you painted on his back. His grunts are vibrating through your body, the pain melting into pleasure as he paints your insides with his thick cum, feeling so full of him, feeling him everywhere. Chan bites down softly on your skin,kissing the pain away quickly as you both come down from this high. 

You are his. He made sure a long time ago, but now, you made sure he was yours too as you watch the crimson red blood slowly sliding down his back, gathering it on your fingers.

“It took a solo stage for you to claim me as yours?” Chan asks when he softly puts you down on the bathroom counter, a bright smile painting his face once again.

like and reblog is much appreciated! ♡

divider by:@enchanthings

[emmyrosee]

“Hey,” you whisper, interrupting the moving droning on the tv. “You wanna fight?”

It’s boring in the apartment, the rain having washed out any prior date ideas you two had thrown around. Life outside is completely silenced from the cold droplets of water. You’d been cuddling on the couch for the past three hours, one random movie starting and ending, only to be followed with another one that Eijiro can’t bring himself to care about.

But hey. You’re cute. And you’re looking at him with mischief in your eyes. Might as well indulge you.

���Emotionally or physically?”

Eijiro’s never been the kind to take your negative bait, though he adores your positive ones; he’s always been able to read you like a book, keeping tabs on when you’re feeling playful or when something is truly bothering you, when you’re hungry or truly annoyed, and despite reading the novel time and time again, it’s one he continues to see through every day.

And right now, based on the cheeky look you’re giving him, he knows you’re too playful for your own good.

You gently knock your head against his, as if trying to provoke him in the cutest way possible, “I dunno; are you always this clueless?”

Physical.

He smirks, bringing a mammoth hand to cup the back of your neck, squeezing the meat of it gently, “I don’t know; you’re the one who agreed to date me.”

“What a mistake,” you scoff.

And yes, Eijiro likes to try and make you work for his attention when you’re feeling playful, he likes the little whines and pawing you send his way, the way you smother his face in non-penetrating bites and rough squishes of his cheeks with obscene and absurd words about how cute he is.

But sometimes, his hands hooking under your arms is plenty, as he forces you down onto the couch. Occasionally, the playful, fake punches he delivers to your laughing tummy do just the trick.

“You’re! So! Mean! To me!” He grunts between each gentle, barely connective tap. “Why!”

“Because!” You giggle, batting away his hands. You grip your hands over his and use all your strength to force his hands back away from you. Eijiro knows he could just as easily overwhelm you with his strength, but you look so happy to fight him off that he can’t bring himself to.

You send one push his way, barely strong enough to move him, but he humors you anyway and takes a tumble backwards, thick back hitting the cushions with a soft noise. With no waste of time, you climb on top of him and gather his wrists in your hands, pinning them on either side of his head.

“Now what?” He asks.

You smirk and lean down to press a noisy kiss to his nose, “mwah!”

He smiles and puckers his lips out for one on his lips, but you merely press one to his cheek, “mwah!”

“Babe-“

Then you move to his brow bone, “mwah!”

“Kiss me!”

“I am-“ you press a kiss to his chin, “mwah!”

He laughs and tries to intercept your kisses, moving his head side to side to try and catch them, but you merely dodge him. Every sticky kiss you press to his face, you accompany with a dramatic “mwah!” he groans with a few chuckles at the anguish of not being able to kiss you.

“Mercy!” He calls. “I’ll die if you don’t give me a real kiss. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

This has you pondering, jutting out your lower lip in thought before sighing dramatically, “no, I wouldn’t. Guess I like you or something.” You lean down to kiss his lips, and letting go of his hands when he gently tugs at them; you mewl as they wrap around you, relaxing you to lay on his chest and cuddling close as you part. "I really do like you, Eiji."

"You wanna know what's crazy?" He asks, and when you nod, he gently grabs your chin to look at him, "I really love you."

You blow him a kiss which he pretends to chomp the air to eat, dramatically swallowing while you giggle up at him.

He noses as your head before letting his eyes close, resting up for your next bout of playfulness.

[favefandomimagines]

Baby On Board (f.l)

Summary: Y/N is seven months pregnant and Frank is a nightmare

AN: I’m on a role with these Frank fics lol a request similar to this came through anonymously where there were multiple kiddos but I was thinking of maybe making each pregnancy its own story??? What do we think?

The ER didn’t stop—not for holidays, not for sleep, and definitely not for pregnancies.

Dr. Y/N Y/L/N knew that better than anyone.

At seven months pregnant, she still had her badge clipped to her scrub top, and stethoscope around her neck like she was still on month one.

The only real sign of slowing down came in the form of a tiny foot kicking her ribs every few hours, and the way her husband, Dr. Frank Langdon, treated her like she was wrapped in glass.

“Okay, tell me you’ve eaten something,” Frank said, appearing beside her at the nurse’s station. He had a sixth sense when it came to her whereabouts. He’d sniff her out like a bloodhound when he thought she’d gone too long without food or a break.

She gave him a tired smile, holding up half a granola bar like it was a gourmet meal. “I’m pacing myself.”

Frank squinted at it like it offended him. “That’s bird food. You need protein.”

“Frank, I’m fine.”

“You’re growing an entire person. ‘Fine’ is not good enough.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket and handed her a container of sliced apples and peanut butter. “From the cafeteria. It’s not garbage, I checked.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you married me anyway,” he grinned.

Y/N took a bite despite herself. “Only because you told me I had the best laparoscopic technique you’d ever seen.”

Frank leaned closer, voice dipping. “It was a sexy suture job. Changed my life.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. Frank Langdon was a walking contradiction—brilliant and serious when it came to medicine, but a complete puddle around her.

Ever since they’d found out about the baby, he’d been obsessed. With ultrasounds. With vitamins. With keeping her off anything remotely resembling a stressful case.

“You promised you’d only take consults today,” he reminded her, brushing a hand over the swell of her stomach. “No trauma. No GSWs. No knifed bar brawlers. Baby Langdon doesn’t need to hear screams yet.”

“Frank,” she said with a warning look.

“Y/N,” he said back, smiling but not backing down. “Let me be annoying. It’s my love language.”

By midafternoon, the ER was humming like it always did—a steady, chaotic rhythm of stretchers rolling, pages beeping, and voices shouting. Y/N had been reviewing a consult for a gallbladder patient when the overhead pager crackled to life.

“GSW incoming, ETA four minutes.”

The attending was in surgery. Frank was in another trauma bay. The only other senior resident was handling an incoming stroke in CT.

Which meant Y/N was the only one left.

She stood up instinctively, even as a nurse gave her a hesitant look. “Dr. Y/L/N, should I page someone else?”

“There’s no one else,” she said, already reaching for a gown and gloves. “Page the OR. Let them know we might need a room fast.”

“Are you sure—?”

“I’ve got it.”

The trauma bay exploded into motion the second the paramedics wheeled him in.

“Thirty-five-year-old male, GSW to the left abdomen, hypotensive in the field, unresponsive to fluids. GCS 9.”

Y/N was already in position. “Let’s go. Two large-bore IVs, type and cross, hang O-neg now. Get the FAST scan ready.”

The team scrambled. She barked orders while the tech applied the ultrasound probe to the man’s abdomen. Blood everywhere. Vitals crashing.

“He’s bleeding out,” someone said.

“Get me a thoracotomy tray,” Y/N called, pushing harder on the man’s belly. “We’re opening him up here if we have to.”

Her belly pressed into the stretcher as she leaned closer, hands slick with blood, the baby inside her shifting as if aware of the chaos around them.

“Pressure’s bottoming out—”

“He’s tamponading,” Y/N said. “OR now. We need to move.”

They barely stabilized him with a rapid transfusion before wheeling him up. Her gown was soaked in blood. She stripped it off as they rolled the patient away, rubbing at a red streak on her gown as she stepped out of Trauma 3.

And ran straight into Frank.

“Y/N!”

His voice was like a whip crack. She looked up just in time to see him sprinting down the hallway, his eyes wide with panic.

“What the hell happened? Why are you covered in blood? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, holding up her hands, even as he reached out and started patting her down like he was checking for wounds. ���Frank, I’m fine. It’s not mine.”

“You weren’t supposed to take any trauma calls!”

“There was no one else, Frank.”

He stared at her, face pale, then looked down at the stain on her trauma gown, the crimson gloves in her hand, and the sheen of sweat on her forehead.

“You’re seven months pregnant. You can’t be in there opening chests—”

“I didn’t open his chest. I stabilized him. Got him to the OR. The patient’s alive, Frank.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. For a second, he just looked at her—at the way she was standing tall, composed, despite the blood and exhaustion.

“You scared the hell out of me.”

She softened as she took the gown and gloves off. “I know.”

“I thought—” he stopped, swallowing hard. “I thought something happened. That someone didn’t notice you were pregnant and shoved you into a wall or—”

She stepped forward and touched his arm. “I’m still capable. Pregnancy didn’t erase my training.”

Frank pulled her into his arms anyway, holding her like he needed to convince himself she was real.

“You’re not a porcelain doll,” he mumbled into her hair. “I know that. But I—God, I just want you both safe.”

“I am safe,” she murmured. “Because I’m trained. Because I trust my judgment. And because I have a husband who follows me around with apples and prenatal vitamins.”

He let out a weak laugh, still holding her.

Later that night, after the trauma bay was clean and the adrenaline had drained from both of them, Frank found her in the break room. She was sitting on the couch, one hand on her stomach, eyes closed.

“You’re not gonna get away with that again, you know,” he said gently.

Y/N opened one eye. “With what?”

“Being the only senior resident and taking a GSW while seven months pregnant. I’m putting it in your permanent record.”

She smiled, too tired to argue. “How’s the patient?”

“Out of surgery. Stable. You saved his life.”

She nodded, a satisfied smile on her face, rubbing at her lower back.

“Come on,” Frank said, kneeling in front of her. “Turn.”

She did, and he began to rub slow, practiced circles into her back. “I’ve been reading up on prenatal massage,” he said casually. “This spot here? Supposed to relieve pressure.”

“You’re a nerd.”

“A nerd who loves you,” he murmured. “And this baby.”

The room was quiet except for the hum of the vending machine. Then she said softly, “I know I scared you. But I need you to believe that I know what I’m doing.”

“I do,” he said. “I really do. But believing in you and worrying about you don’t cancel each other out.”

She leaned back into his hands. “Deal.”

Frank reached up and kissed her cheek, lips lingering slightly.

Two weeks later, she officially went on leave. But every now and then, Frank would find her standing in the ER doorway, arms crossed over her stomach, watching.

And he’d walk over, press a kiss to her temple, and whisper, “Still capable.”

And she’d whisper back, “Still protective.”

And both were absolutely true.

[comicaurora]

sorry if this is out of left field but you seem to have a lot of good insights on emotions and self awareness so i thought you might be a good person to ask. do you know if theres any good way to deal with jealousy? like, the genuine "other people having/getting certain things makes me want to explode" kind of jealousy that sits in your brain making you feel guilty. (feel free to delete this ask if ur not cool with it btw, i know this is a weird thing to ask a stranger on the internet)

Oogh, that's a tough one.

I think jealousy is a bit of a weird little funhouse mirror. In my experience, while it feels like it's about the lives and achievements of others, it's structurally based on you comparing yourself to them, or rather using them as a metric to judge yourself by. It circles back around to a matter of self esteem. The person you're feeling jealous of isn't the target of the feeling - you are.

Jealousy can feel very poisonous, because it can make you feel extremely negatively towards innocent people, making you feel like a bad person for feeling that way. But it's totally normal to feel negatively towards people who don't deserve any actual negativity - feelings and moods are shaped by a huge number of internal factors, and as long as you don't take them out on the people themselves, you feeling some kinda way doesn't in any way make you a bad person. It just means you're in distress, and it would benefit you to figure out how to mitigate that distress. I don't trust how I feel about slow walkers and loud chewers after a long and overstimulating day, and the Bite Risk feeling I experience when those situations overlap doesn't mean I'm a bad person, it just means I need a nap.

Like most emotions, jealousy has a function and a purpose it serves. I think it's to give you an idea of your goals. It can be deceptively difficult to know what you want, in both the short and the long term. Seeing someone else get something and thinking "oh, that's what I want" can be a valuable first step in pursuing something. You might envy someone's achievements because you yourself want to achieve something you're proud of; you might envy someone's likable personality because you want more, closer friends. It's a reflection of you, not really about them at all.

When a feeling of jealousy pops up, I think it can be good to unpick it and process what exactly you're feeling jealous of. That's going to be the important, actionable thing that you can start intentionally pursuing for yourself. Envy of someone's appearance might actually be wanting their active, exciting lifestyle that sounds fun and energizing, or it could be wanting their confidence, or their financial security that keeps them dressed so nicely. Envy of someone's success could be wanting to accomplish a similar great work, or it could be a desire for fame, or for the close friends they seem to have made in their journey, or anything else.

It's not bad to want things. The only thing wrong with jealousy is the undertone that you could take this thing from the person who has it. You can't; that's not how it works. But you can sate the hunger for yourself if you can find the path forward.

[xxsinisterbunniexx]

Dating/ Relationship headcannons for eyeless jack? For female reader, please! Thank you!

Haha so like believe it or not I’ve started writing dating headcanons shortly after posting my general NSFW headcanons…. And then I got distracted

Also um so like me when I said I was gonna answer a bunch of requests over spring break and then proceeded to not answer a single one after that…. SO YEAH IM WORKING ON IT

Anyways…

𓆩♡𓆪 Creepypasta boys dating headcanons 𓆩♡𓆪

+love languages as a bonus

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack, BEN drowned, X Virus, Tim/Masky, Brian/Hoodie

Jeff the Killer

☠︎︎ physical touch, he’s very used to touch being used in a negative way, towards him or by him so soft touches would make him melt

☠︎︎ likes to have you in his lap

☠︎︎ like wdym you need a chair he’s right here???

☠︎︎ he flirts with you by being sarcastic and snarky ☠︎︎ so like you might think he hates you at first before you realize he has a crush on you

☠︎︎ not great with his words/expressing his feelings

☠︎︎ you’d need to have thick skin to be with him, because he will definitely say things he doesn’t mean during an argument

☠︎︎ and he LIKES to argue, so if you hate conflict he’s probably not for you

☠︎︎ jealous and a bit possessive too, so you’d have to be careful about how you talk to other people and how often you do so

☠︎︎ he needs a LOT of reassurance and attention but he won’t ask for it directly, he’ll just get snappy and mean without an explanation

☠︎︎ it’s not always obvious why he’s upset so he’d need to be with someone who is both perceptive and patient

☠︎︎ he’s not the best at figuring out why you’re upset, so direct communication is best for him

☠︎︎ ride or die tbh, he doesn’t like very many people so if you’ve somehow wooed him you ain’t ever getting away

Ticci Toby

✘ touchtouchtouch

✘ he can’t feel pain or temperature so he values the things he can feel

✘ his hands are always on you in some capacity

✘ he’ll have his arm around you, he’ll hold your hand, and he LOVES it when you hold his arm

✘ he’ll also bear hug you and pick you up whenever he sees you (and he expects you to run into his arms)

✘ kinda OBNOXIOUS lol, like he’s the type of bf who does shit to annoy you just because he likes to see you get all riled up

✘ pokes your nose, licks your face, bites you, anything to get your attention

✘ no press is bad press

✘ the way he expresses love and affection is… unconventional

✘ like will sometimes just be so over the top and cannot read the situation

✘ he’d be very blunt in how he feels about you and generally is uninhibited when speaking about his feelings

✘ This can sometimes lead to issues so would need thick skin if you’re gonna date him

✘ he’s spontaneous and super energetic so you either need to be someone who can match that energy or super go with the flow

✘ has trouble seeing things from your perspective sometimes, but in an argument he doesn’t get all heated he just shuts down

✘ so he’d definitely do better with someone who’s not very temperamental

✘He’s a wild ride but if you can be down with all he’s got going on, he’ll stay in a long term relationship

Eyeless Jack

𖤐 gifts! He would definitely be bringing you back little trinkets

𖤐 it could be fun and pretty things he’s found while he’s out or little snacks/your favorite drink, etc

𖤐 just anything he can bring you to show you he was thinking of you

𖤐 treats you like you are dainty because he’s scared of breaking you

𖤐 he loves so gently

𖤐 makes sure you know you are valued by him

𖤐 regularly tells you he loves you, that you’re beautiful, he appreciates you

𖤐 plans the cutest dates and really likes to take you out

𖤐 the dates would be super tailored to what you’re into

𖤐 arguments are more like open discussions and he genuinely wants to help you change and grow as a person

𖤐 he’s a bit protective and only slightly jealous, no more than anyone else really

𖤐 he doesn’t want to hold you back in anyway really so he doesn’t often tell you what to do

𖤐 he would do best with someone who’s softer and less judgmental, he has a lot of shame around his eating habits and feeling like a monster

𖤐 he tends to give more than he takes so he’d do better with someone who’s also very generous that way there’d be equal dynamics between you two

BEN drowned

⚠︎ quality time, but not so much in the way of just liking to be around, he likes if you actually make plans to see him, even if it’s just to hang out

⚠︎ loves to play video games with you and he gets competitive

⚠︎ somewhat like Toby he is a little shit!

⚠︎ like he just LOVES to annoy the fuck out of you

⚠︎ he just thinks you’re wayyyy too cute when you’re angry

⚠︎ really likes to show off who he’s with

⚠︎ will buy you clothes, makeup, etc really anything to doll you up and show you off

⚠︎ once you are official he will be telling everyone in the existence of ever

⚠︎ especially because…

⚠︎ he’s SUPER POSSESSIVE like oh god HE’S SICK

⚠︎ like if someone LOOKS at you a little too long he’s got a problem

⚠︎ god forbid someone hits on you

⚠︎ but rather than taking it up with you, he just secretly ruins their life

⚠︎ he may not always be the best partner, he can lack empathy at times and arguments with him are a nightmare because he will twist your words and may manipulate you lightly

⚠︎ will randomly come through when it really matters

⚠︎ would do better with someone who’s (and forgive me here for my choice of word) a bit tsundere-like

⚠︎ he likes someone who takes effort to win over because he loves the chase

⚠︎ he also likes if you’re easy to embarrass or get a reaction out of

⚠︎ your relationship will feel like constant push and pull

X Virus

☣︎ acts of service

☣︎ Cody is a problem solver and will do what he can to make you happy and help you when there’s things troubling you

☣︎ at the same time, he has periods where he gets really invested into what he’s studying and may not pay attention to you for days

☣︎ so if you’re caring and will support him while he gets like that >>>>

☣︎ like bringing him food, helping with his laundry, etc (daily tasks he would need to do but he’s too hyper focused to take care of himself)

☣︎ you may have to convince him to shower during these periods

☣︎ would likely be pretty inexperienced in romance

☣︎ would defo be one of those guys that gets exponentially hotter after getting a girlfriend because she teaches him how to dress and be presentable

☣︎ rambles on about his experiments so you would ideally be a good listener and someone who will engage with him even if you have no idea what he’s talking about

☣︎ not super jealous but has CRAZY accurate senses when it comes to someone actually liking you and subtly flirting with you

☣︎ it’s like a siren goes off in his brain and then he’s like “not that person”

☣︎ pussy whippedddddd like once he’s into you you’ve got him on his KNEES

☣︎ got him opening doors and carrying heavy stuff like shittttttt

Tim/Masky

꩜ acts of service

꩜ Tim is not always the best with his words and can be kind of awkward so he’d rather just do things to show he cares

꩜ protective almost in like a dad way, like would make sure your car had all the fluids and maintenance it needs (can u tell I know nothing about cars)

꩜ or you’d randomly mention something you want and it’ll magically appear

꩜ he’s very practical, so dates and anniversaries are not too over the top, he keeps it simple

꩜ he’d do best with someone who’s more chill and laid back

꩜ he’s slow to open up and not the best at discussing his feelings so someone who is patient & perceptive is better for him

꩜ if it’s cold he always wants you to take his jacket (also loves to see you in it)

꩜Chivalry ain’t dead while he’s around

꩜ doesn’t get jealous often, he’s pretty mature

꩜ he’s very closed off and secretive about the parts of his life that he’s not proud of, so he’d need to be with someone who’s comfortable with not knowing everything

꩜ this also means it would take you a while to meet Masky

☆ Masky isn’t around all that often so you won’t get a ton of attention from him

☆ he views you as more of a pet than a girlfriend

☆ will give you the occasional head pat or say something flirtatious which often borders on sexual harassment

Brian/Hoodie

𖣐 words of affirmation

𖣐 he likes to be told that he is valued!

𖣐 but also loves to compliment you, and he is quite charming

𖣐 LOVES to tease

𖣐 he’s constantly taking pictures of you or recording you

𖣐has a picture of you in his wallet

𖣐 writes you little love notes and hides them in places you’ll find them easily

𖣐 he’s really perceptive so you can’t easily hide your feelings around him

𖣐 he will call bullshit if you try to say “no, I’m not mad” because he KNOWS

𖣐 not really jealous at all tbh

𖣐 if someone hits on you he takes it as a compliment

𖣐 like yeah he knows you’re hot

☹ You don’t see Hoodie for a while

☹ because lowkey he acts like a stalker at first even though you’re dating Brian and therefore also him

☹ he wouldn’t just come up and approach you, he has to be a weirdo and watch you from the shadows

☹ like just come talk to me you freak

☹ he will also leave you letters but they’re a little more sinister than Brian’s and in places that are off putting

☹ eventually he’d approach you, but like Masky he more so sees you as something to toy with rather than a girlfriend (even though his affection for you is definitely deep in there somewhere)

Hope you enjoyed :3

[borathae]

Kiss the Cook

“Yoongi loves to cook for you. You love to watch him as he does and soon you can’t take it anymore. You have to kiss him or you will implode.”

Pairing: Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Slice of Life, domestic Fluff

Warnings: cutie!Yoongi, Yoongi being a sexy cook, i said what i said, he blushes!, she feeds him some tangerines <3, as she sits on the kitchen counter, making out on said counter, Yoongi in a woolen jumper, idk but this is so hot to me and therefore needs a warning, they’re grossly in love!!!, i want what they have #bigsad

Wordcount: 2.7k

a/n: i love him, i love them, i love her, i love this :( enjoy besties, oy!Yoongi is going to be the fucking death of me fjdjasf he is such a cutie ❤ ps: does a story sometimes make you feel so single or discontent with your current love life that you want to claw your own eyes out? yeah. this is that story for me. i want what they have fuxkxk they feel so mature and settled and :( grrr spreading negativity all around me grrrr

You invited Yoongi over for dinner and wine. Which means that he comes over to your place to cook while you watch him and sip on wine. Now, this isn’t because you are lazy or you are forcing him to cook. On the contrary, it was Yoongi’s idea. He loves cooking for you, so you learned, and these little dinner dates have become a regular thing in your relationship.

And it is perfect. You get to see him and talk to him. He gets to do something he loves whilst talking to you. And at the end of it, you can share the yummiest dinner ever and experience a giddy tingle in your stomachs.

You invited him over tonight for exactly such a dinner date. You dressed up in a thick jumper and some woolen socks and even did your hair.

It has been snowing rather vividly all day, turning the roads into one powdery white plane with the rest of the world. The weeping willow in front of your sunroom is bending under the weight of the snow and the frozen stream is covered under a heavy layer of it as well. It is such a beautiful view, making you happy to be inside where it is warm and cozy.

Levi, your cute little cat, hasn’t left his spot by the fireplace all day. He spends most of his winter days napping where it is warm or watching the very few winter birds eat from your bird feeder. He will not leave for outside, however, that much is sure. It is way too much work to soil his good fur with sticky, wet snow.

You check the time again. Ten past eight. Yoongi should have been here by eight. You pace in front the sunroom windows, looking at the faint lights where his house might be. He decorated the outside with lots of Christmas lights and on the nights where you miss him, you like to stand in the sunroom and look up at the lights. Whenever you do, it feels as if he was right there with you. 

Tonight however, the view makes you uneasy. Where is Yoongi and why isn’t he here yet? Did he slip and hit his head? Did a huge chunk of snow fall on him and he is now buried alive somewhere? Is he stuck somewhere? Did he forget?

Nervously biting your own nails, you hurry to the front door to take another peek outside. 

“Oh, shit!” Yoongi exclaims, stumbling back and almost dropping the grocery bags he is carrying under his arms.

You flinch back too, not having expected him to literally stand right in front of the door in the midst of ringing your bell.

“Sorry, you scared me”, he apologises for his cursing. He is bundled into the thickest winter coat ever, wearing a beanie, scarf and gloves with it. His snow pants are covered in snow up to his thighs, his winter boots are basically white from all the snow. The last few inches of his coat are opened. Holly, wearing a little beanie as well, is peeking out from it. Yoongi must have bundled him up in it to keep him warm. The view is adorable.

“You scared me too. I wanted to check if I could spot you. Come in”, you say, stepping out of the doorway.

“Yeah, sorry for being late. I underestimated the height of the snow. I had to fight my way down here without falling on my butt. I waddled like I was ninety.” 

“No worries, I’m just so happy that you’re here now and that you’re safe. I already pictured the worst scenarios ever.” 

Yoongi chuckles, “I survived. Barely, but I survived.”

You laugh. He is so funny, making you laugh again when he struggles with undressing.

“Wait. Let me take the bags so you have your hands free.”

“Thanks.” 

“Of course, I’ll carry them to the kitchen if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead, I’ll be with you soon.”

You are in the midst of unpacking the groceries when Yoongi and Holly join you in the kitchen. Holly greets you first, jumping up your leg and barking excitedly. 

You coo, picking him up to let him lick your face. 

“I missed you too, you little stinker. Aw big kissies, yes big kissies.”

“He really missed you”, Yoongi says, walking to you. 

“Yeah, I missed him too.” You hand him Holly. “And I missed his dad even more. Hey there, handsome”, you say, stealing a kiss. 

Yoongi smiles into it, rubbing your waist as the kiss breaks.

“Hey there, beautiful. I missed you too.” He says and then takes a step back to set down Holly. The little toy poodle instantly sets off to explore your home and look for Levi. 

Yoongi studies your get-up, “I love what you did with your hair. It suits you.”

“Thank you, heh. I tried something new.”

“It’s nice, really beautiful.”

“Thankies. Uhm, wine?” You offer. “I might have already started without you because I was picturing you dying somewhere.”

He laughs, “what a relaxing thing to do. I won’t say no to some wine, thank you.”

You prepare him a glass, then cheer with him. He enjoys it with a hum. Afterwards he touches your hip and kisses your cheek. You lean into it, smiling from ear to ear. He is always so gentle with you. You love it so much.

“I hope that you’re hungry. I’m making risotto tonight”, Yoongi says.

“Yes risotto! I love risotto. I haven’t eaten since twelve because I wanted to be really hungry tonight.” 

Yoongi smiles and begins. He puts on the apron you made for him and rolls up his sleeves. Well, at least he tries to because you stop him before he can.

“Wait, let me.”

He gazes at your face as you work, cheeks slightly flushed and heart racing. 

“Thanks”, he whispers, trying oh so hard not to expose how giddy he actually feels. Spoiler alert, he feels very giddy. You are always so tender with him. He loves it so much.

Yoongi is wearing a brown jumper made out of the softest wool. It is warm and sits on his body in the most perfect of ways. His chest and back are defined in it, but he still looks snuggly. You feel so attracted to him that it is difficult not to bite him. In an adoring way of course. 

It also isn’t helping that he is wearing your favourite cologne and a watch which really fits his wrist. Once his sleeves are rolled up, you can’t help but feel up his arms just once. You trace his veins, squeeze him and play with his fingers.

Yoongi chuckles lazily, closing his hands around yours.

“Is this still part of the service?” 

“No, this was for me. You look really sexy in this jumper.”

He smiles and pulls you close to steal a kiss. You give it to him with a fluttering heart, gazing deep into his eyes once it breaks. He has the most beautiful eyes.

“I put it on for you. Because you once said that you like me in a jumper.”

“I do. I could bite you, I’m serious.”

“Please don’t”, he laughs and pecks your cheek, “I’ll be quick with dinner, promise. No biting needs to happen.”

“Maybe a little bit of biting.”

He laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“If I knew that I would be dating a biter, I might have reconsidered”, he jokes, busy with setting up some pans.

“You like it. Don’t lie”, you say and sit down on the kitchen counter.

“Maybe I do.”

You snicker, picking up a tangerine to peel it as he cooks.

And so it begins. One of the coziest and most beloved date activity as a couple. He cooks while you watch him. There are only a few things better than this. 

You have the radio playing. Christmas songs because it is almost time for the holidays. The tangerine fills the air with a cozy scent and the wine tastes especially good. Whenever you and he aren’t lost in conversation, you can listen to Yoongi hum to the songs on the radio. He has a very nice singing voice. Deep and warm. You could listen to it for hours. Just as you could listen to him talk for hours.

“How are your legs by the way? Did the snow soak through your snow pants?” you ask him, staring at his butt. 

It isn’t your fault, he is wiggling it to the music. It is his fault that you have to take a sneaky look.

“Mhm? No, my legs are fine. The snow didn’t soak through.”

“That’s good to hear. How was your day?”

“It was good. I fixed some things in the upstairs bathroom and started with the chaulking.”

Yoongi is still renovating his house. It is a very big project and he isn’t stressing himself, so it’s been taking some time already. You don’t mind. It just means that he will have to stay over more often whenever the building site is too dirty. Quite frankly, a part of you secretly wishes for the renovations to take forever just so he will keep coming over to sleep in your bed. You really love having him sleep in your bed. Not only because he is a total cuddlebug (don’t spread these news to anyone, he is very shy about it) or because he always smells so good, but also because you feel safer with him close. 

“Chaulking? Wow, this sounds like process”, you say.

“Yeah, it’s been going really well lately.” He turns for a moment. “And you? Did you have a good day?”

“I had a really good day. I made some progress on the scarf and then did some yoga. Tangerine?” 

Yoongi closes the distance, snacking on the slice you’re offering.

“This sounds like a good day. You have to be finished soon, don’t you?”

“Yeah, it's almost finished, which is very exciting if you asked me.���

You are currently knitting a scarf and have been regularly sending updates to Yoongi via text messages. His reactions to the messages vary from “good job!” all the way to the very rare and precious thumbs up emoji. He is honestly such a cutie.

“I can imagine. Do you have a new project in mind after you finish the scarf?” Yoongi takes one more slice of tangerine before he returns to the stove. 

While you begin telling him about all the knitting project ideas you have. You don’t leave out any details. The material of the yarn, the design, the colours, even what kind of stitches you plan on using. And Yoongi listens gladly, he asks questions and reacts with his very endearing version of enthusiasm. It means so much to you. Being loved by him is so fulfilling. You feel so important, as if your existence has purpose. There is not one thing about you which isn’t important to him or which you feel like you have to hide from him.

It might sound strange, but being loved by him is so freeing. You feel so whole and so happy and you love him so much in return. 

Yoongi steals one more slice of tangerine, staying close to you afterwards as he slices some mushrooms for the risotto.

“And what about you? Any new music projects you are working on?” you ask him, switching your adoring gaze between his face and his hands. He has such sexy hands.

“Yes, so many”, he says, nodding his head.

“Tell me everything.”

You listen to everything he has to tell you, gazing at him with the biggest heart eyes. He is so interesting and exciting. His hobbies are so wonderful to listen to. As much as you love talking to him, you love listening just as much.

Yoongi feels content with you. He feels utterly and completely happy. There is nothing missing with you. When he is with you, he feels whole and like himself. There is not even the littlest thing about him he feels like he has to hide from you and whenever he comes out of one of his accidental monologues about his interests, he isn’t met with boredom but enthusiasm and questions. Truly, his nerdy little heart swells thrice its size when he is with you. 

A moment of silence follows after you and he exchanged interests. Happy and jazzy Christmas music fills it. Yoongi picks up the cutting board, carrying it to the pan so he can sauté the mushrooms in some butter. He adds the rice afterwards, seasoning it before he pours white wine into the pan. He pours some of the wine in his glass afterwards, closing the distance to clink glasses with you. 

“To this evening”, he says, smiling one of his pretty, soft smiles he always does.

“To this evening and to you, the best boyfriend ever.” 

“Be quiet”, he mumbles and drinks from his glass, looking to the side shyly. He blushes.

“Never. You need to know”, you say and lean in to munch on his cheek. 

“Hey. No biting”, he laughs as he complains, moving back. 

“Mhm, then how about I kiss the cook instead?” you say, setting the wine aside to pull him closer.

He lets you tug him between your legs, smiling at you and setting the wine aside. His eyes fall to your lips, his hands dance along a path which consists of your waist, hips and the side of your thighs.

“You’ve got a minute before I have to get back to the risotto”, he says.

“Then let me make the best of it”, you say, pulling him into a kiss. 

How you make the best of this one minute. You kiss him as if you missed him for a million years, as if you needed him for survival, as if his lips are all you ever wished for. It might only be a minute, but Yoongi comes out of this kiss with slightly wobbly knees and a racing heart. His cheeks are flushed, his lower lip tingles as you end the kiss by biting on it gently. 

“What was that for?” his voice is raspy, his eyes foggy as they gaze at your lips.

“Just felt like it”, you whisper, playing with his soft hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Should we like, I don’t know, should I remove the pan from the stove for a moment?” 

You laugh, scrunching your nose. You know what he is insinuating, stomach tingling at the aspect of it.

“And why should you do that?” you tease him, tinting his cheeks an even deeper pink. He curses under his breath, giving your hips a gentle squeeze.

“You drive me crazy, you know. First kissing me like this and then acting innocent.”

“Shouldn’t you check on the rice?”

Yoongi lets out a whine of discontent, but breaks away from you to stir the rice. He glances at you. You retort the glances, heart racing like crazy. His hair is a little messy because you played with it as you kissed him. His lips are slightly puffy and flushed pink. Quite frankly, he has never looked more attractive than he does right now in your little kitchen wearing the black apron you made for him as he cooks you dinner and seems just a little ruffled from your kiss. 

You lift the glass of wine to your equally as puffy lips, giving him an eye smile as you sip the sweet alcohol. Yoongi blushes, shifting his gaze to dinner. He rolls his lower lip between his teeth mindlessly while his hands are busy with pouring chicken stock over the rice. 

You and he both feel the electric sparkles in the air. The feeling is addicting, just as it is addicting to spend time with each other. You just work so well together, you are so right. 

“You know”, you begin.

“Yes, baby?” he answers you, voice warm and caring.

“I love having you over.” 

He glances again. His eyes sparkle, his teeth show in the shiest of smiles.

“I can look at you, I get to listen to you and talk to you. I love it.”

“Yeah, I love it too.”

“And I get to kiss you. It’s pretty awesome.”

He looks at your lips, raising your pulse with it.

“You know. I, theoretically, have one minute again”, he says, giving you puppy eyes.

You laugh because you love when he flirts. You set the wine aside, making grabby hands at him.

“Then come here and make it count.”

Yoongi sets the spoon aside, closing the distance. How he is going to make it count.

[astrocafecoffee]

Astro observation (part 2)

✨ For entertainment purposes only, enjoy ✨

✨ MASTERLIST

✨ ASTRO OBS. (PART 1)

🔥 Taurus sun individuals usually eat slowly and savor their food enjoying each bite. They dislike being rushed during meals.

🔥 Sagittarius rising peoples thrive on variety in their excercise routine. They might regularly switch between different types of workouts to keep things interesting.

🔥 Capricorn rising peoples might enjoy dishes like roasted meats , stews and well balanced meals that provide both comfort and nourishment.

🔥 Sagittarius sun - very good in mathematics and calculation.

🔥 Groom conjunct your vertex/ Hera asteroid in draconic synastry can indicate they being your spouse/ you have a soul tie with them.

🔥 I have seen many Libra 12th house peoples often have people pleasing tendencies and have problems with creating healthy boundaries.

🔥 11th House mars people's communication style with friends can be direct and assertive, which can sometimes come across as agressive if not managed carefully.

🔥 Mercury in its debilitated sign ( Pisces) individuals may struggle with tasks that require precision, detailed analysis or strict logic.

🔥 I have seen when someone's 9th lord in their 12th house or vice versa , they often marry people from other states, cultures, and countries .

🔥 Aries moons can be quick to anger but also quick to forgive and forget.

🔥 juno in 7th house of Groom persona chart means your fs is your wish fulfilment, ( dreams come true 👀)

🔥 Virgo placements may excel in stock market.

🔥 Aries placements tend to tackle problems head on with immediate action. They prefer to address issues rather than letting them linger or escalate.

🔥 water placements are obsessed with beaches and coastal environments , where Earth signs with mountains.

🔥 I have also seen this many water placements either love water areas or hate it. There's no in between. I have seen cancer moons/ Pisces rising peoples having thalassophobia.

🔥 in Vedic astrology, Rahu in 7th house / rahu conjunct Venus/ rahu conjunct 7th lord indicates foreign spouse.

🔥 Webb asteroid in natal 11th house is self explanatory 🙃.

🔥 prey Asteroid ( 6157) in 4th house individuals often see their home as refuge where they can shield themselves from outside world. If it's negative side manifests in someone's life then there might be themes of feeling vulnerable or taking advantage within the family and home environment.

🔥 Gemini placements individuals are often misunderstood by peoples.

🔥 cancer moons emotional up and downs can weaken their immune system , making them more vulnerable to infections.

🔥 Scorpio placements likes to feel in control of their surroundings and emotions and they fear situations where they feel powerless.

🔥 Aquarius mars peoples value their independence highly and can be quite stubborn about doing things their way.

🔥 Jupiter in Aquarius people may involved in activism , volunteering or supporting charitable organisations.

🔥water moons , Capricorn placements often prone to depression.

🔥 Venus in Capricorn peoples may fear being vulnerable or getting hurt , which is why they often appear guarded more in relationships.

🔥 Aries mars often have fear of rejection . If they sense any hint of rejection they might quickly pull back or move on to avoid facing their fear.

🔥Pluto in Sagittarius peoples maybe fascinated by esoteric subjects, occult and hidden truths. This interest in the mystical and unknown can lead them to explore astrology, tarot or other metaphysical studies.

🔥 Asteroid Medusa conjunct midheaven in natal chart means this individual's career may dealing with controversial and taboo subjects , leading to transformation and growth. They could work in fields related to psychology, healing, crisis management or any area that requires confronting difficult truths.

🔥 Asteroid Born conjunct juno in synastry suggest a relationship that feels spiritually significant , with a strong sense of being " meant to be" or karmic linked.

🔥 Hera asteroid conjunct sun in synastry means the Hera person might view the sun person as an ideal partner, seeing them as someone can commit to for the long term . This aspect can indicate a relationship that has potential to lead to marriage or a deep , committed relationship.

Thanks for reading 🖤

- piko ✨

[returnofeternity]

hear me out, tattoo artist nat getting freaky when a new customer comes in and wants to get her first tattoo on her lowerback or like on her cleavage (plus, if possible the dear customer looks too innocent to get a tattoo?)

you searched for only the best (and cheapest, you're on a bit of a budget here...) tattoo shops in the city. the name that kept popping up on almost every search was natalie scatorccio from 2525 tattoos.

she had the best reviews by far. barely any negative ones, and if they were low, they always ended with how nice she was and how she gave them a discount if they disliked the end result.

so you booked her. talked to her a bit on the phone and explained what it was that you were going for, and soon enough, you were walking through the front doors of the shop, nervous as fuck, and looking for the most "natalie" looking person in here.

you shuffle up to the front where some guy is. "hi, i have an appointment with natalie at 2."

after giving him your name blah, blah, blah, you follow him to the back where he tells you to sit and get comfortable while he fetches "nat."

you sit nervously on the black tattoo bed, looking around at all the picture frames and tat supplies as you try to calm your racing mind. you're intimidated. this place might be too cool for you.

just as you reach over to inspect a stencil on the table, a dark-haired girl walks in, making you jump back in embarrassment.

she chuckles at you and you flush, especially after getting a good look at her. gosh, she's handsome and gorgeous at the same time.

"you're my 2 o'clock?" she asks skeptically while placing down some ink. "the cleavage tat?"

"yeah..." you mumble, gulping hard as she walks around you to set up. her perfume makes you dizzy. "why, did you have someone else scheduled?"

"no, you just don't seem the type. too innocent looking." she smiles and bites her lip, snapping the black gloves on her hand. "i like it."

· · 𖦹 · ·

thinking about nat touching your body after telling you to scoot up on the bed just so she can feel you... nat who says "good girl" when you scoot to where she wants you.

nat who helps you out of your shirt and undoes your bra for you, nat who accidentally brushes her gloved hand against your nipple as she places it to the side.

nat who tells you that it's perfectly fine if your nipples get hard and not to get embarrassed.

nat who's in for a long ride when you whimper the second she starts inking you up... she loves it. but you need to relax so she can do it without fucking it up. she's whispering for you to take deep breaths while her thumb is rubbing your hips, just as affected as you are because as she looks down at you, face flushed and lip trapped beneath your teeth, you look so innocent.

nat who has to hold onto your breast as she does the tattoo. nat who jokes about how hard your nipple is while she subtly gropes it.

nat who notices how you're trying to rub your thighs together.

nat who has to stop what she's doing to hold your chest down because you keep arching your back the closer she gets to your nipple 😵‍💫 you knew it would be somewhat ticklish plus painful getting this type of tattoo, but you didn't know it would turn you on so much... you feel so pathetic.

nat who asks if you want her to apply numbing cream... you agree because you think you might die of embarrassment if you let out another whine disguised as a cough. it happens again when she rubs it on your nipples :(

nat who gives you her number after she's done, telling you to text/call her if you need something like advice for aftercare. thinking of her face when you send pictures of your chest, asking if bleeding is normal. she has to touch herself to it...

nat who is very excited when you book another tattoo appointment with her :)

[p1utofairy]

★ WHICH COMIC BOOK COUPLE ARE YOU AND YOUR PERSON MOST LIKE?

NOTE — love and light my babies ⭐️🧿 take what resonates, leave what doesn’t. for entertainment purposes only. your feedback is always so greatly appreciated, enjoy!

— PILE 1.

channeled couple(s) → batman x catwoman + jean grey x cyclops.

your person is a very hands-on, actively involved and dynamic individual who thrives in fast-paced environments. they’re very resourceful and can turn a negative into a positive in the blink of an eye – a true problem solver if you will. they learn things/adapt quicker than most and i feel like a lot of people regard them as an amazing friend. your person is very inquisitive and always wants to know more. once they complete a task, they’re on to the next; it can be hard to pin them down for long periods of time. they might move around a lot physically (could have OCD) but i’m more so picking up that they’ve lived here, there and everywhere.

they’re always on the go! i’m also picking up that your person is a little bit of a control freak but gosh they can't help it; they truly love to lead and be of service. you’re gonna find this so hot lowkey lol which is funny because i think you typically go for someone that let’s you control things and have the upper hand but with this person it’s not like that. their sense of control is different though — it’s not possessive, like “you’re mine!” or “no, you can’t go out wearing that!” instead, it’s more about seeing you struggle with something and insisting on helping you with it. you might say, “no, i’ve got it,” but they’ll respond, “here, just let me…” you get frustrated because you just said you could handle it, but there they go, taking it from your hands and easing the stress and pain you were carrying. wow, that was such a descriptive scenerio but it just randomly came to me lol. it’s giving 6H energy!

11:11 on the clock i’m blushing hehe your person is super sweet and chivalrous it’s very charming, pile 1. don’t even get me started on their physique WHEW you’re gonna love their arms/biceps…your person might even have a lot of tattoos (i’m seeing sleeve tats) and i can just see you fighting the urge to playfully bite them lol. they could be very athletic and go to the gym a lot. now switching gears, the comic book couples that similarly mirrors your connection is jean grey x cyclops + batman and catwoman. some of y’all might be rolling your eyes at the mention of jean and scott (my wolverine girlies i’m talking to you) but HERE ME OUT and let me cook!

i feel like you’re more of a wanderer and don’t care to be as involved as your person is, if that makes sense? gypsy by fleetwood mac just started playing in my mind. trials and tribulations throughout your life might have caused you to turn inwards, and you feel unsure about what it is your supposed to be doing/where life is exactly taking you. your presence is more calm and still and your person is again, more hands on and out there. like jean grey, you are very clever and passionate but there’s a temperamental side to you. you might have strong air sign placements in your chart because i feel that you’re very rational about your emotions – sometimes to a fault. i think you hold back a lot of the times (especially when it comes to love) in fear of hurting other people’s feelings or just being misunderstood. some of you could have people-pleasing tendencies. your person gives that scott summers vibe because their actions are typically driven by a sense of duty rather than a desire to please others.

whether you know it or not, you wield a lot of power and sometimes i think people take your kindness for weakness. what your person is really going to admire about you is how intentional you are especially when it comes to giving/receiving love. you are so gentle and kind with your person – soooo doting and attentive. you two deadass have a telepathic connection cause when one person is feeling off, the other one can sense it. your person is also tryna be funny and say that you’re used to dealing with logans (wolverine) but they’re coming to change that. LMAOOOO your person is funny as fuck if you couldn’t already tell.

you both compliment each other so well, spiritually and physically. that’s why i also channeled batman x catwoman because y’alls vibe just gives that. y’all know those crazy ass tiktok/IG comments when people are like i need to see the tape PLS yeah…y’all evoke that reaction from people. you both find each other incredibly sexy like the sexual tension between you both is gonna be insaneeeee. i’m also sensing a bit of a bratty energy coming from your end in terms of the attention your person gets lol they might be very sought after. it’s reminding of the ending scene of ‘the batman’ when selena is urging batman to come with her and part of him is superrrr tempted but duty calls. i promise you that your person only wants you, though. like i’m being so deadass when i say that they’re literally gonna be devoted to you.

OTHER CHANNELED MESSAGES —

“i work alone”, you might be used to the wolverine types but what you really need is a scott summers, back to black by amy winehouse, spotless mind by jhené aiko, maneater by nelly furtado, dylan, slayyyter, dua lipa, ESFJ, ISTJ, resemblance to callum turner, 333, sagittarius, 6H cancer, capricorn rising, 555.

— PILE 2.

channeled couple(s) → daredevil x elektra + rogue x gambit.

oooo right off the bat i’m hearing stand still by sabrina claudia. you’re so unaware that we're feeling, the same thing, the same damn thing…time is standing still and why are we still here? interesting, pile 2. very interesting! you and your person are more alike than you would think. from the outside you both appear very different, but energetically you both are sooo compatible. i’m hearing “from different worlds” and being drawn to the movie aladdin lol maybe that’s one of your favorite disney movies or your person’s? i think that’s why i was picking up on elektra x daredevil because it’s like…you and your person’s upbringing differed in a way but there’s a common ground in terms of how it’s shaped you both. one of you is more forward and hasty while the other is more reluctant and calculated.

you feel very confined and limited…like your environment is just so repetitive and boring. you’ve been hoping for something new to manifest – and you feel like you’re on the brink of it, it’s like you can almost reach out and touch it. for most of you, this is in regards to your connection with this person but for other’s it’s a job/traveling opportunity of some sort. you could possibly live in a very small town or somewhere that doesn’t have a lot to offer/keep you occupied. you’re about to see some progress sooner than you think, pile 2. give it about 1-3 months and watch how the magic happens! sagittarius season could be very significant for you.

your person is going to come into your life HOT and HEAVY, omg. you’re gonna be like wait wtf when did you get here?! nobody’s supposed to be here by deborah cox is playing in my head now – i’ve tried that love thing for the last time…my heart says no, no! nobody's supposed to be here…but you came along and changed my mind. LMAOOOO well pile 2 get ready cause your person is gonna sweep you off your damn feet. now it makes sense why i channeled rogue x gambit for you two because it’s like you’re taking of risk of some sort…the risk being your heart. trusting someone romantically is like risky business for you.

you’re so used to being able to predict outcomes and know what’s going to happen next, but with this person uhn uhn things are not so black and white. actually, there’s a lot of grey areas and that’s what’s going to scare you yet intrigue you about this person. you’re so rogue coded, awww. rogue has the ability to absorb the powers and memories of others through touch, so that makes her very guarded and reluctant to form close relationships. gambit is intrigued by her, but she is wary of him. i see this being similar to you and your person’s interactions…there might be an initial hesitation on your end but there’s an undeniable chemistry between the two of you!

your person is similar to gambit who is a smooth-talking, charming, and rough around the edges type of character. he’s very drawn to rogue’s beauty and strength (and similar to you) her self-imposed isolation and emotional baggage makes her hesitant to open up to him. i’m definitely picking up on the slow-burn trope for y’all, pile 2. although you really want this connection you might feel held back by self-doubt and fear intimacy/vulnerability. you’ve gotta work through this slowly but surely, my loves. it’s not easy but it’s necessary because this person absolutely loves you, pile 2. they’d put everything on the line for you if they had to.

just like gambit, this person will always be deeply in love with you no matter how much you try to shut them out or act like your feelings aren’t as deep as they really are. i also just want to mention that your person has such a way with words like UGH the way they say things/articulate themselves is gonna have you going feral lol they’re so knowledgeable and persuasive. it doesn’t help that they’re fine as fuck too lol you’re gonna be mentally shadow-boxing your anxiety whenever you’re around them because they’re just soooo damn charming fr!

i’m also being drawn to one of the biggest themes of rogue and gambit’s relationship which is rogue not being able to physically touch him without absorbing his memories and abilities – which is something that frightens her, not only because it could harm him but also because it’s something that strips away everything from the person she’s touching. now y’alls situation is obviously not that dramatic, but i am picking up that some of you that picked this pile could be virgins or celibate. i feel like the wait will make you both become even closer.

OTHER CHANNELED MESSAGES —

you make wanna by usher, “i never thought this was possible”, bit of a wild card (no pun intended), fiery personality, leo/aquarius placements, you’re their best friend, love on the brain by rihanna.

— PILE 3.

channeled couple → wanda maximoff x vision.

you and your person are too stinkin’ cute, pile 3. lmaooo i know that sounds so corny and cheesy but your person puts you in this kind of mood. the sun is shining sooo bright as i’m writing this. it’s like you light up their life and vice versa. you remind them of a warm summer day at the beach where you’re free to just roam around, have ice cream and relax. you’re like a breath of fresh air for this person. your person can be extremely sappy (in the best way possible) like i see them randomly just grabbing you and spinning you around or twirling you lol they’re like…always in a good mood. they might like to sing or dance mhm i get the vibe that they have a CD collection like they really love music sooo much! they will love to cook for you as well awww they’re so considerate, pile 3. you guys are definitely giving that old school cutesy romantic 60s couple vibe for sure, i could cry!

i channeled wanda maximoff x vision for a reason i see. i feel like when you first meet your person you’re going to be going through alot in your own life and i’m not necessarily getting that it’s anything bad but it seems like you’re either working through something or towards something. this could be you confronting some childhood trauma and/or previous relationship baggage. it might also be that you're not quite where you imagined you'd be in life right now, or maybe you're feeling a bit unsure about your current path. whatever the reason, your person will likely sense that you're feeling a little lost, and they'll pick up on that shift in your energy. you might meet your person while you’re traveling or outside of wherever you live (i’m hearing out the country for some) and i see you two forming a very close friendship first. infrunami by steve lacy is coming to mind – girl, you're the one i want, you’re the one i need…i’m beggin' you, please. can you come back to me? 'cause i was blind to see that you were right in front of me. hm for some of you this person could be a mutual or you somehow know them through your friends? if not, there just seems to be a sense of familiarity between the two of you.

i’m hearing “wow what a small world!” so tbh you could meet this person through one of your friends lol now i’m hearing best friend’s brother by victoria justice PLEASE that’s so random but on brand. also i’m picking up that your person could wear glasses? they are very inquisitive and can read you like a book, pile 3.

like vision, your person can pick up on your emotions, sensing when something is off even if you don’t express it. though vision is a synthezoid, his close connection to wanda and his time with the avengers allowed him to empathize deeply with human emotions. over time, his understanding of these feelings went beyond his programming, and his love for wanda amplified his ability to sense when she’s in distress. he offers comfort to her when she's struggling with her powers or grief. i feel like this relationship will be therapeutic for the both of you! you scratch their back, they’ll scratch yours.

you are similar to wanda in the sense that you can alter/create your reality – YOU have the power, but you have to believe it first. you doubt yourself a lot and create a lot of chaos within your mind because you can’t decide whether or not you should do something or if you’re even making the right decision. i think this has a lot to do with your childhood/upbringing, you stay in the shadows instead of being in the spotlight. that’s the problem, pile 3. i think you’re afraid of taking up space in fear of what others might say or think. there’s this sense of imposter syndrome. in order to bring this relationship into fruition you’ve gotta trust and believe in yourself, my loves. you’re an absolute badass – pop out and act like it! 10:10 on the clock. stop getting so caught up in the idea of what you think should be perfect. nothing and no one is perfect and ironically that’s the beauty of life lol shit ain’t always sweet and that’s okay. the world keeps spinning. it might not seem like it now but you will be more than okay, trust me! your person can’t wait to be in your orbit eeek i’m giddy at the thought of you two connecting. you don’t even realize it but your spirit guides are working overtime to make this connection happen hehe it starts with you though, babe. buckle up cause your person is ready. are you down to ride?

OTHER CHANNELED MESSAGES —

michael, breakfast at tiffany’s, NYC, month of may, one of the girls by the weeknd ft. lily rose depp & jennie, looks like MBJ, leo, 7H, 6H/virgo venus.

[dissociativewriter]

Unnatural Affinity- Part 2

Isekai!Reader x Love and Deepspace

wc: 2.8k

cw: angst but not too heavy this time, allusions to self harm, questioning of worth i guess?, reader wonders if she’s supposed to be there and what’s going on, kinda awkward interactions tbh, lots of confusion; not proofread

Synopsis: You soon find yourself filling in the role of Em’s friend and roommate, and try to fit into your new life and new (?) job at the Hunter’s Association. At lunch break, you and Em eat lunch with Xavier only to find some… odd behavior from him.

author’s note: I really need to be updating my Once Upon Another Time PoTo x LaDS series but this has taken all my inspiration :( i feel like this is kinda weak but it has some good lines. i don’t know how to write xavier so ill try to figure that out before i write more of him

tag list: @animegamerfox @ixloom819 @magennta09 @an-ever-angry-bi @corvid007

Series Masterlist

Em certainly knew how to hold a conversation, you quickly realized.

She was the exact opposite of you. Where you were quiet and reserved, she was loud and outgoing. She could talk to anyone, and it seemed as though she held all the energy in any room she entered.

That wasn’t a bad thing, of course. You almost envied her for it, the way she could so easily navigate social situations. She was charming and witty where you were shy and sarcastic. It was far from a bad thing, it was just something you weren’t used to.

And why would you be?

This is the life of the Main Character.

“So, anyways, I was trying to get him to switch with me so I could have a turn, but he insisted that he keep playing!” Em was complaining about one of the men wrapped around her finger, and you had honestly lost track of which one she was talking about now. For having five objectively attractive men practically at her feet, she certainly didn’t appreciate them all that much. “He said he’d use his Evol and it’d be fine, but then he still missed!” Her expression was exaggerated, her pitch rising as she kept talking. A small pout formed on her lips. “All that to say, we didn’t get a plushie,” she sighed.

“I’m sorry, who was this again?” You decided to just bite the bullet. You’d learned that Em was aware she could talk fast sometimes and skip out on details, so asking for clarification wasn’t that anxiety-inducing anymore.

“My friend Xavier. He’s a hunter, you might have seen him? Silver-white hair, big, blue eyes, tall, really quiet?” Em cocked her head.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve… seen him around.” You nodded. You couldn’t exactly explain he was a Love Interest in the only game you played daily.

“Yeah, it’s hard not to notice him. I think most people in the Association have at least heard his name, even if they haven’t seen him.” Em suddenly stopped, grabbing your arm and pointing to a small shop with her other hand. “That shop looks so cute! We have to go there.”

You didn’t argue, simply following her lead like a lamb as she guided you to the store. Another thing you’d realized: Em was used to getting what she wanted. But she was never rude or entitled about it. No, that’d be too negative for a Main Character. She could be a bit bratty at times, however, a trait often showed in memories with Sylus or Caleb. Clearly, though, this wasn’t something she only did with them. You’d fallen victim to her pouts, puppy-dog eyes, and guilt-tripping in the mere three hours you’d been together.

Despite all this, your differences, your slight annoyances, your envy, you’d managed to become somewhat comfortable around Em. Maybe it was her Evol helping her resonate with everyone, but it’s like she just knew how to make people like her and be comfortable. You weren’t sure how you felt about it. She couldn’t read you and your emotions, something you were thankful for, but she was clawing at the walls you’d put up defiantly, like the kitten Sylus so often compared her to.

After a few stops at a couple more shops, you two finally headed back to your apartment. You were filled with some kind of rotten eagerness. A person’s home can so easily show their secrets: their struggles, interests, and happiness. You wanted to see how you lived in this life. You wanted to see if it really was better than what you’d had before.

You wanted to see if what you were losing when you entered this world was really worth missing.

The apartment was… nice. Like the rest of Linkon, it was sleek and innovative. You recognized a lot of it from the screenshots in the back of the main storyline or memories, but there was something unnerving about the whole place. It reminded you of Em’s eyes. Pretty at the first glance but lacking substance when you look further.

There were a few things here and there that weren’t in the original art of her apartment. A stack of books here, an extra pair of shoes there; Your mark was evident. You weren’t just shoved to the side to make room for the main character. You were allowed to self-express in your own (new?) home.

“Why do you look so shocked? I mean, I know I straightened up, but it wasn’t that messy before,” Em laughed.

“Nothing… just thinking.” You shook your head. “It’s not important.” Em cocked her head but didn’t say anything more.

You hovered in the entryway for a moment after kicking your shoes off, taking it all in. Em stayed in the living room, scrolling her phone as she laid sprawled on the couch. Then, as if your body knew what your mind did not, you entered what you could only assume was your room, dropping your tote bag in the chair in the corner and shrugging off your jacket. You performed what felt like second-nature, like your body remembered this life where your mind didn’t. It seemed like force of habit, so you could only wonder if adapting to this new world would really be all that difficult.

“I’m going to sleep!” Em yelled outside your door. “You should soon. We’ve got to get back the Association tomorrow and I just know Jenna’s going to overload everyone with work after that whole issue in Skyhaven.”

Habit was a funny thing.

It was as if some things didn’t need a second thought, just something you did because your body knew to.

But how did your body know your exact routine in this life? There was nothing inexperienced about any of it. You didn’t bump into any furniture, didn’t look for where your shirts were kept for twenty minutes, didn’t question anything.

What was going on here?

You grabbed a bag you didn’t even know existed before and a travel mug from the counter before leaving with Em. This was routine, you realized, but whose?

As you were leaving the apartment building, Em turned around, zeroing in on a specific window. You curiously followed her gaze, only to find the curtains drawn.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

Em’s gaze suddenly snapped back to your own, as if she forgot you were there next to her. “Oh! I was just going to see if Xavier was leaving too and let him walk with us.” She laughed. “Of course, knowing him, he’s probably still asleep!”

I didn’t think Xavier usually went to the Association, you thought. Didn’t he just take missions without showing up?

What else is different?

You shrugged. “We can wait for him, if you want,” you offered. You didn’t know if you really should be interacting with any of the Love Interests, but if you both worked at the Hunter’s Association, you couldn’t really avoid Xavier.

You couldn’t change things that much anyway, right?

“No, it’s fine.” Em shook her head. “Let’s just go. I have a meeting with Jenna first thing and I do not need to be late again,” she groaned.

With bright lights and wide windows, the Hunter’s Association certainly left no stone unturned. There were no shadows to hide in, no darkened corners to find refuge, not even a closet to hide the skeletons you knew the Association had.

You subconsciously adjusted the tote bag on your shoulder, feeling the weight of your laptop and the folders containing God(Astra?)-knows-what. You’d tossed your copy of Frankenstein in before you left, too. You didn’t know why. It wasn’t even your favorite book, but it was something real. The annotations were fragments of another life. A life where you hadn’t been happy, so why did you find yourself missing it so much?

Your hands itched at your thighs again, feeling the healing cuts rub against the fabric of your pants.

“Well, I’m gonna go.” Em’s voice, bright like the Association, broke you from your thoughts. “Say hi to Nero for me!” You nodded and returned her wave as she walked away.

Wait.

Nero?

What did he do…? You wish you had the guide from the game giving you descriptions on everyone and everywhere. What did they say about him? He liked Wanderers… and didn’t he have social anxiety?

Your feet took your where your mind couldn’t and you saw Nero sitting at a slightly cluttered desk with an empty one directly across from him.

His little portrait in-game did not do him justice. He was honestly cute, especially with his slightly oversized glasses. He was shy, sure, giving you a weak wave of acknowledgement, but he was by no means lacking confidence. He dodged eye contact, but his shoulders were back and his posture straight. You could tell he was confident in himself, just not in others when it came to socializing.

“Hey.” His voice was soft, almost unsure. “I left a report on your desk for you to read over… just, whenever you have time!” he quickly clarified, as if he didn’t want to put unnecessary pressure on you.

“Alright, Nero,” you smiled, your grin only growing as he glanced away.

You quickly fell into a rhythm after getting settled at your desk. Nero was in data analysis, you finally remembered, which meant you were, too. At least, in the same department. You had a different job from Nero, compiling and proofreading all of the information from the reports. It could be confusing here and there, especially trying to decode any shorthand used or even just some messy scrawl, but it was overall easy work.

Now you understand why Em had mentioned you helping her by giving data. You had access to all the data that went through the Association. Even what they hid from the Hunters.

In a world where knowledge was the only thing you had, this realization held unimaginable power.

Between what you knew about a few characters from the game and what you could learn from all these reports, it didn’t seem like you’d be scrambling for some footing.

You and Nero fell into a rhythm, too. He would complete his reports, pass them over to your desk, where you would edit and transfer into the database. Not many words were exchanged, maybe a quick “here” or “thanks” muttered occasionally. With such a loud life next to Em, it was nice to find these quiet moments of reprieve with him.

A few hours passed quickly before the clock hit 1:30. You straightened up your pile of reports before rising from your chair. “Nero? Aren’t you going to lunch?” you asked.

He shook his head. “I’ll just stay here for my break. You have a fun time, though.” He gave a weak smile.

“Alright, if you insist…”

Em met you at the entrance to the Association, a tall blond in tow. “Hey!” she exclaimed as soon as she saw you. “I wanted to introduce you to Xavier since you said you’d never met, so I thought, why don’t we all get lunch so you two can properly meet!” She grinned widely, quickly glancing between both of you.

You gave a polite nod and introduction to Xavier, not expecting much from him. He never paid much attention to anyone beyond Em, you knew, and you didn’t want to incite any unnecessary jealousy if he thought you two were too close. You were roommates, after all, and you’d seen Xavier get jealous over only a neighbor.

You didn’t think his jealousy would stop at only men, either.

To your surprise, however, he grabbed your hand, giving you a chaste kiss on the top of it and a small smile. “Nice to meet you,” he murmured.

Okay, what?

You hadn’t expected him to be rude; he would never be rude to someone important to Em. But this was a bit kinder than you’d expected. Just a bit.

You, Xavier, and Em left the Association, walking down the street after Em proposed some hotpot. She was slightly ahead of you and Xavier, extremely enthusiastic compared to your relaxed pace. You thought it odd that Xavier had stayed back with you instead of hovering next to Em, but what was odder was the hand ghosting at the small of your back.

This was a comfortable motion, maybe not practiced, but definitely not awkward. You felt his eyes on you as you kept looking forward, his chin tilted up as he looked at you through his bottom lashes. He was searching for something. You could feel it, though his face betrayed nothing.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was just as confused as you were with the amount of attention he was giving you compared to Em.

Hotpot was nice, if a little chaotic. Em and Xavier sat together in a booth, with you across from them in a chair. You were directly across from Xavier, and you noticed him watching you closely as the meats and vegetables cooked. There were even a few times when Em had to frantically tap him to get his attention and say it was done.

Conversation ended up flowing easily between the three of you, once you got settled. You and Xavier were putting in as much as Em, something extremely unusual for the both of you. Right now, Em was in the middle of telling of an interaction with a civilian during a mission, which was apparently so funny that she couldn’t breathe for a few minutes before beginning.

“He kept insisting that he be let past, like he knew what was going on!” She howled with laughter. “I said, sir, you don’t wanna be involved in that and he just held his hand up and said how can you know that, I’ll do as I please! Obviously, he took two steps, realized what was happening, and got out of there as fast as possible. Honestly, I don’t know what people are thinking sometimes.” Em wiped the stray tears from her eyes.

“Wait,” you chuckled. “So he was just like: ‘oh i can do this, i’m better than a trained hunter, step aside little girl’?” You raised your hand, the back of it facing you, just as Em had done to get your point across. Em didn’t say anything, merely laughing as she nodded. You laughed, too, keeping your hand raised although it faltered.

Xavier, who had completely dissociated for the entire story, snapped back into focus. He zeroed in on your outstretched hand, immediately drawing a conclusion you weren’t sure how he reached.

“Mind if you borrow my hand?” he asked, his brows slightly furrowed. He leaned forward a little, raising his own hand. “…Like this?” He tapped his hand against yours in a weak high-five.

Watching your hand falter, out of sheer confusion and shock for how this was playing out, a slight frown grew on his face. “It seems you had something else in mind.” He shook his head, his lips now curling up at the ends. He quickly entwined his fingers with your own, holding your hand tightly. “Can I borrow your hand, then?”

Your mouth was slightly agape. He was supposed to be acting all cute like this with Em, not with you!

“Is this what you call borrowing?” Xavier chuckled as he released your hand.

You stared at him, barely noticing Em glancing between you both. A frown was playing on her lips, and she shifted closer to Xavier. You watched him closely as he absentmindedly chewed his food. You were trying to figure out why he did that.

Why did it feel so familiar?

What was it so comfortable?

You figured it out later.

Finally, after a few more hours the Association and a quick dinner back at the apartment where Em was uncharacteristically quiet, you figured it out.

It was a Relax Time in the game. One of those little interactions you unlocked as Affinity increased. It was identical down to the dialogue. Except, those were always little couple-y moments shared between the MC and her Love Interest in Destiny Cafe, always adorable, always invoking your somber envy.

So why was Xavier doing it with you?

You didn’t think Em liked it much either. She wasn’t bitter about it, you could tell, just… confused. She isn’t officially dating any of the Love Interests as of now considering just the Main Story has happened, but it’s still odd for any of them to be doing something remotely romantic with anyone, man or woman.

You just hoped you wouldn’t run into any of the other men. Who knows what that could lead to?

You didn’t know what exactly was going on, or how you could deal with it, but you knew one thing: Something was wrong.

Maybe it’s your fault. Maybe you’re not supposed to be here. Maybe your very presence is throwing everything off-kilter.

In a game so based around Fate, unexpected events don’t seem very welcome.

And what were you, if not unexpected?

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masterlist

[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.

[nikitallymessy]

who are you, really?

in the labyrinth of this world, it's easy to lose yourself. Take this time to be still and remember who you really are.

reminder: this is a general reading made for entertainment purposes, so please take what resonates and leave what doesn't.

how to pick a pile: close your eyes, take a deep breath, and choose the picture to which your eyes are drawn to.

pile 1 | pile 2 | pile 3

PILE 1:

ten of swords - reversed, justice - reversed, and queen of cups

You are someone who has survived so much pain in life. The reverse of the ten of swords - the survivor. You have been through many lessons and completed them all. With these challenges, it is easy to forget who you are and all you think about is survival. The queen of cups tells me you are a nurturing, emotional, and loving person. It may be difficult to embody your true characteristics through these challenges, but remember that you are not your suffering.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

PILE 2:

two of pentacles, king of pentacles, and eight of swords

You are a very imaginative, intuitive, and joyful person. Reminiscent of the fool card, yet more structured. But you are going through an important choice right now, which could be about your career. It could be a choice that dictates your entire life. With the king of pentacles, I'm getting masculine energy, I see that you are a provider. You could be the parental figure in your friend group. and you enjoy this, you like taking care of yourself and you like taking care of others. But despite this, with the eight of swords, you might feel trapped. You might feel trapped in these decisions. You have to remember that your true self is a wise and capable person. You are capable of making these decisions like how you are capable of taking care of others.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

PILE 3:

three of pentacles - reversed, five of pentacles, and knight of swords - reversed

You seem unstable, and unsure of yourself. What is keeping you out of balance? You are someone who is still going under construction. While reading for you, I felt very nervous, like nail-biting anxiousness. What's going on that is making you forget who you really are? I feel that you are getting these external influences in your life that negatively impact you, and with the three of pentacles in reverse, you are letting them dictate or build your person. You have to remember that you are the maker of your own life, you are your own designer. Don't let others dictate who you are.