#unofficial character birthday
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Oh I forgot to mention this earlier today because I was out of state and my service constantly cut out whenever I tried going on social media.
Tomorrow is Skeebo's unofficial birthday! In majority of my drafts it's labeled as December 1st!
... So yeah! Happy early birthday you blue freak!/j /silly
#pmatga#pac man#pac man and the ghostly adventures#pmatga memes#shitpost#unofficial character birthday#clover's rambles#skeebo#pacman and the ghostly adventures#ceo of skeebo here#posting as I finally arrive back home
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This day has come!! My birthday!!
I must say, a lot has happened in the last year. I met a lot of people, my environment has changed a lot.. but I am sure that with the experience gained this year, I have become cooler and stronger💪 more text↓
Thank you, dear followers, for reading me this year. I am going to continue drawing and feeding you with doodles! I believe that today will be interesting!! 🙌
P.s. And I will not tell you my age directly anymore. I am not comfortable keeping information about me in the public, sorry :[
#zeke fletcher#hedone high#ok this version of zeke is not exactly from hedone high i know#but that's still him#I just want my birthday cake#(and my soft boy *COUGH*)#If you're wondering how many candles are on the cake#I don't recommend counting them.#there are candles not only for me#but for Zeke too#because his birthday is somewhere in September#but mademoiselle Darqx didn't tell me the exact date of his birthday#so I unofficially proclaim our birthday a common one#btw#I have to say thank you to this fandom and this cute character!!#and thanks to Darqx for her creativity and creating this fandom!#and thank you very much to my friends for a wonderful year#it's my birthday#happy birthday to myself#ann yells#yahoo
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![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/afaafacd9b2391d5151fd0d11b3d2dd2/e99252d911f3e0d6-0f/s540x810/5c6dbce48a39a56baca7c52c9e715273103d42c8.jpg)
@kassiekolchek22 @delurkr @ivycross @ultrabananapudding @tatjana-fantasy @blubary @dennisseyebrows @qusok @eddie-brii I have expressed before that I'd share my birthday with Anthony Clarke if supermassive didn't give him one by then and it's now the 1st of July so happy 70th old man(and 28th to me✨)
Uncoloured undercut
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/1c90ec28b4c2599e80fa105598122c57/e99252d911f3e0d6-d6/s540x810/a1e633611d3bbce97d3dcdc89fc67801fde1d016.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/5ebb1fc803bc26827de77a106c65bdd9/e99252d911f3e0d6-af/s540x810/25a48d23ef9bc5aa96589e154d66092e7f9f1ddf.jpg)
I'll admit to worrying that colour would ruin it, my whole thing was to make it light and scribbley and really just let the pen go where it goes, also halfway between drawing his ear I was like "but what if I didn't?"
If he does get an actual birthday I'll make something for him then too but for now I've got it 😁
#Little hope#the dark pictures anthology#The dark pictures little hope#anthony clarke#supermassive games#Character birthdays(unofficial)
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happy official unofficial birthday adrian ivashkov my delusional malewife fave xx
#official unofficial bc like#everyone agrees its aug 3 but i can't find a single canon source that verifies that???#adrian ivashkov#character birthdays
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![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/90d5fda6b8705df8e006b0bd092b3014/f6813c5e5dc8e7dd-68/s540x810/e153b14348bc7905442b61e18b160a32f10254f6.jpg)
no doubt ── s. jy
↳ summary ── struggling to balance a world tour, endless responsibilities, and...well, the sting of getting dumped by his girlfriend, jake finds peace & comfort confiding in you—one of his closest friends. what begins as lighthearted late-night phone calls while he's away on tour deepens into something more, quickly pulling you both into uncharted emotional territory. as your connection with jake intensifies, so does your inner turmoil—torn between the comfort of your easy relationship with him and the terrifying possibility of falling for someone you're not even sure you can have in the first place. but jake? jake has absolutely no doubt of what he wants—and spoiler alert? it's you.
↳ pairing ── jake x f!reader, [ft. childhoodbestfriend!jungwon, bestfriends!enha]
↳ genre ── idol!jake, friends to lovers!au || angstttt, fluff, crack
↳ ✎ᝰ. 23.7k [never beating the allegations of getting too attached to my works and having too much fun writing i fear...]
↳ contains ── angst! very angsty but only after a lot of fluff...the cheesy cringe type but then it goes downhill real quick...but happy ending i swear!, mentions of insecurities, maybe one or two curse words, fic starts with jake dating og character named jenn, the use of pet names, jungwon practically plays therapist, jake is absolutely whipped for reader but is terrible at communication and a certified idiot . also jungwon is reader's best friend so the beginning sets up the context for that lolz
↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── she's DONEEE [do u hear me crying in the background]...so some backstory lore abt this fic—basically two years ago i had a dream about the ~angsty scene~ of this fic and ever since then, i've had this itch of putting it into words. and when i finally decided to do it, no doubt came out and i thought it was literal fate since the lyrics match the vibe so well...don't tell me it isn't fate guys :') anyways..this is a little different than my typical writing style even though of course i had to include summm crack..but i am still nervous abt how it came out so i really really hope you guys like it :') thank u for all the support and love always <3
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・
You and Yang Jungwon were literally born to be best friends.
Like, there was no other option.
Your mom? Their high school's poster child for academic perfection—top of her class, president of every club imaginable, a certified teacher's pet.
Jungwon's mom? Their high school's unofficial social chair—life of the party, karaoke queen, probably responsible for half the faculty's headaches.
Nothing alike.
So naturally, of course, they were inseparable. By their junior year, they'd already started planning their futures together, including one very specific and totally realistic goal that all teenage girl best friends make when they're young:
"We should have our first kids around the same time and force them to be best friends!"
"Oh my gosh, yes," Jungwon's mom agreed enthusiastically. "Like, we'll make them share everything! Matching outfits, playdates, joint birthday parties!"
But what your moms didn't realize as they were giggling over the playful promise that probably didn't hold any meaning to them at the age of 17?
The universe was taking notes.
So fast forward a couple decades later, and there you were, baby best friends from birth, fulfilling the shared dream of your mothers—the true puppeteers in this scenario.
All your moms had to do was execute their promise as planned, but the rest of it? The rest of it was easy.
You and Jungwon clicked before you even knew what words were, communicating in a series of shared giggles and unintelligible baby noises. By the time you turned two, you were finishing each other's sentences in your made-up gibberish language, and by preschool, the bond was unshakable.
You two—just like your moms—were inseparable.
By high school, everyone knew you were a package deal—where you went, Jungwon followed, and vice versa. So, when he announced your sophomore year that he was leaving to compete on a televised idol survival show, you were, understandably, skeptical.
"Are you sure it's not a scam?" You had asked, rolling lazily around on his bed while he scrambled around his room, packing his bags.
"It's not a scam," Jungwon laughed, carefully folding his clothes.
"Did they ask for your social security number?"
"Y/N."
"Exactly. I'm just saying—if you end up on one of those exposé documentaries about fake talent shows, don't say I didn't warn you."
Despite your teasing, you knew how much this meant to him. Jungwon had been dreaming about being in the music spotlight since he figured out how to work a karaoke machine at the age of six.
So when he eventually did make his debut with his group, you weren't surprised at all—it was inevitable, written in the stars, just like how your friendship with him was.
What did surprise you, though, was how seamlessly you got roped into his new world.
Sure, Jungwon's life got infinitely busier overnight, but there is no universe that exists in which he'd forget about you—his non-conjoined twin, ride-or-die, and ultimate life-long nuisance (his words, not yours).
And so naturally, you became an honorary member of this new life of his. The boys' practice studio might as well be your new home—the endless days camping out on the floor of their dance studio with your head in your textbooks while they drilled their choreography for the hundredth time proved that. Or maybe how you crash on their dorm couch so often that Sunoo coined you your new nickname: their unofficial eighth member.
Which brings you to now: a marketing major by day, unofficial idol by night, and, as always, a certified magnet to chaos.
Case in point? Whatever madness was happening around you at this exact moment.
"Okay, but hear me out," Heeseung says, gesturing dramatically with his pizza slice—one of many scattered across the coffee table everyone was sitting around. "Pineapple is the perfect combination of sweet and savory—"
"It's a crime against humanity," Sunghoon cuts in.
Tomorrow? The boys leave for their five-month tour.
Tonight? Tonight is tradition: the pre-tour pizza bash.
Naturally, it's chaos, as no one has bothered with the last-minute packing they're supposed to be doing.
Not a single bag is packed.
"It's fruit on bread," you scrunch your nose, taking a bite of your own normal pepperoni pizza. "This isn't dessert, Hee."
"Thank you!" Sunghoon reaches across the table to high-five you.
From the couch behind you, Jake chuckles and nudges your back with his knee, "Big talk coming from someone who claims pickles belong on everything."
"Uh, because they do," you whip your head around to glare at him. "Pickles are versatile."
"Versatile my ass," Jungwon mumbles from his spot beside you. "I love you, but you're deranged."
"Look who's talking, Mr. 'I-put-hot-sauce-on-everything'," you shoot back, eyes narrowing at your best friend. Everyone chuckles from around the table at your dramatic, yet endearing, overreaction.
"Hot sauce is different," Jay chimes in without even looking up from his phone. "It's an enhancer."
"Pickles enhance flavor too!"
"By making everything taste like vinegar," Sunoo deadpans from your other side. "Gross."
"Whatever," you roll your eyes. "You're all uncultured."
"And you're a menace," Jake quips from behind you, his voice dripping with amusement. You don't even have to turn around to see the smirk on his face—you can hear it loud and clear.
"Careful, Sim," you say with a sly glance over your shoulder. "Keep talking, and I'll start adding pickle juice to your coffee."
The room fills with laughter, but before Jake can fire back, his phone buzzes aggressively against the couch. You watch him glance down at his screen before his playful smile instantly fades.
"I'll be right back," Jake mutters, getting up and heading towards the kitchen without another word.
You frown as you watch him disappear around the corner, the sudden shift in his mood gnawing at you, and you can't help but wonder what's gotten under his skin.
After a few more minutes of heated debates over pizza toppings—and yet another round of everyone ganging up on your weird pickle obsession—you decide it was time for a drink refill.
Excusing yourself, you step into the kitchen, only to find Jake leaning against the counter, his arms crossed and gaze fixed on the empty wall in front of him. His phone sits abandoned on the counter, screen dark.
"Jake?" You call out softly, approaching slowly.
Your voice breaks through his haze, his expression flickering as he registers you standing in the doorway, your brows furrowed in concern.
"What's going on?" You ask, moving closer to stand in front of him.
"Nothing," Jake says too quickly, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
You give him a look and he knows that you know he's lying, "Jake.."
He exhales, his expression crumbling as he runs a hand through his hair, "Just...Jenn called."
Ah. Of course. Jenn.
You almost flinch at the sound of the name, the weight it carries instantly souring your stomach. Jake's on-again, off-again girlfriend of two years was a constant source of heartbreak—not just for the poor boy, but for the entire group who helped pick up the pieces of his broken heart after every messy break-up…and even messier make-up.
"She broke up with me," Jake admits quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "For real this time. Something about me leaving for tour and how it wasn't going to work out."
Your heart hurts at the sight of him in front of you—shoulders slumped, hands nervously twisting the hem of his shirt, as if trying to distract himself from the conversation.
"Oh, Jake...," you murmur, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder as you lean against the counter next to him.
"I'm fine," he insists, waving it off, but the expression on his face clearly betrays him.
"No, you're not," you say, trying to catch his eyes. "And that's okay."
Jake lets out a shaky breath, finally looking up from the ground to look at you, before shrugging, "I don't even know why I’m surprised. We've been...really off for a while now. Like, more than usual. But still, it sucks."
“Of course, it sucks," you nod, agreeing softly. "You guys were together for a long time. You cared about her."
For a moment, the two of you sit in a heavy silence with an unspoken understanding, the only sounds coming from the muffled chatter and laughter in the other room. You stay close, letting him process without pushing further.
Still, you can't entirely suppress the annoying flare of emotions bubbling in your chest—a tangled knot of sympathy and…something else. Relief, maybe? Not that you would ever wish any sort of pain on Jake—but you hate the way Jenn always leaves him like this: drained, doubting himself, and trying to piece together what went wrong, where he went wrong.
"Come back to the living room," you say finally, nudging his side gently. "Ni-ki is freaking out over which hoodies to pack. And I swear, they're all the same black hoodie."
Jake lets out a small, tired laugh, "You don't need me for that. He's gonna end up packing all of them, just watch."
"You don't know that," you tease. "Besides, I need someone's back up to help me convince him he's not actually going through an emo phase."
His eyes carry a faint smile as he looks at you, the corners of his lips lifting just enough to remind you of the warmth he usually carries.
"Okay," he says in a whisper, pushing himself off the counter.
You start towards the doorway, forgetting about your drink refill entirely, but his voice stops you.
"Y/N?"
You turn to find him still standing there, his eyes filled with warmth and appreciation.
"Thanks," he adds, a small smile on his face. It's such a simple statement, but the way he says it—soft, sincere, and maybe just a little desperate—makes something twist in your stomach. "For just...always being here."
You smile back up at the boy, "Of course, Jake. I'll always be here for you. You know that."
For a moment, he holds your gaze, as if taking a mental note of something. Then he nods, his shoulders relaxing.
"Okay," he says, exhaling as he gestures toward the doorway. "Let's go.”
You follow behind the boy back to the living room, silently hoping he knows just how much you mean your promise to him.
Jake's body is on autopilot at this point.
Another city, another show, another string of flashing lights and deafening cheers. It's a month into tour, and the endless loop of responsibilities has left him no room to just breathe.
And he loves this life—he really does. But tonight, for reasons he can't explain, the adrenaline that usually keeps him afloat isn't enough. Pure exhaustion lingers in his bones, heavier than the applause and screams echoing in his memory, and he just can’t seem to shake it.
When his head finally hits the stiff hotel pillow, Jake exhales with a heavy sigh. The city around him is alive, the neon lights brightly dancing against his windowpane, but he feels none of it.
Instead? He just feels the weight of homesickness and the ache of being alone.
Normally, he would push through, shove these thoughts into the back of his mind, call it a night. But tonight, the ache feels different—sharper, louder—and before he knows it, his phone is in his hand before he can talk himself out of it, his thumb hovering over your name on his screen.
A familiar battle wages in his mind, one he’s been battling more recently ever since tour became a little heavier on him. Slowly, the quiet yearning has been creeping in, and he’s been missing home more and more, craving the feeling of familiarity. But it isn’t just the physical places or the comfort of his regular routine that he craves.
It’s something else, something harder to name.
And for some other reason he can’t seem to explain, he thinks it’s you.
Jake doesn’t know when it started. Maybe it was hearing the sound of your voice through the phone whenever the guys called you to check in every now and then. Or maybe it was the way you would text in their shared group chat, your messages always tinged with humor or a sense of calm that somehow made everything feel a little less overwhelming.
Whatever it was, it stuck with him. He finds himself craving that unexplainable comfort only you seem to bring. He tells himself it’s nothing special, just the natural pull of familiarity. You’re back at home, the place he misses the most, so obviously, through association, it makes sense.
It’s logical. Nothing more.
That’s what he tells himself as his thumb hovers over your name. It’s not about you specifically—it couldn’t be. It’s just the connection to home. The grounding warmth of your voice. The way you somehow make the distance feel a little less suffocating.
Obviously. Nothing more.
He presses call.
Two rings. That's all it takes before your voice cuts through all the static in his head. Groggy, soft, and achingly familiar. Like home.
"Jake? It's late, is everything okay?"
Jake glances at the clock. 10:13PM where he is. Much later for you, he imagines. Guilt stirs, but...
He doesn't want to hang up.
Hearing your voice feels like the first breath of air after surfacing from deep water. He instantly feels more comfortable despite the heaviness in his chest.
"Hey," he mumbles, his voice quiet. "I'm okay. Just...needed to hear a friendly voice, I guess."
"Wow, are the boys that bad that you need to call me?" You tease warmly, despite the sleepiness lingering in your words.
Jake chuckles, the sound low and tired, "Nothing against them, really. It's just...sometimes you need someone who reminds you of home, you know?"
The other end of the line goes quiet for a moment. He can hear you shuffle, and he braces himself for a teasing comment about him being sappy and sentimental. But instead, your voice softens.
"Well, I'm glad I could be that for you," your voice telling him you're smiling brightly on the other side of the screen. "Though if I had a private jet, I'd send it right now. Bring you back instantly."
"A private jet, huh?" Jake's eyes flutter close as he's engulfed into the usual, playful rhythm that's always there between the two of you. "You'd do that for me?"
"Only if you bring back goodies, preferably snacks," you quip back, and the warmth in his chest grows.
There's another pause, the kind that feels comfortable rather than awkward. Jake shifts in his spot and before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Make everything feel...lighter. Like, I can’t explain it, but just hearing you makes me feel like I’m not carrying all this stuff by myself.”
Your voice softens at his sudden vulnerability.
“Because you don't have to carry it all on your own, Jake. You know that, right? That’s what friends are for."
Jake hums in response, a low sound of acknowledgement as he keeps his phone pressed close, your voice instantly soothing the heavy emotions he's been carrying.
"You sound exhausted," you say after a beat, your tone cautious but filled with genuine care. "How are you holding up? With everything—the tour, the...break-up, just...you?"
Jake lets out a low groan, his fingers brushing through his hair. "You sound like my mom."
"Well, someone has to," you tease lightly, a relieved laugh slipping into your voice, as if you'd been afraid you overstepped. "Seriously, Jake. Are you doing okay?"
Jake hesitates, the question catching him off guard. He hadn't let himself think too much about Jenn or the breakup since leaving for tour a month ago. The boys knew better than to bring it up, and Jake had been grateful for that—for the distraction.
But now, with you, it feels different.
Safer, easier. Natural.
“Honestly? I don’t know,” he sighs, the sound heavy through the phone. “Some days it feels like I’m fine, like I’ve moved on, and other days...it’s like I’m stuck in this loop of ‘what ifs.’ Like, what if I did something different? Or..."
He trails off to a pause, his throat tight, before he finally admits to you, and himself, "...what if I just wasn't enough?"
“Jake,” you say gentle but firm, cutting through his spiraling thoughts. “You are enough. You've always been enough. Jenn...she just wasn’t the right person for you. That doesn’t mean you did anything wrong.”
He swallows hard, your words settling into the cracks he didn't even realize were there.
"Thanks, Y/N. I mean it. It's just...hard, you know? Haven't really talked about it since it happened. But talking to you helps—a lot."
“I’m glad." He can hear the quiet sincerity in your words. “And for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing an amazing job. With tour, with...everything. You've got this, Jake. I’m really proud of you.”
Jake lets out a breathy laugh, the warmth in your words settling something in his chest—a knot he didn't even realize was there.
“You always know what to say, don’t you?”
“It’s a gift,” you easily reply, and he can hear the grin in your voice, the easy banter making him feel lighter.
"I missed this," the words tumble out before he can stop himself. Then he quickly adds, as if to explain himself, "It's weird not having you around. The boys are great and all, but you give the best advice. Don't tell them that."
You giggle on your end, the sound making Jake's lips curve into a small smile and his heart twists.
In both a comforting and terrifying way.
"I miss it too," your voice quieter now. "But I'm here. You know that, right? Even if you're on the other side of the world, or if you call me at four in the morning like you're doing right now."
Jake lets out a chuckle followed by a sleepy groan, "Sorry about that. But...thank you, Y/N. For picking up."
"Always," you reply, and he hopes you mean it.
A beat passes. Jake knows he should hang up, that he should let you sleep. He tries to convince himself that you need the sleep more than he needs this call.
But he can't help himself.
"You'll yell at me if I don't sleep, won't you?"
"Absolutely. Go to bed, Jake. Or at least try. Zombie mode doesn't suit you."
"Fine," he sighs dramatically, but his eyes feel heavier and he knows he's falling asleep, the tension in his body from before easing away. "But only because you scare me sometimes."
You laugh. "Good. Now get some rest. And call me whenever you need to, okay?"
"Okay," he mumbles into his phone quietly, his mind already slipping into a deep sleep.
"Goodnight, Y/N."
"Goodnight, Jake."
"Don't you have a bedtime, Sim Jaeyun?" You tease, answering the call. The clock reads 1:27AM, and you should be asleep—you really should—but you smile anyways when Jake's name appears on your screen.
"Bedtime? I don't know her," his voice slightly groggy, but as usual, still warm. "Besides I knew you'd be awake. You don't sleep like a normal person either."
You roll your eyes, knowing fully well he can't see it, "Yeah, well, I don't have to dance around a stage for two hours tomorrow."
"True, but you do have to deal with my constant calls and keep me entertained. That's way harder."
"Oh yeah, obviously," you say with mock seriousness. "Being your emotional support human is a full-time job."
“Emotional support human,” Jake repeats, chuckling softly. “You’re right. I guess I really owe you, huh?”
“Oh, 100%,” you shoot back, a grin in your voice. “I want one of those tour hoodies you guys keep posting with.”
“Done. What size?”
"The oversized one."
Jake pauses. “Let me guess—so you can sleep in it?"
You hesitate, suddenly sheepish at how he knows you too well, “Hey, it's only cozy if it's oversized!"
You hear his soft laugh on the other end of the line.
“Cute. I’ll make sure to steal one for you.”
You try not to overanalyze the way your stomach flips at the word cute, and the easy way he says it, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
You shake the thought off immediately. This wasn't new, after all, Jake's always warm and easy to talk to. But lately—over the past month of phone calls—the way he says certain things, the tone he says them in, and the way they make you feel? It carried a weight you weren't sure how to hold.
In both a comforting and terrifying way.
“So, how was your day?” you suddenly bring up, trying to redirect your thoughts.
"Tiring," Jake sighs, his voice muffled as he shifts around in bed. "And Jungwon keeps beating me at Mario Kart during our break time. My pride is in shambles, Y/N."
"Let me guess," you smirk, repeating his words from earlier. "He picks Yoshi, and you keep picking Toad because you think he's underrated."
"Excuse me," Jake scoffs. "Toad is underrated. But, for your information, I choose Toad because your go-to character is Toadette."
Your heart does that stupid flip again. His words are light—I mean, you guys are talking about Mario Kart for god's sake—but it's stuff like that that keeps you questioning the true meaning behind his words.
You ignore the feeling, instead, a laugh bubbles up in response, an attempt to sound unaffected.
"You're so weird."
“But you like it,” he quips, voice dipping just slightly, like he’s testing the waters.
You're caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone, but you recover just as quickly.
"Debatable."
“Liar.”
His tone is teasing, but there's something softer behind it, “You wouldn’t still be on the phone with me if you didn’t like me at least a little.”
“Maybe I’m just bored,” you shoot back, though your cheeks are burning at his sudden forwardness, questioning if he’s serious or just messing with you.
You hear him hum in response, "Then I guess I'll have to work harder to keep you interested."
“Oh yeah? How are you planning to do that?” You try to match his teasing tone, but internally, you feel unsteady under the implication of his words.
“By being my usual charming self, duh,” he says, his voice dropping into a smooth tone. “And, you know, calling you every night so you don’t forget about me.”
Your heart squeezes. "You already do that, stupid. You think I'd forget about you?"
“Never,” Jake's reply is immediate, almost instinctive, leaving no room for doubt. “But just in case…I like hearing your voice. Makes me feel like I’m not a million miles away.”
His words linger in the space between you, heavier than the playful banter from earlier. You swallow hard, trying your best to keep your voice steady.
“You’re not a million miles away, Jake.”
“Feels like it,” he murmurs. You hear a pause in his voice, as if he's thinking hard about his next words. “I miss home. I miss...you."
Your chest tightens, and your hands grip the sheets beneath you, as if the fabric could somehow ground you. Your heart is doing that thing again—the erratic, terrifying thing that makes you want to believe in something you're not sure is even real.
And at the same time, your thoughts are scrambling to say something lighthearted before the conversation steers into that dangerous, dangerous territory you were sure you weren't ready for.
Not yet.
"Well, you better win at least one round of Mario Kart for me while you're out there," you force a laugh, trying to mask the tremor in your voice.
Jake laughs, the sound genuine, "I'll try. But if I lose, just know I'm dedicating every race to you."
"Wow, I'm so honored," you try to deadpan, but he can sense the grin in your voice.
"You should be," his voice softens again. "Thanks for picking up tonight, by the way. I know it's late."
He never fails to thank you every night, as if you haven't been picking up every day for the past month and won't be picking up tomorrow, and the next day...and the day after that.
And, somehow, the same, genuine appreciation makes it so hard for you to ignore that weird, warm, fluttering sensation growing inside you every time you talk to him.
But, regardless, you always give him the same reply:
"Always," your voice matching his softness. "Call me whenever, okay?"
"Don’t say that," Jake warns, the teasing edge creeping back into his tone. "I'll actually do it."
"Fine," you giggle. "But if you call me at four in the morning again, I'm putting my phone on Do Not Disturb."
"Deal." He pauses, then adds, "Goodnight, Y/N."
"Goodnight, Jake."
As you hang up, you stare at your phone for a moment longer than you should have, your room feeling oddly quiet and too empty without his voice.
It's just another call, Y/N. Just another call between two friends.
But deep down, a part of you tells you it isn’t that simple anymore.
And maybe—just maybe—he knows it too.
“Are you busy?” Jake’s voice sounds more tired than usual, heavy with an overwhelming amount of tension.
“Never too busy for our calls,” you easily reply without hesitation as you lay back in your bed, phone close to your ear. Your voice is light, a stark contrast to the weariness laced in his, and when he doesn’t respond with his typical chuckle, you immediately sense his mood. “Hard day?”
He exhales slowly, the weary sound answering your question. Today was a lot. Hours of rehearsal followed by a concert, the adrenaline rush of performing, followed by the chaos of having the guys’ hotel information leaked. Crowds of paparazzi and fans swarmed the entrance, the relentless flashes of cameras breaking through whatever little pieces of calm he had left within him. The noise, the pressure, the endless cycle—all spiraled into a mental mess he doesn’t seem to shake.
The second he settled into his hotel room, all Jake knew was that he needed to talk to you—the one person who could steady his racing thoughts.
"I just...I didn't think this would get to me, you know? The cameras, the people, the flashes in my face—I'm just—it's like I'm never alone."
Your heart twists at the vulnerability and rawness in his voice, as if he’s admitting something for the first time—not just to anyone else, but to himself.
"I—I don't know. Sometimes I wish I could just disappear, just for a little while. Just to breathe, you know?"
You close your eyes, your grip on the phone unconsciously tightening as if it could anchor him somehow.
"I know it's not the same," your voice steady, even as you internally ached for him, "but...you can disappear with me, Jake. Even if it's just through the call. No cameras. No noise. Just...you and me."
He lets out an exhale—shaky, but relieved.
"You're really good at this. Making me feel like it's all gonna be okay."
"Because it is going to be okay, Jake," you reply softly. "You're not alone, Jake. Not with me."
"Yeah," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, and he wishes more than anything else in this moment that he actually was with you. “I know.”
"Jake," you groan, sitting cross-legged on your bed, staring at the flustered boy through your laptop screen. "I'm begging you—just wear the black jacket. It's literally impossible to mess up black."
"But what about the beanie?" He whines as he pops back into view, his face scrunched up in genuine distress. "Do you think I can pull it off, or will I look like I'm trying too hard? Be honest, Y/N."
What started as a simple fashion-advice-question over the phone turned into a two-hour wardrobe emergency—all because Jake couldn’t figure out what to wear to the airport the next day (because, apparently, airport fits matter—his words, not yours).
"Jake, you could wear a literal trash bag to the airport and fans would still lose their minds," you tease, biting back a laugh.
He rolls his eyes at you, but the smile tugging at his lips says otherwise.
"Okay, but seriously, you’re trying too hard. Just go with the jacket, no beanie," you add on, just to end this two-hour long madness.
"Hmm," Jake plops on his bed and turns towards his phone camera, and you swear you can see the pout forming on his lips. "But I already posted a preview of the jacket last week. Isn't that, like, repetitive?"
"Jake,” you blink at him, "it's an airport. Not a fashion show."
He stares at you for a beat, then lets out a dramatic sigh, "Fine! Jacket, no beanie. But if I see even one criticizing comment calling me basic, I'm blaming you."
You laugh, shaking your head at his ridiculousness, "Deal. Now go to sleep, Sim Jaeyun."
His grin softens as he adjusts the camera to fully look at you, pout gone, eyes glistening.
"Only because you said so."
"Hey," you say softly, answering the call as you snuggle deeper into your blanket, letting it engulf you completely.
The familiar sound of Jake's quiet breathing fills the space between you, and before he even says a word, you already know.
"Rough day?" You ask gently when he doesn’t say anything after a few seconds.
"Yeah," he murmurs, his voice quieter than usual, almost drowned out by the low hum of background noise. "I just...I don't really feel like talking right now, if that's okay."
"Of course," you reply without hesitation, your tone gentle, no questions asked.
On the other end, Jake presses the phone closer to this ear in an attempt to feel closer to you, instantly feeling better from your pure understanding of how he’s feeling, and he thinks—not for the first time—that you might be his favorite person in the world.
The warm silence engulfs the both of you like a shared blanket, unspoken yet understood. You can hear the faint echoes of his surroundings: the muffled laughter of the boys somewhere nearby, the distant honk of traffic outside his hotel, and then the quiet shuffle of Jake shifting positions in his hotel bed. You catch his breath catching slightly, like he's finally allowing himself to relax—to just be.
You don't try to fill the silence. You know that he needs this—a moment of peace in the chaos. Instead, you similarly press the phone closer to your ear, as if doing so can somehow bridge the miles between you, hoping he can sense your presence reaching out for him.
Minutes pass like this, and for a moment, it’s so quiet you begin to wonder if he's falling asleep. But then, a deep exhale breaks the stillness.
"Thank you, Y/N," he says finally, his voice low but steady, carrying a weight of sincerity that makes your heart clench.
"You don't have to thank me, Jake," your voice matches his softness. "You know that."
"Still," his voice is low, so quiet, it feels like a secret meant only for you. "I appreciate you. More than you probably know."
You smile to yourself, your heart aching in the best way possible, and you desperately try your best to ignore it, no matter how much excitement it brought you.
"Always, Jake."
“Tell me something about you that I don’t already know,” you challenge him, your voice carrying that light and endearing tone over the phone that Jake’s come to crave.
“Hmm,” Jake hums thoughtfully as he lies in his bed, eyes closed, just simply treasuring the small moments, like this one, with you.
Even though it’s definitely 3AM where he is right now. And he definitely has to be up in a few hours for rehearsal.
Oh well, completely irrelevant. Talking about everything and anything with you just felt so right.
“I don’t know,” he eventually exhales, his brain too foggy to think of anything logical right now. “I feel like you know me better than I know myself at this point, Y/N.”
“You’re so corny it physically hurts, Jake,” you scoff, and Jake swears he can feel your exaggerated eye roll from thousands of miles away.
“Oh—wait, wait! I have one,” he perks up, his eyes shooting open as he turns towards the phone in excitement.
“Hit me,” you say, unconsciously smiling at how cute he sounds.
“I’m allergic to flowers.”
The line falls silent for a beat before you erupt into a storm of giggles so wild it makes Jake feel sick from how fast the butterflies in his stomach start fluttering.
“That’s your fun fact? That’s so tragic, Jake,” you gasp through your giggles. “Like, depressingly tragic.”
“Hey! It’s not that sad, it could be worse,” Jake hopes you can hear his pout over the phone (you can).
“So you’re telling me you’ve never bought a girl flowers before?” You tease, smiling to yourself as you stare at your ceiling.
“Guess not,” Jake lets out a laugh, which surprises himself. “Jenn used to always get mad at me for never getting her any, but what am I supposed to do? Show up with a bouquet and an epi-pen? I literally start tearing up whenever I’m around any kind.”
You lose it all over again, your laughter spilling through Jake’s phone like sunshine, and Jake doesn’t even realize he’s smiling so widely until his cheeks start to ache.
But what Jake does realize is something unexpected: for the first time in forever, he can talk about Jenn without a single pang of…anything. No weird tension, no lingering sadness—just a casual mention and then…nothing.
It’s freeing, this feeling of lightness, like an invisible weight he didn’t know he was even carrying has suddenly lifted. He wonders if this is what moving on really feels like, if he’s found his emotional freedom. He wonders when it changed.
He wonders maybe it’s not when—maybe it’s who.
And he wonders if it’s you.
Today was supposed to be Jake’s day off. The golden ticket to rest, recharge, and not think about anything.
Key term: supposed to be.
Instead, Jake found himself knee-deep in the trenches of emotional warfare—and losing spectacularly.
The morning started innocently enough. No alarm, no schedule, just the soft promise of freedom that was so close within his reach. But by noon, Jake came to a harsh realization.
Freedom was a lie.
Because every step, every sight, every breath, was haunted by one inescapable thought: You.
It started with a boutique. Him and the boys had wandered down a cobblestone street in a city that Jake had already forgotten the name of—city number ten or eleven of tour? He barely knew anymore. But then his gaze caught on a mannequin in the window.
Big mistake.
The outfit on display—similar to his mind—had you written all over it. Immediately, his brain spiraled.
Y/N would love that. She'd probably drag me and all the guys in and force me to hold her bag while she tried it on.
He had to physically stop himself from dragging the group inside to purchase it on the spot.
Next? A coffee shop. And there it was: a poster featuring some limited-edition iced peach latte. Jake froze, staring at it like it held the answers to life itself.
You’d love it. You would order it, (well, you'd make Jake order it, because you hate talking to cashiers), sip it, smile, and probably rant about how overpriced it was—even though Jake would pay for it—yet you’d still finish the entire thing.
And then, you'd steal half of his drink, too.
Because you always did.
And Jake always lets you.
The final straw? A cat. Just a random stray, peacefully lounging on a sunny part of sidewalk, looking like it had zero interest in the world around it. And even that didn't escape Jake's you-obsessed filter. Without even thinking, Jake whipped out his phone.
It was instinctual at this point.
Jake [1:06PM]: (attached - one image) Jake [1:06PM]: thought you'd like this one :)
Because obviously, you needed to see that cat. Immediately.
By the time Jake collapses onto his hotel bed that evening, he feels like he’d run a mental marathon—except instead of a finish line, every road led back to you.
He flops onto his bed, hoping sleep would save him from the storm raging in his brain.
Spoiler alert: it doesn't.
Instead, it leads him to the complete opposite. He stares at your name on his phone, your contact picture, your last messages to him.
You texted him two hours ago—a sweet goodnight message that ended with your usual, 'Don't hesitate to call if you need me.'
Casual. Normal.
But it probably didn't mean, 'Hey, please interrupt my sleep from the other side of the world so we can discuss your ongoing emotional crisis over me.'
Don't do it, Jake. The remaining rational brain cells within him beg him to stop. You're being dramatic. She's not the air you need to breathe.
But at the same time, deep down, Jake really thinks you are.
The worst part? You two already had talked on the phone earlier—when Jake had another fashion crisis and couldn't decide what to wear for his day off exploring with the guys. Of course, you laughed at him, teased him, but then helped him pick something out anyways. Typical.
Personally, if it was up to him, he'd spent his whole day off on the phone with you. Talking about everything. Or nothing. Whatever you wanted, Jake would've done it, no hesitation.
Don't do it, Jake, his brain warns him again. What kind of obsessed-lunatic calls the same person twice in one day?
Answer: Jake.
But as Jake lies in his hotel bed, thoughts heavily clouded with the image of you and the sound of your voice, he realizes...this wasn't just a phone call thing. No, this was deeper, worse. And somewhere between staring at the same patch of ceiling and replaying every memory of you on a mental loop, Jake tries to rationalize it.
She’s just a good friend, Jake. A best friend, even! You think about her a lot because she’s cool and funny and…and she has the laugh of a Disney princess...But it’s normal to think about your friends, right? Right??
But the more he tries to downplay it, the clearer it becomes. This was something else.
And then it hits.
Like, really hits.
Oh my god. I like her.
Jake shoots upright, widened eyes filled with horror, as if the realization itself just physically smacked him across the face.
No, no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening.
Jake buries his face in his hands, groaning. But the groan quickly turns into a muffled scream, because the more he thinks about it, the worse it gets.
Because he thinks you're going to be the death of him. He really, really likes you. Not in the vague, 'Oh, she’s cute' way, but in the write-her-name-in-a-heart-and-doodle-little-stars-around-it kind of way. The stare-at-her-texts-like-they’re-poetry kind of way. The imagine-her-laughing-at-your-dad’s-jokes-and-enjoying-your-mom’s-meals-forever kind of way.
And this feeling? It's new. It's terrifying.
It's exhilarating.
Jake realizes in this very moment that he's never experienced this heart-pounding, face-flushing, breath-taking kind of feeling towards anyone. Sure, his past relationship had been meaningful in its own way, but now Jake is realizing that the foundation of his past relationship was tangled up in obligations and unspoken expectations. A tightrope act of Jake having to be the perfect boyfriend, the perfect idol, the perfect...everything. He never realized how suffocating it was until now—until you. Because this feeling with you?
This was pure. Simple, clear, and undeniable.
Your sheer existence proved that it's possible for someone to understand him better than he understands himself. Your laugh had a way of making everything feel lighter, like the weight of the world had been momentarily suspended. Just one look from you alone somehow always manages to make him feel like he was still worthy even on his worst days.
With you, Jake felt...himself, for once. Not Jake Sim, global popstar. Not Jake Sim, the boyfriend of so-and-so. Just...Jake.
Jake's heart pounds as the realization sinks in. He's now transitioned from screaming into his hands to his poor hotel pillow.
Because as clear and strong as this feeling is, the doubt is just as overwhelming. What if you don't feel the same? What if this ruins everything?
But at the same time...what if you do feel the same way?
What if this is his chance? The butterfly effect that changes everything? What if you're it? You have to be.
And so, like an idiot possessed, Jake's finger is one millimeter away from pressing call on your name again.
Because, obviously, the best way to deal with overwhelming feelings is to confess them from a hotel room five countries away.
Obviously.
Because what if he didn't call? What if he spent the rest of his night spiraling into an endless pit of unspoken feelings and overthinking, arms flailing as he knows the only way out of the pit is with your help?
What if his brain explodes with the sheer amount of feelings he has for you and he never has the chance to tell you ever again?
He presses call.
The line rings twice before you answer.
"Jake?" Your voice is soft, laced with surprise and just the faintest trace of sleep. "It's late for you, is everything okay?"
Jake's brain short-circuits. What time even is it for him? He has no idea, and frankly, he doesn't care.
"Yeah," he blurts, far too quickly that he winces at himself. He clears his throat before trying again, "I mean, yeah. Everything's fine. I just...couldn't sleep."
"Oh," you hum softly and Jake swears the sound alone could single-handedly resolve global wars.
Yeah, he definitely likes you.
"Is something stressing you out?" The genuine concern in your voice makes his chest tighten.
"No—well, nothing like that," Jake rushes to assure you, sitting up straighter in bed now, as if you could see him. His voice lowers, almost shy, "I just...I was thinking about you."
Silence. Jake's heart pounds so loudly, he's sure you can hear it through the phone.
"About me?" You finally tease, light and playful, but there's something softer underneath. "What did I do to deserve such an honor?"
Jake lets out a nervous, breathy laugh, running a hand through his hair, “You exist. That’s what.”
Another pause. He hears you exhale softly, and the sound alone sends his heart into overdrive.
"That was smooth," your voice is quiet, soft, as if teetering on the line of teasing and nervousness at the same time. "Ten out of ten, Jake."
"I'm serious," Jake tries his best to keep his voice from cracking, the weight of his feelings pressing down on him. "I was lying here, thinking about everything, and I realized something."
"And what's that?"
Jake's throat goes dry. His heart is screaming at him to say it, but his brain begs him to reconsider.
But Jake's sure he's lost all his rational brain cells for sure at this point, so he swallows hard, and braces himself for impact.
"I like you, Y/N."
The words spill out, raw and unpolished, but so utterly true.
“I mean, I really like you," Jake continues, his voice barely above a whisper now. "More than a friend, more than anything.”
The line goes silent, and for a split second, a lifetime of pure awkwardness and torture of not having you in his life anymore flashes in his vision, and he rushes to fill the void.
"I know this is probably the worst timing ever, and probably really scary...and it's okay if you don't feel the same way," his voice definitely cracks this time, laying everything bare, but he doesn't care anymore. "But I had to tell you. I can't pretend around you, not when being around you feels like the only time I'm really me."
Then, you let out a soft exhale—a disbelieving, breathless sound that makes Jake's heart skip a beat.
"Jake..."
"You're...you're everything, Y/N. You make life better just by being in it. And I haven't even seen you in four months, but you're all I think about," Jake lets out a small laugh, swallowing the remainder of all his pride and dignity. "I promise, when I'm back...I'll prove it to you. I'll show you how much you mean to me. Anything it takes. "
For once in his life, Jake feels completely vulnerable—and yet, strangely, it feels right.
Because he means it, every word.
He's never meant anything more.
The line had gone quiet after Jake’s confession, his words echoing in your ears.
“I like you, Y/N.”
No, not like. Really, really like.
You spent the last few days replaying his words over and over, dissecting every syllable, every tiny inflection in this voice. At first, it didn't even seem real.
A part of you still thinks it isn't—that this is all a cruel dream and you're going to wake up any second now back in the real world. The one where Jake Sim, the boy who turns heads and steals hearts without even trying, didn't just confess his deepest, most vulnerable feelings for you in a single phone call.
But no. He said it, alright. Clear as day.
First, all you felt was pure happiness. Maybe it was hearing his voice everyday, or maybe it was seeing how his face lit up through the screen when you picked up his video calls—but somewhere along the way, you knew it was something deeper.
Something that made your heart skip when his name lit up your phone, something that left you craving his voice to make your day feel complete. And now? Now the boy who’d effortlessly become your favorite part of every day was telling you you’d done the same for him.
But then, came the fear.
Because what if this was just a rebound? What if you were just a soft landing for him, a way to patch up the holes left behind by his past? Here you were, standing at the edge of something terrifyingly real, wondering if you were just a step in his recovery process—a way to fill the cracks, but not the kind of permanence you were beginning to crave.
You weren’t naive enough to see Jake’s past relationship didn’t still linger in the corners of his mind. You’d seen him struggle with it before, how hard he’d tried to convince himself he was fine. What if you were just the next step in his healing, rather than something real—a Band-Aid for a wound that wasn’t even yours to heal?
And worse—what if you let it happen? What if you let yourself fall, only to hit the ground at an alarming speed, and...splat. Not just a regular, embarrassing tumble, no. But the kind that leaves you flattened on the pavement like a cartoon character who ignored every warning sign.
Because that’s exactly what it would feel like, wouldn’t it? Giving it, letting yourself hope—only to crash and burn spectacularly.
Deep down, you knew you weren’t just risking a little heartache. Because Jake? Jake had quietly claimed a permanent spot in your heart at this point.
You were risking everything.
And the worst part?
You were already halfway there.
That was the reason why you told him you needed time. The reason why all you could manage to respond was a meek, 'I just...I need to think about this.' And to his credit, Jake hadn't pushed. Of course, not.
But now, three days later, you were no closer to an answer. If anything, the time apart had made everything worse.
Because as the days stretched on, with every passing hour, every text you didn’t send and every call you didn’t make, one thing became gut-wrenchingly, undeniably clear:
You were already his.
You miss Jake’s voice, his laugh, the way he rambles about the most random things late at night. You miss how, somehow, he made you fall asleep with a smile on your face from the other side of the world. You miss him, that even in his absence, he was still your first thought in your mind when you woke up and the last before you drifted to sleep.
And no amount of overthinking or second-guessing could change the truth that finally settled in your chest like a secret you weren’t ready to admit to yourself:
You were his. Completely.
The only question now was whether you’d let yourself believe he was yours too.
"Y/N?"
"Jungwon," you groan helplessly into your phone. "Help me."
A pause. Then, "Are you sure you meant to call me? It's Jungwon, not Jake," he teases lightly. "I can go get Jake if you meant—"
"Jungwon!" You cut him off, panicked. "I'm being serious. It's about Jake, dummy."
"Oh," his tone shifts instantly as he senses the seriousness in your voice. "Did something happen? Because I swear, for the past three days, Jake's been moping around like a kicked puppy, and I was gonna ask you about it because I know you guys have been talking a lot more, but I didn't want to push, and—"
"That's exactly it, Jungwon!" You wail into your pillow, your voice muffled. Great, now you feel even worse, knowing Jake is moping around, waiting for you.
"What's exactly it?" Your best friend presses, voice curious. "I need specifics, Y/N."
You hesitate, the words clinging to the back of your throat like they're too heavy to admit. Finally, you take a deep breath and force them out.
"Jake told me he likes me, Jungwon. Like really, really likes me. He gave this whole monologue about how I'm all he can think about, and it was so cute, and it made me want to explode from joy and fear all at once, and I don't know what to do!"
A beat of silence.
Jungwon sucks in a dramatic breath and then, "Wait, wait, wait. Back up. First of all, this is not news to me."
You blink, as if he can see your look of shock over the phone, "What?"
"This was obvious, Y/N. The guy's been smitten with you for months. You guys literally have been talking every day since we left."
Your jaw drops, "So what? You and I talk every day! How is this any different?"
Jungwon snorts, "Y/N, we text every day. About minuscule things. Like me reminding you not to forget your keys and you ghosting my last text. But you and Jake? You guys talk for hours—into the illegal hours of the night, mind you. Trust me, I know. Hotel walls are thin."
You feel your cheeks flushing, "That doesn't mean anything."
"Doesn't it?" Jungwon's voice is laced with amusement. "When's the last time you called me just to hear my voice?"
"Jungwon."
"Exactly."
You groan again, "But Jungwon, what if…what if he's not over Jenn? What if I'm just a rebound?"
Jungwon goes quiet for a moment, his tone softening when he finally speaks, “Jake’s not like that, Y/N. You know that. He wouldn’t tell you he likes you unless he meant it.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Look," he interrupts. "Jake’s a lot of things—annoyingly loud, for one—but he’s not the kind of guy who’d use someone, especially you, as a rebound. If he said he likes you, he likes you.”
You bite your lip, his words settling over you like a warm blanket—because you know they're true.
“And for what it’s worth,” Jungwon continues, “I think you like him too.”
“I..,” you falter, your heart hammering in your chest. “I do.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
You sigh, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the nerves coiled in your stomach, “I don’t know. I guess I’m scared.”
“That’s okay,” Jungwon says gently. “But don’t let fear stop you from something that could make you happy. You deserve that, Y/N. And so does Jake.”
You close your eyes, letting Jungwon's words sink in. Deep down, you know he's right, he always is.
"Thanks, Jungwon," you say, your voice softer now, tinged with gratitude.
"Anytime," he replies, and then, with a teasing lilt, "But seriously—you should probably tell him soon. I can't stand watching him mope around like a sad, abandoned puppy. It's seriously tragic, like, to the point where I’m gonna have to start letting him win at Mario Kart."
A small giggle escapes you, light and genuine for the first time in three days, "I know, I know. Eventually."
"Y/N," his voice turns playfully stern, like a parent lecturing their toddler. "Eventually isn't a time. Just call him. You've been thinking about him nonstop, haven't you?"
Unfortunately, Jungwon knows you too well. Your silent response betrays you, and Jungwon lets out a triumphant hum.
"Thought so. Well, you should go. You have a call to make."
You sigh, a mix of nerves and a new determination bubbling, "Okay, okay. But if this goes horribly wrong, I'm blaming you."
"It won't. But deal," his tone is reassuring, confident, like he already knows how this story ends. "You got this, Y/N."
The call ends, and the quiet still of your room taunts you. For a moment, you sit there, staring at your phone, the little icon of Jake's contact picture—a selfie the two of you took together many years ago—staring back at you like a challenge.
Your fingers hover. Your heart races, your palms feel clammy, and your stomach twists.
But then you remember Jungwon's words.
You deserve this.
And so does Jake.
You take a deep breath, then you press down on his name.
The phone doesn't even reach the second ring before he picks up.
"Y/N," Jake’s voice is rushed, a little breathless.
"Hey," you say softly, suddenly unsure where to start. "Um, were you busy?"
"No, no," he quickly responds. "Not at all. You could call me at 3AM, and I still would’ve picked up."
"That's unhealthy, you know," your lips twitch as you lay back in your bed, taking a deep inhale. You missed this—you missed him.
"For you? Worth it," you can hear the smile in his voice, but along with the slight tension just beneath it—the faintest tremor that tells you he's been waiting for this call, maybe agonizing over it just as much as you have.
You swallow hard, gripping the phone tight, "Jake, about...our last call..."
"Take your time," he says gently, though you don't miss the way his voice wavers ever so slightly. "I mean it, Y/N. There's no pressure."
You exhale shakily, closing your eyes, “I’ve been thinking a lot, too. About you. About…us.”
Jake stays silent, but you could hear the faint sound of him shifting, like he was bracing himself.
You squeeze your eyes hard, as you let the words finally come out, "I like you too, Jake. A lot. So much, honestly. It's just..."
"It's just...?" Jake's voice repeats softly, as if that's all he can manage to let out in the midst of his nervousness.
You hold your breath, scared of what you're about to admit—to Jake and to yourself.
"It's just...I'm scared," your voice comes out barely above a whisper, "I'm scared that this is too good to be true. That you're saying all of this because...I don't know—you're trying to move on...from the past, or because you're lonely on tour, or—"
"Y/N,” Jake's voice cuts through firm, but gentle.
"You're not…a rebound, or a distraction, or anything like that," he starts quietly, each word deliberate. "And this isn't about...Jenn, or me being lonely, or whatever else you think. This is about you."
Your breath hitches as you take in his words and open your eyes, hoping that staring at the ceiling above you could somehow ground you.
“You’re the one who makes me laugh when I’ve had the worst day,” Jake continues. “You’re the one I want to talk to, even when I’m running on zero sleep. You’re the one I think about when I’m on stage and wish I could just look into the crowd and see you there. It’s you, Y/N."
His words are overwhelming, too much, and you're unsure how to even process them. Your throat tightens, and you can feel the subconscious tears prickling at the corners of your eyes without even realizing they were forming.
"Are you sure, Jake?"
"More than anything else, Y/N," he says immediately, like the words have been waiting on the tip of his tongue. "And I want to do this right, Y/N. No rushing, no expectations. Just...tell me what you need from me, and I'll do it. Whatever it takes, I'll do it."
The sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache. You can picture him on the other side of the line, sitting in some unfamiliar hotel room, his brows probably furrowed in that adorable way they always do whenever he tries to find the right words.
You bite your lip, a small laugh escaping despite the tears sliding down your cheeks, “You’re so cheesy, you know that?”
Jake lets out a small laugh, immediately easing from the tension that hung in the air.
"Only for you," he mumbles, his voice soft but steady.
You sigh, the sound reaching Jake on the other side. There's a pause, a moment of mutual understanding in silence, just listening to the quiet, peaceful hum of each other's breathing.
“Jake?” You say finally, your voice trembling.
“Yeah?”
“I think…” You take a deep breath, and you think your heart is about to break out of your chest. “I think I want to try too.”
The silence on the other end was electric, and for a moment, you think maybe the call dropped. Then, you hear the unmistakable sound of Jake’s laugh—soft, relieved, and filled with so much warmth that it instantly makes your own heart feel lighter.
“You're driving me crazy, Y/N,” he says, his voice almost breathless, but tinged with humor.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he says, a smile clear in his tone.
“I hope I am,” you quip, and it makes him chuckle, the sound warm and full of relief. “Guess I’m stuck with your cheesy lines now huh?”
“Stuck with me?” Jake repeats, pretending to sound offended. “No way. I’m stuck with you, Y/N. And trust me, I’m not going anywhere.”
His words are so simple, yet so full of promise, and it leaves you feeling a little breathless.
“Good,” you whisper, your cheeks warm. “Because I don’t want you to.”
“Hi Jake,” your voice bright as you immediately pick up his call and see his face appear on the screen, his expression softening when he sees you.
“Hey pretty,” he replies, without missing a beat, his voice laced with a soft fondness that never fails to make your stomach flip.
You roll your eyes, failing miserably to hide the blush rising to your cheeks, “Oh, so now I’m pretty, huh?”
Jake smirks at your words, leaning closer to his phone, “Nah, you’ve always been pretty. Just didn’t have the guts to say it to your face before.”
You groan, dramatically planting your face into your pillow as an attempt to bury the smile on your face, your voice muffled, “You’re gonna be the death of me, Jake.”
“Stop that, don’t hide. Let me see your face,” his tone dips somewhere between playful and pleading, and you give in, lifting your head just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your red cheeks.
“Cute,” he says with a knowing grin, leaning back against the headboard of his bed.
“Whatever,” you murmur, but the smile on your face remains. “How was your day today?”
“Mmm, it was good,” Jake says, running a hand through his messy hair. “Busy, but good. I forget how loud the fans get each time. But it’s nice. Makes it feel worth it, you know?”
“I’m glad,” your smile grows as you watch him speak, feeling nothing but proud of him. “You deserve all of it, Jake.”
“Stop,” now he’s groaning, throwing a hand over his face to cover his shy expression. “You’re going to make me blush.”
“Mm, looks like you already are, Jakey,” you shake your head, laughing softly.
“Maybe a little,” he admits as he peeks at you through his fingers, his grin boyish and infectious, and you can’t help but laugh again.
The call falls quiet for a moment, but it’s not awkward—just comfortable, like a shared breath. Jake shifts, turning on his stomach and propping his phone up against some pillows to make sure you can still see him.
“I miss you,” he says suddenly, and there’s something raw in his tone, something unguarded that catches you off guard.
Your heart stutters.
“Jake, I literally called you this morning,” you tease, your tone light and sweet. But still, you can’t resist, “I miss you too.”
“You don’t sound convincing enough,” his eyes narrow at you, the pout forming on his lips quickly turning into a small smirk. “Say it like you mean it.”
“Fine,” you huff, rolling your eyes. “I miss you so, so much Sim Jaeyun, that it’s physically painful and I might conbust on the spot if I don’t see you soon. Happy?”
“Very,” he grins into the camera, making your heart beat faster. Ugh. "But please don't combust for me. Who else am I supposed to call every day?"
"Oh, please, you'd survive," you shoot back, smirking. "I'm sure anyone else would be more than happy to fill the spot."
Jake clicks his tongue, shaking his head dramatically. "Nope, no one could keep with you, Y/N. You're a handful."
"Excuse me?" You scoff, mock offense all over your face. "You're calling me a handful? Jake, who's the one that texts me random song lyrics at 3AM and expects me to interpret their deep meaning like it's poetry?"
"Okay, first of all, they are deep," he argues, his grin widening into something boyish and utterly unfair. "And second of all, I know you secretly love it."
You let out a laugh as you roll onto your side, propping your phone against the pillow next to you.
"Maybe I do," you admit with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant despite the smile on your face. "Or maybe I don't. That's up to you to find out."
Jake shakes his head, laughing softly, his eyes twinkling as they linger on your face.
"You really are a handful, Y/N," his voice teases while his eyes remain on you through the screen, as if studying you, and it makes your stomach flip.
You glance away, suddenly feeling shy again under his unwavering gaze, "Stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?" His voice is innocent, his eyebrows lifting in feign obliviousness.
"I don't know—like you're trying to memorize my face or something," you mutter, your cheeks burning.
"Maybe I am," his voice dips, low and soft. "Honestly wouldn't complain if that's the last thing I ever got to remember."
His words hit you square in the chest, and despite how ridiculously corny they are, they manage to take your breath away. You don't know if you'll ever get used to this newly discovered side of Jake—the one that speaks so candidly, so sweetly—like you're the only person in his universe.
But honestly? You love it. You love how he makes you feel, how his words wrap around you perfectly like they were tailor made just for you. But as much as you love it, you fear it too.
Because the more you fall into this feeling, the more you wonder if there's anything solid beneath it. Despite all the soft words shared and sweet nothings exchanged, at the end of the day, deep down inside you can't help but ask yourself if his words, if he, is even yours to begin with.
"Jake..."
"Hmm?" His voice is gentle now, the teasing edge in his voice fading.
"You really mean it, don't you?" You ask, your voice quieter now, the question laced with your vulnerability. "You're serious about...this? About us?"
"Of course I am," he answers without hesitation. His soft eyes stay trained on you as he sits up in his spot in bed, as if to show just how serious he is. He lets out an exhale, as if mentally encouraging himself to continue, "I know we're not...whatever this is, officially yet. But I do know that I like what we have."
He brings his phone closer, a small smile on his face, his expression earnest, "And that I like you. A lot."
You swallow hard, his words settling in your chest in the best way possible. Because despite everything—the doubts, the undefined boundaries—you can't deny the truth of how you feel.
"Me too," you admit, your voice steady and honest. "I like what we have too. And I like you."
You pause, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you feel the remainders of your walls crumbling down, "You make me happy, Jake. Like annoyingly happy."
"Good. Because you make me happy too," His smile spreads wide, the kind that is contagious and could light up an entire room. "Annoyingly happy, if we're being specific."
You roll your eyes again, though you're smiling just as much, "We really are insufferable, aren't we?"
"Oh, completely," Jake nods, his tone playful. He's more relaxed, back to leaning against his headboard as he looks at you with a softened gaze. "We'll figure it out, Y/N. I promise. Whatever this is, or whatever it becomes, I'm not going anywhere. And honestly? I just can't wait to see you. Finally."
"Me too," you perk up, your eyes sparkling with excitement as you bring your phone closer, "It feels like it's been forever. This tour feels so much longer than the other ones for some reason."
"It does," Jake hums in agreement, his eyes thoughtful. "But you know what? I think It's because, this time...I actually have something waiting for me. Something—or someone—I want to come home to. And that makes every day feel so much longer."
You think, at this point, you should check yourself into the emergency department for the sheer amount of times you thought your heart was going to pound out of your body from Jake's words alone.
“You're ridiculous," you laugh, the sound bubbling out so naturally you couldn't hold it back even if you tried. "It's getting kind of out of hand how cheesy you are, Jake."
"And yet," he fires back with a smirk, "you love it. Admit it. I've cracked the code."
"Maybe I do," you tease, repeating your words from earlier as the corners of your mouth tug up into a smile you can't suppress. "But don't let it get to your head."
"Too late," he grins. "It's already there."
Jake [2:15AM] : can I call you? Y/N [2:16AM]: jake isnt it like 2AM for you? Jake [2:16AM]: well…yea but I was thinking about you so…
Your feet are kicking before you even realize, and before you can type up a response, your phone lights up with Jake's name and contact picture.
“Hi,” you answer softly, trying not to let the giddy smile growing on your face take over.
“Hey pretty,” he greets, voice warm and easy as he brings a hand through his messy hair. The lights in his room are off, and the dim glow of his phone screen casts a soft light over his features, making him look unfairly good for someone who should be fast asleep.
“You have two seconds to give me a good reason why you’re here talking to me instead of getting a good night’s rest before your concert tomorrow,” your eyes narrow in mock disapproval as you give him a knowing look.
Jake laughs lightly, “Hey! Okay, hear me out. I couldn’t sleep, so I did something.”
You raise an eyebrow, “You did something? That sounds ominous, I’m scared.”
“Yeah. For you,” he states plainly, leaving you even more confused for a second more before he continues. “I made you a playlist.”
Your brain stalls at how simple he says it—so casual, as if not packed with so much meaning.
“A playlist? You—wait, why?”
Jake shrugs, “I don’t know—I guess I just wanted you to hear what I hear when I think about you. Which, by the way, is a lot. So..”
You blink at the screen, your mouth slightly agape at the boy who's watching you with that lopsided grin that makes it practically impossible to function. You scramble to collect yourself, but the more you try, the worse it gets, and by now, you think he definitely took some secret class on how-to-make-Y/N-completely-flustered.
And aced it.
And of course, he notices—because Jake always notices.
“You okay there?” His voice breaks you out of your overwhelming thoughts, his teasing tone laced with curiosity.
“Define okay,” you mutter, rubbing a hand over your face in an attempt to cool down the warmth spreading like wildfire across your cheeks. “Because if it means not feeling like a complete fool over a guy who’s halfway across the world, then no, I’m absolutely not okay.”
Jake lets out a low laugh, the sound affectionate as he leans closer to the camera, the light reflecting off his shining eyes, “If it helps, you’re not the only one losing your mind here.”
“Oh yeah?” you arch an eyebrow, “What’s your excuse, Sim?”
“My excuse?” He tilts his head with a small, exaggerated frown, pretending to think. “Hmm…let’s see…I’m hopelessly into this girl who somehow makes being teased fun, who makes me smile just by hearing my name come out her mouth, and who—“
“Okay! Stop, stop, enough,” your voice strangled as you try to talk through the fit of giggles you couldn’t hold down. “You’re gonna kill me, Jake. Like, actually. I’m not strong enough for this.”
Jake laughs at your flustered reaction, holding up a hand of surrender, “Fine, fine. But seriously, look.”
You hear the sound of faint typing in the background before your phone buzzes with a text containing a link.
“It’s called Songs That Remind Me of Y/N. Creative, right?”
You open the link, and your thoughts are dazed at the sight of the endless playlist of songs. Some new to you, some you recognize—all of them feeling like little pieces of Jake's heart he's handing to you.
"I think it's perfect," you murmur softly, scrolling through the titles, the warmth and appreciation for him now feeling almost too overwhelming.
"Yeah?" Jake's eyes shine with a mixture of pride and hope as he watches your reaction.
"Yeah," you repeat, switching your phone screen back to his face and giving him a genuine smile. "I love it. Thank you, Jake."
Jake hums in response, the look on his eyes gentle as a beat of comfortable silence falls between you two.
"Well, I should probably sleep for real now, but...listen to it when you miss me, okay? Because chances are, I'm probably doing the same."
You pause, letting the weight of his words settle over you—vulnerable, yet undoubtedly honest. "Deal. I'll listen to it right now, then."
"Good," his smile grows, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Because I am too. I miss you, too."
You both linger for a moment, neither wanting to end the call just yet, simply enjoying each other's pure, raw presence.
"Sweet dreams, Jake," you finally say, your voice gentle as you slowly let sleep take over.
"Only if they’re about you," he quips, grinning.
You roll your eyes, your chest feeling lighter, "Go to bed, Sim."
"Yes, ma'am," he winks, and with one last fond look, he ends the call, leaving you smiling at your screen like the absolute fool he's turned you into.
"I can't believe you're finally coming back tomorrow," you murmur into the phone, your voice soft but buzzing with excitement as you take in the sight of Jake sprawled out on his bed. The dim glow of his phone highlights just enough of his face to remind you how impossibly cute he is—even with the pillow creases on his cheek.
"I know," Jake sighs dramatically, flopping onto his side. His head sinks into the pillow, and you hear a soft fwump as he shifts to find a comfortable spot. "I just wish I wasn't landing so late. If I could, I'd come see you the second I land. Like, bags in hand, running to your door."
"You'd probably trip and knock yourself out with your carry-on, Jake," you snort but then smile, the imagine of Jake rushing to get to you playing in your head.
"First of all, I'm very athletic," Jake raises an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "Second, that's exactly what would happen, but at least I'd be unconscious on your doorstep, which is still closer to you than I've been in months."
Your heart does a little flip at the sound of the sincerity in his voice as you try to keep your tone casual, "It's okay, Jake. I'm not going anywhere. We'll see each other the next day? If you're free, maybe."
Jake's face softens in that stupidly adorable way he always does when he knows you're just trying to play it cool. "Free or not, I'll find a way. Nothing's stopping me from seeing you, Y/N. Not jet lag, not my schedule, not even my manager if he tries to barricade me in the building."
A giggle escapes you, partly at his sheer determination and partly to cover up the butterflies constantly causing the havoc in your stomach when it comes to him. And Jake, of course, looks all smug, like he knows exactly what he's doing to you. Typical Jake—sweet, determined, and impossibly endearing.
But as much as his words make your cheeks warm, there's another reason why you're holding back your smile.
Because, despite what Jake thinks, you're going to see him much sooner than he expects. All thanks to a message you got earlier from the group's manager:
Y/N! Hope you’re doing well! We all miss you and can’t wait to see you soon! As you know, the boys are returning tomorrow late at night, but the staff and I want to plan a little surprise party at their apartment, they have no idea. The team’s already prepping everything. We’d love for you to come—it wouldn’t be the same without you. 10 PM! See you!
You're practically vibrating with excitement, each passing minute on the call with Jake making it harder and harder to not just blurt it out and tell him you'll be seeing him in less than 24 hours. And, somehow, hearing his sleepy voice on the other side of the call, completely oblivious, just makes it even harder to contain yourself.
Jake's brows furrow as he watches you try (and fail) to suppress your grin, "What's up with you? You're smiling so much, and I'm pretty sure I didn't say anything that funny."
"Me?" You blink innocently, even though your heart skips a beat. But you shrug casually, masking your smile with a feigned yawn. "Nothing's up, you've just been acting too cute tonight. That's all."
"You're lucky you're cute," Jake narrows his eyes at you, but even you can see through the dim lighting the red creeping across his face, "And that I'm tired. Or else I'd call you out for how you're gaslighting me right now."
"Gaslighting?!" You sputter out, breaking out into laughter. "How am I gaslighting you for calling you cute?"
"Because I know you're hiding something—" Jake replies, his pout audible in the way his voice drags. He yawns mid-sentence, the soft sound and the image of his eyes fluttering closed making your heart melt. "—and you're using my sleep-deprived state against me. It's not fair."
"I'm not hiding anything!" You protest, your face one second away from cracking into a guilty smile. "Go to sleep—you're barely holding it together over there."
"Like I'd ever fall asleep on you," he mutters, his voice heavy with drowsiness. "You're way too important for that."
His words hit you like a train, and you have to physically restrain yourself from squealing, burying your face in your pillow before you let out a strangled, "Okay, enough sap for one night, Romeo. Go to bed."
"Mmhm, fine, fine," Jake hums before he yawns again. "Goodnight, pretty. Dream sweet dreams, okay?"
You let out a breath, losing the last remaining bits of your composure at this point—but in the best way possible, of course.
"Goodnight, Jakey. I'll see you soon."
The day flies by in a whirlwind of anticipation and sheer chaos, the emotional hurricane brewing up inside you rooting from one source and one source only.
Because ever since you woke up this morning, every step, every sight, every breath was haunted by one inescapable thought:
Jake.
The morning was a blur of pacing around your room like a Sims character who was glitching after being told to "Go Here", overthinking every possible scenario for how tonight—when you finally see Jake in person—could go down.
Because, really—how exactly do you approach the boy you've been friends with for years, who you've fallen for, in a room filled with people, including yours and his closest friends, all while pretending your heart is trying its hardest to not control, alt, delete itself?
Not exactly something you can Google.
Like, do you hug him? Does he hug you? What if he doesn't hug you? (Unacceptable, you decide, before pacing faster.)
By the time afternoon rolls around, you're about 78% sure you've developed three-and-a-half migraines from the sheer pressure of it all. Not to mention, the borderline illegal amount of caffeine coursing through your veins isn't helping—why did you think drinking four cups of coffee was a good idea? (You didn't. Your brain has officially gone rogue.)
And now, here you are. The buzzing apartment of the boys is alive with the sounds of laughter, the crinkle of party streamers being hung up, and two staff members arguing about where to put the over-dramatically large "WELCOME HOME" banner. You, along with everyone else, await for the signal, passing time by keeping up small conversation with the friends and staff you've gotten to know over the years—all the while you desperately try to keep your nerves from causing a mental crash out right here and now.
Eventually, one of the staff gets the alert that the group has landed and is minutes away, the energy immediately shifting, both in the apartment and mentally. You settle in place in the back of the crowd, near the door but not too near the door—because 1) you're 99.99% sure you're not emotionally stable enough to be front and center, and 2) the staff and camera crew are already hogging the entrance as if this was the world's greatest comeback (and spoiler alert—to you, it really is.)
The lights dim, the chatter fades, and the room hums with anticipation. And meanwhile? Your heart won't. Stop. Pounding.
Any second now.
Your nerves bubble up even more than you thought is humanly healthy, and you're not sure if you're about to a) pass out, b) puke, c) or both.
Simultaneously.
The sound of multiple footsteps echoes faintly in the hallway, followed with muffled voices—one of them the unmistakable sound of Jake's laughter. Your breath catches.
And then the door swings open.
"SURPRISE!"
The boys freeze in the doorway, their suitcases still in hand, the looks of genuine, yet pleasant, confusion plastered on all their faces. Sunghoon's eyes dart to the snacks table, Jay looks like he's deciding whether to laugh or roll his eyes, Sunoo is on the verge of tears, and Jake—Jake looks beautifully, stupidly confused.
Your eyes immediately find Jake's face, like some natural gravitational pull you can't fight, and suddenly it hits you: he's here. In front of you. No blurry video calls, no glitchy Wi-Fi interruptions—just Jake.
It feels surreal, like you're living in a sugar-induced dream that you aren't sure of is real yet or not. Last time you saw him in person, he was merely just Jake, one of your best friends, your go-to guy for bad jokes and late-night rants about life. But now? Now he's Jake—the boy who's somehow become the main character of your life (and brain capacity) over the past five months.
Every memory of your late-night calls, every teasing smile, every time his sweet, groggy voice promised he'd prove himself to you—it all comes rushing back. Like those cheesy montage scenes in a rom-com, except instead of a whimsical romantic song playing in the background, it's the sound of your brain, and heart, screaming WHAT NOW Y/N?!
But then, finally, his eyes land on you.
The moment your eyes meet, you think your lungs give up on life. Breathing? Never heard of it. It's like someone hit the pause button on the entire universe, and you're convinced that the only thing to ever exist is Jake looking at you with that soft, unreadable expression.
But you manage half a second of calm—half a second—before that softness on his face disappears. Just as quickly as it appeared, it's replaced by...something else. Something you can't quite put your finger on. Something you've never thought could exist on his face. A flicker of...conflict? Hesitation? Like he's staring straight at you…but also from miles away at the same time.
His jaw tightens slightly—so slightly only you would notice with how intently you're looking at him—and for a split second, his hands fidgets at his side before he quickly clasps it over the handle of his suitcase. And right as you process it, right as you're about to convince yourself it's just the million grams of caffeine rushing through your blood that's making you hallucinate and see things—
He looks away.
He looks away.
He looks away. As if you're not even standing there, as if he didn't just short-circuit your entire brain. His attention shifts to the nearest staff member, greeting them with a quick nod, and suddenly he's smiling and laughing at something they're saying like nothing just happened.
And just like that, the universe hits the play button again, and you're left standing there—staring, blinking, wondering if the last thirty seconds of your life was, indeed, a caffeine-induced hallucination after all. Surely. Right?
Because Jake definitely didn't avoid you on purpose. Nope. Because that would be insane. Insane, you think to yourself, as the invisible angel on your shoulder continues to whisper into your ear the same sweet words Jake's been telling you the past five months about how much he cares for you, how much he likes you—remember all those times he said it?
Right. Right. Of course, he does. But still, you stand there frozen, trying to ground yourself, even though your hands start fidgeting at your sides anyway. Great. Fantastic. Cool, cool, cool. This is fine.
You mentally curse yourself for not being closer to the door after all, and then, you mentally curse every single person in this room for not magically gaining telepathic powers and knowing that you, personally, were trying to have a moment.
It's fine. You'll find him again. He's just too preoccupied with all the staff members and people to greet. Busy Jake. Social Jake. You're just imagining things. Definitely.
Trying to distract yourself, you glance around the apartment, everything suddenly feeling suffocating. Maybe a snack. Maybe a drink. Maybe a portal to another dimension.
Shaking your head out of your spiraling thoughts, you bite the inside of your cheek to ground yourself and turn away from the crowd, quickly settling yourself near the beverage table, pouring yourself a cup of...whatever this is—your mind too cloudy to even bother looking at the sign on the table.
You don't know how much time passes, and frankly, you don't even know if you're fully conscious. Your mind is still living in the past, lingering in that moment where you locked eyes with Jake for the first time in five months, and despite all the overthinking you did this morning of all the possible scenarios that could happen—this was not one of them.
You're about to pour yourself a second drink just to keep your thoughts busy when you feel a tap on your shoulder.
"Y/N!"
Before you can fully turn around, you're engulfed in a warm hug, the familiar scent of Jungwon's cologne immediately grounding you, "Oh god, I missed you. Took me forever to find you with all these people."
"Jungwon!" You exclaim, a genuine smile lighting up your face despite the emotional tug-of-war in your chest, because, of course, leave it to your best friend to immediately ease your inner panic. You squeeze him back, playfully ruffling his hair as you pull away, "I can't believe they made you grow out your hair. Now you actually look older than me for once."
He stares at you, blinking. "Y/N. I am older than you."
"Literally by a week. We all know I'm mentally older," you deadpan, crossing your arms.
"Okay, I take it back. I didn't miss you after all," he scoffs as you laugh, pulling him into another hug for good measure just to annoy him.
"I'm so glad you guys are back," you say as Jungwon grabs the drink in your hand and takes a sip himself as he listens to you. "I was dying of boredom without you guys."
Jungwon raises an eyebrow, "Uh-huh. Definitely didn't sound like boredom all those nights you called Jake at 2AM."
You freeze. Oh. Great. The one topic you were trying to avoid (how you were going to avoid it—given you're at his literal apartment, with his literal group members, and literal staff members that all work for him—you're not sure. Avoidance was a doomed plan from the start, I fear).
But before you could answer, Jungwon continues, "So...are you guys, like, a thing now? I know you guys were just talking this whole time, but now that we're back, are you guys gonna be in a relationship and all that stuff? Because if so, I need a heads-up. As much I love you both, I don't know if I can stand you two being all couple-y right in front of me—oh, and also—"
"Jungwon."
"—if he hurts you in any way, I swear to god I will not hesitate to—"
"Jungwon!"
He stops, wide-eyed, before flashing you a sheepish smile. "Sorry. But seriously, what's happening? You haven't given me any updates!"
You open your mouth to respond, but the words get caught in your throat. Because if he had asked you yesterday—or even an hour ago—you would've been able to answer confidently. But now? After Jake's apparent Olympic-level avoidance of you? You're not so sure anymore.
"I...I don't know," you mumble, the words barely audible. Jungwon tilts his head, leaning closer to catch them.
"What do you mean, you don't know? You guys haven't talked about it?" His brows furrowing as he studies your face, clearly picking up on your hesitation in true best friend fashion.
"I, uh, I haven't...seen him yet," you admit, hoping the crack in your voice doesn't reveal the real reason you haven't approached the boy in question. "Everyone's busy, and I didn't want to get in the way."
Jungwon gives you a look like you just said the earth is flat.
"Get in the way? Y/N, you're insane. This is the guy who's been counting down the days to see you. If anything, everyone else is in his way."
You give him a helpless shrug, but Jungwon isn't having it. He grabs your shoulders and spins you around, pointing across the room to one of the other snack tables past the crowds of people.
"Look. He's right there. Alone. Perfectly free to talk to you. Go."
Your eyes land on Jake, back facing you and Jungwon, casually scooping chips into a bowl. You hesitate, scanning his relaxed posture, and the knot in your stomach tightens. Because that's exactly the problem. He's perfectly free. And if he's so excited to see you, how come he hasn't spoken to you yet?
But before you can voice your doubts, Jungwon gives you a not-so-gentle nudge forward, "Go talk to him before I carry you over there myself."
And next thing you know, Jake's right there. In front of you. His back is to you still, his eyes scanning the various snacks lined on the table, completely unaware of the full-on mental breakdown occurring just behind him.
This is your moment, you tell yourself, despite the endless alarms going off in your brain. Every single nerve in your body is on high alert, screaming at you to abort mission, abort! But before you can give in to your panic, your hand is already reaching out, lightly tapping his shoulder.
"Jake!"
Jake turns around, and for a moment—a fleeting, fragile moment—you catch it. The way his eyes widen slightly at the sight of you. The way his lips part as if they're about to break into that familiar smile you've missed for months. But just as quickly, similar to earlier, it vanishes, replaced by that flicker of hesitation, and it's enough to make your breath catch.
"Y/N."
Your name on his lips used to sound like a warm promise. Now?
Now it feels like an afterthought.
His voice is calm, steady—too steady, stripped of every ounce of emotion, and not at all like someone who's been counting down the days to see you. He rubs the back of his neck, his gaze flickering to the crowd behind you before reluctantly meeting yours, "It's been so long."
Your stomach sinks. That's all he had to say? You were completely wrong. You spent precisely 23 minutes of your morning debating if he was even going to give you a hug—but now? Screw the hug, he won't even give you a full sentence. Something's off, and your mind races to figure out what happened, as if you missed a major chapter of your own life.
Trying to ignore the sharp pang of something lodging itself in your chest, you offer a small smile, hoping to break the tension.
"Are you...okay? I thought...I don't know, I thought you'd be more excited to see me," the words spill out before you can stop them, and you want to crawl into a self-dug hole from how raw and vulnerable you feel.
Jake shifts uncomfortably, glancing at the floor, then at you, "No, yeah, of course I am. I'm just...really tired. The flight, you know. And all this," he pauses to gesture at the environment around you two, "it's a lot."
You stare at him in disbelief, waiting for him to crack—silently begging for some sign of the Jake you thought you knew. But all you get is a shrug.
A shrug.
Suddenly, his words feel like a punch to the gut, let alone the way he can't even fully look you in the eyes. In just those few seconds, the invisible angel on your shoulder—whose voice sounded just like Jake's—whispering those promises into your ears suddenly disappeared with no trace in sight, as if it was never there—as if it was never yours—in the first place. Every late-night call, every whispered promise, every shared laugh.
As if they never belonged to you.
You swallow hard, trying to keep the growing lump in your throat from choking you, hoping your emotional turmoil isn't blatantly obvious to the boy in front of you.
"Right," you murmur, nodding as if his excuse makes perfect sense. But it doesn't. "That's...understandable."
The silence that follows is suffocating. Not the comfortable kind of warm silence you two used to share, but the awkward, unbearable kind that makes you claw at your own skin and makes you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole right then and there.
Jake shifts again, and for a moment, his eyes meet yours. There's something there—but before you can grasp it, a voice from the crowd calls his name.
"I—I should go," he mutters quickly, stepping back. His voice is quiet, his tone almost apologetic, but his words feel like he's hammering the nails to your coffin. "I'll...see you later though, yeah?"
He doesn't wait for an answer. He's gone before you can say anything, before you can process his words, and for the second time that night, he leaves you standing there with your heart in pieces and your thoughts in chaos.
For a moment, you swear you're paralyzed. You can't move. Can't breathe. Your vision blurs as every doubt you'd buried for months comes rushing back, screaming in your face louder and crueler than ever. You've never felt smaller, more foolish.
Your heart beats erratically now, fighting against the realization of the truth settling in your chest—a heaviness so suffocating it threatens to take you under. The Jake who stood in front of you just now—guarded, distant, a stranger—was so unlike the boy who had made you laugh until your sides ached, who'd stayed up with you on countless late nights, sharing secrets no one else knew.
The Jake who made promises.
Your mind spirals. Maybe...maybe those promises were never meant to be kept. Maybe they were just words to fill the time.
Maybe you were just someone to fill the time.
Your breath starts to pick up and you're frantically scanning the room, desperate for an escape from your thoughts through any familiar face. Your eyes finally land on Ni-ki and Heeseung casually sitting on one of the couches, their carefree laughter a stark contrast to your inner implosion. You beeline to them, forcing a smile on your face as you plop down beside them.
"Y/N!" Ni-ki grins the moment he spots you, scooting over to make room. "Where've you been hiding? Thought you ditched us for good."
"I've been here,“ you give the boys a small smile, praying they don't notice the way your hands tremble as you sit down, “just...mingling."
Heeseung raises an eyebrow at the faint crack in your voice, but doesn't push further, "Well, we all missed you. Pizza pig-out sesh and games tomorrow? You can tell us everything we've been missing out on."
You laugh, trying to keep the conversation light, but it comes out shaky, your voice tight under the weight of your hidden emotions, "I think it's you guys who need to catch me up."
Ni-ki tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at you, "Are you okay? You look...off. What—did someone spill punch on you? Lemme guess, was it Jake?"
At his name, the knife in your stomach twists even deeper, and you look away, hoping they don't notice the way your face falls.
But Heeseung notices. Of course. His gaze sharpens, the playful teasing in his expression replaced with a softened concern, "Y/N...what's going on?"
"I'm fine," you reply a little too quickly, your voice a little too high. You plaster a smile on your face, turning back towards the two boys, concern written all over their faces. "Just tired. Long day."
Neither of them look convinced, but before Heeseung can say anything else, Ni-ki nudges him and gestures towards something across the room.
"Hey...isn't that—"
You follow Ni-ki's gaze, and you immediately wish you didn't.
Because just like that, your world crumbles.
There she is—Jenn.
You're not even wondering when she got here, how she got here, or even why she's here in the first place. No, not even.
Because all that's occupying your mind right now is the way she's there, perched comfortably on Jake's lap on one of the couches in the distance, her arm draped casually over his shoulder.
The way she's laughing freely at something he says, her hand lightly brushing against his as if it's second nature, her fingers briefly pushing a strand of hair away from his face.
The way Jake doesn't even flinch, the way he doesn't pull away.
The way he smiles at her.
That same smile—the one you've spent weeks convincing yourself was yours—now feels like a cruel joke.
And that does it. For the first time that night, despite all you endured, you shatter.
You force yourself to look away, but it's too late. Your chest hollows out deeper and deeper with every passing second, until all you're left with is a final realization:
Maybe you never really had him at all. He was never yours in the first place.
Ni-ki and Heeseung exchange glances before looking at the expression on your face—all the color drained, as if you were merely just a body, paralyzed. Both of them open their mouths, but nothing comes out, clearly unsure of what to say, but you don't give them the chance. You're already standing, grabbing your bag at your side with trembling hands.
"Y/N, wait—" Heeseung starts as both him and Ni-ki stand up with you, but you shake your head, his voice distant and muffled as if he's speaking to you underwater.
"I need some air," you mumble, but you're sure neither of them hear you, your voice barely above a whisper.
Before they can stop you, you're already weaving through the crowd, your vision blurring as you fight the overwhelming urge to break down. You stop at the door, your eyes quickly scanning the cluttered floor for your shoes. For a moment, you think you've made it—escaped the suffocating air and heartbreak clawing at your throat—but a mistake you didn't mean to make stills you.
You glance over your shoulder, and there he is.
Jake's eyes meet yours, and the world comes to a stop. His easy smile slips from his face and is immediately replaced by a flicker of panic, his brows drawing together as if he's just realized something, but you don't stick around to analyze it.
Not when your heart is already in pieces on the floor.
You quickly look the opposite way, fighting the sting of burning tears threatening to spill over as your fingers fumble desperately with the zipper of your coat when you hear a concerned voice from behind you.
"Y/N?" Jungwon's familiar voice cuts through your haze, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. "What—where are you going?"
"Home," you whisper, avoiding his gaze as you finally manage to get your coat on, turning towards the door.
Suddenly, Jungwon steps in front of you, a firm frown on his face, "Hey, hey, what's wrong? Talk to me—"
"Jungwon, I need to go," you look up at him as your voice cracks for the nth time that night, feeling Jake's set of eyes on you still, "Please, Won."
He hesitates, clearly confused but more worried over anything else, "Okay, but I'm driving you."
You sigh, shaking your head, "No, it's fine—"
"I'm driving you," Jungwon repeats, leaving no room for argument as he's already grabbing his coat and walking out the door.
Not bothering to look behind you to see if Jake's still watching, you follow Jungwon out to the hallway, the chill of the air feeling like a fresh wave of emotions crashing over you all at once: embarrassment, anger, heartbreak.
You're too caught up in your spinning thoughts to even notice the sound of frantic footsteps behind you until a voice cuts through the silence.
"Y/N."
His voice is quiet, almost drowned out by the muffled hum of music and laughter seeping from the party you should've escaped from a long time ago.
But still, you hear it anyway—because of course you do. Because it's him. And no matter how much you wish you didn't, you'd silence the entire world just to hear that voice.
And you hate it.
You hate how your entire body freezes mid-step, you hate how every nerve within you comes alive at the sound of his voice, you hate how your heart stumbles, as if trying to root itself in the pain you've been trying so hard to outrun.
You turn around slowly, against every ounce of logic telling you to keep walking. And when your eyes land on him—on the raw, desperate, almost broken look on his face—you hate yourself even more.
Because even now, even after everything, your heart still sinks at the sight. And you hate how you give him the power to break you with just one look.
“Can we talk?” Jake asks, his voice low and unsteady as he takes a small step towards you.
From beside you, Jungwon hesitates, his gaze flickering between you and Jake. After a beat, he nods, "I'll get the car. Wait here."
He spares Jake a final look of warning before nudging you for comfort and stepping into the elevator.
The elevator doors close, leaving you and Jake alone in the hallway, the air thick with unspoken words and emotions.
You swallow hard, your throat tight, but you steel yourself, "What do you want, Jake?"
You shift your weight and instinctively cross your arms, a defensive barrier between you and the boy you spent too long letting into your heart. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the vulnerability in them makes your resolve falter.
He takes a hesitant step towards you before exhaling shakily, running a hand through his hair.
“I—I messed up tonight. I didn’t mean to...," he trails off, his words fumbling, his eyes searching yours in desperation, his heart breaking at the way your tears are a second away from falling over.
"...to completely ignore me all night? Make me feel like nothing?" You finish for him, your quiet voice breaking despite your attempt to stay composed.
"No. God, no. You're not nothing," he says quickly, his voice faltering on the last word. "Y/N, you matter so much to me."
“Well it definitely didn't feel that way,” your voice is barely audible, but you finally look up at him, the hurt finally bubbling to the surface. “After everything you said—promised, everything we talked about…”
"I know, I just—" he hesitates, his voice barely above a whisper. He takes a tentative step closer, his movements slow and careful, like he's afraid you'll break if he gets too close. "I was nervous."
"It’s been so long, and I didn’t know what to say, how to act. I wanted to get it right—to make it perfect—but instead, I just—" he stops, dragging another frustrated hand through his hair. His eyebrows knit together in that familiar way that once made your heart flutter, but now only adds to the ache in your chest.
You let out a hollow laugh, the bitter sound foreign even to your own ears, “Well, congratulations, Jake. You managed to mess it up anyway.”
“Please,” he looks devastated, his hands trembling at his sides. “Y/N, please don’t think I don’t care about you. I do. More than you know. I just—I don't know how to do this. I panicked and I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear."
"Then why was...," you look at him, your eyes still stinging from all the unshed tears as you take a shaky breath, “...why was she all over you tonight? Why didn’t you stop her?”
He falters, his shoulders slumping under the weight of your question, “It wasn’t what it looked like. I didn’t—I couldn’t—”
“You couldn’t,” you echo, the words spilling out in a rush now, each one cutting him deeper. “I should've known. Let me guess, she wants to get back together, right?"
Jake's silence is deafening, and it immediately answers your question. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. The way he looks at you—eyes wide and filled with regret, lips trembling as if searching for the right words—confirms everything you were afraid of.
You squeeze your eyes shut, a shaky breath escaping your lips—a sound caught somewhere between a scoff and a choked sob. No matter how hard you try, the wall holding back your emotions cracks under the weight of it all. The doubts you’ve tried so hard to bury suddenly resurface, crashing over you like waves, each one carrying the sting of every insecurity, every fear you’ve ever had about this moment. Your chest feels tight, your heart splintering under the realization that everything you were afraid of might be true.
"Jake, I can't do this," you whisper, shaking your head. "I can't be the person you lean on while you try to figure out what you want."
"No, no—Y/N, I do know what I want," he pleads, his voice cracking as he tries to step closer. "And it’s you. Always been you, Y/N. Everything I said—I meant it."
His words hang heavy in the air, the faint echo of the party music filtering through the cracks in the door and into the quiet hallway. You look away, refusing to let him see the way your tears finally spill over.
"You promised," you let out softly and slowly, through your sniffles. “You promised you wouldn't hurt me. You said you'd prove that I could trust you, that I didn't have to be scared. You knew I was worried, Jake. And you...you hurt me anyways."
"And I swear I meant every word I said. I still do," Jake says, his voice desperate as he shakes his head. He steps even closer, his hand reaching out and brushing against yours, but you pull back before he can close the distance. "You have to believe me. Please, Y/N. You're the only one."
You shake your head again, the tears now freely rushing down your cheeks despite your best efforts, "I—I don't know if I can believe that anymore, Jake. I want to, I really, really do. But tonight..."
Jake’s face falls, the weight of your pain crashing into him all at once. His lips tremble as he struggles to hold himself together, his eyes turning glassy themselves. The sight of you—broken, because of him—cuts deeper than he thought was humanly ever possible. His voice is barely above a whisper, raw and pleading, “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I—God, please. Please give me a chance.”
You look at him—at the boy who became your safe space these past few months—and all you feel is the ache in your heart.
"I can't do this right now, Jake," you finally let out through your broken voice as you take a step back. "I think I just need space."
The words hang in the air like a death sentence. His breath hitches as if your words physically hit him in the face, "Y/N..."
Your phone suddenly buzzes, a text from Jungwon letting you know he's outside. You glance down at it, then back at Jake. For a moment, you hesitate, your heart screaming at you to stay—to give him the chance he's yearning for. But your brain knows better.
"I have to go," you murmur softly, as you take a final step back, turning away before more tears threaten to spill all over again. You force yourself to keep walking, fighting the overwhelming urge to look back—to let him pull you into his arms, where you wished so desperately you belonged.
Frozen, Jake watches helplessly as you walk away, his chest tightening with every step you take. Everything feels like it's caving in, regret clawing at him the more he lets you walk further away. He opens his mouth to say something—anything—but the words fail him, silenced by the weight of his own mistakes.
To Jake, the sounds of the party are now far in the distance, drowned out by the pounding in this ears. Instead, the hallway falls into a haunting silence, broken only by the faint echo of your retreating steps—a cruel reminder of what he's just let slip away.
The car ride starts in complete silence, the only sound between you and Jungwon the soft hum of his engine and the faint sound of whatever playlist he was playing in the background. You stare out the window, watching the city lights blur together, your coat clutched tightly under your grasp as if it's the only thing keeping you sane.
Jungwon glances at you out the corner of his eye, his hands steady on the steering wheel. He doesn't say anything at first, but you know him well enough to sense the storm brewing in his head.
"Okay," he finally says, as if on cue, breaking the silence. "Spill."
You don't respond, your eyes still fixed on the surrounding city breezing by you, as if the passing view could somehow erase the memory of him. Your fingers dig further into the fabric of your coat, your knuckles going numb.
Jungwon gives you a few more moments of silence, but when you don't make any sign of responding, he speaks up again.
"Y/N," his voice softens, but the edge of his concern cuts through. "Don't do that thing where you shut people out. Especially me, you know I hate that."
"I'm not—" you start, but your voice wavers, and the lie dies on the tip of your tongue.
“You are," he exhales sharply from beside you, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "Look, you don't have to tell me everything, but don't pretend you're fine when you're clearly not."
The words sit heavy in the air as you swallow hard, your throat burning as you finally whisper, "It's stupid, Jungwon."
He doesn't take his eyes off the road, but his tone is firm, "I'm sure if it's got you looking like this, it's not stupid."
You want to argue, to tell him to just let it go, but the hurt pressing down on your chest is too much. The ache in your body threatens to take over again, and you hate it. You hate how the tears form again, how you can still see Jake looking at you like that, like you were breaking right in front of him and he didn't know how to stop it.
Jungwon waits. He doesn't push, because he knows you. He knows you're just hurting, struggling to grasp your overwhelming emotions, so he gives you the time you need. But his quiet patience is unbearable, like he's peeling back every layer of your resolve just by being there, and eventually, you give in.
"It's Jake," you finally choke out, the name tumbling from your lips like a curse.
Jungwon doesn't respond immediately, but you can feel the shift in his demeanor. His jaw tightens, and his fingers flex against the wheel, "I figured as much honestly, after what I saw in the hallway, but what exactly happened, Y/N?"
You shake your head, your voice shaky, "It doesn't matter. I—I just feel so stupid, Won. Like, how could I think..."
You trail off, biting the inside of your cheek hard enough to draw blood. Jungwon gives you a softened glance, signaling you to continue whenever you're ready to.
You take a deep breath before you speak up again, "How could I ever think I was good enough for him, you know?"
There's a silence that follows after your words and you hear Jungwon take in a deep inhale.
"This isn't on you, Y/N. This has nothing to do with whether you're enough or not," Jungwon's voice is steady, but there's a firm edge to it now. "Look, I don't want to overstep or anything...and I definitely don't want to vouch for him—especially right now but...are you sure he's not just freaking out?"
You tilt your head over at the boy next to you, "Freaking out about what?"
"You," Jungwon says simply like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"That doesn't make any sense," you start shaking your head. "Why would he—"
"Because you're you," Jungwon interrupts, his tone matter-of-fact as he keeps his eyes trained on the road in front of him. "And Jake's a complete idiot, but even idiots get scared when they care about someone as much as he clearly cares about you."
You blink, Jungwon's words sinking into all the cracks formed within you, "You really think he cares about me that much?"
“Are you kidding?” Jungwon scoffs, his expression a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “Y/N, the guy looks at you like you hung his moon and stars. Trust me, I’ve seen it.”
And you don't know what comes over you, but Jungwon's words hit you like a punch to the gut, and suddenly, the tears you've been holding back come rushing forward, hot and relentless. You cover your face with your hands, your body shaking as the sobs you've been swallowing all night finally make their way out.
Jungwon quickly looks over at you and, without hesitation, glances over his shoulder to pull over to the side of the road, the soft clicking of the hazard lights mixing in with your cries. When he finally puts the car in park, he doesn't say anything and just leans back in his seat, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder—close enough to remind you he's there, but not too much to smother you.
"I'm sorry," you manage to gasp out between sobs, your hands going up to wipe your face as all the overwhelming emotions finally take over you.
"Don't," Jungwon says firmly, "Don't apologize for feeling like this."
You take a shaky breath, trying to pull yourself together as your sobs eventually start to slow down, "I just don't understand. If he cares so much, why does this hurt so bad?"
"I don't think it's about how much he cares," Jungwon sighs, as if carrying your pain alongside you. "Sometimes...sometimes people care so much that they don't know what to do with it. They panic. They overthink. And they mess up in the worst ways because they don't know how to handle what they're feeling."
You look up at him, your face still wet with tears, "So you're saying it's an excuse."
"No," Jungwon replies, quickly shaking his head fervently. "Definitely not an excuse. Jake screwed up, Y/N. Big time. And it's 100% on him to fix that, not you. But—"
He pauses and thinks for a second, his words deliberate, "—it doesn't mean his feelings aren't real. Or that he doesn't care about you."
You look away, glancing down at your hands in your lap, fiddling with the hem of your coat as you take in Jungwon's words.
"It's just feels like...like I'm the only one who got hurt here, Won. Like I'm the only one who..," you trail off, unable to form your thoughts into a coherent sentence, but leave it up to Jungwon to always fully understand you.
"You're not the only one," he says softly. "He's hurting too, Y/N. Maybe not in the same way, and maybe he doesn't deserve any sympathy, but I can see it. I've seen it. Jake...Jake isn't Jake without you. And honestly? That idiot is probably tearing himself apart right now."
Your lips part, but the words don't find you. Instead, you let the weight of Jungwon's words sink in, unsure what to do with how true they may be.
"You don't have to forgive him right now," Jungwon adds after a moment. "Hell, you don't even have to forgive him at all. Honestly, that might satisfy me just a bit. But maybe...maybe you owe it to yourself to hear him out. Not for him, but for you."
You turn to Jungwon, your lips forming into the smallest pout, "But what if it just makes everything worse?"
He gives you a faint, grounding smile, equal parts reassuring and honest.
"Then you walk away knowing you did everything you could—for yourself. And if it does come to that," he shrugs lightly, "we'll figure it out together."
You're quiet for a long moment, the thought of walking away from Jake and everything he means to you terrifying you…but you know Jungwon's right. You owe yourself the chance to try—even if the unknown outcome fails you.
With a shaky breath, you nod, brushing away the last of your tears, "Thanks, Jungwon."
"You're welcome," Jungwon hums in acknowledgement before his lips curve into a small grin, the atmosphere lightening slightly, "but, uh, could you at least use the tissues in the glove compartment before my seats turn into a snot rag?"
You manage to let out a small scoff of disbelief as you roll your watery eyes, "You're the worst."
"Nah," Jungwon replies with a cheeky grin as he shifts the car back into drive, but not before he reaches over to ruffle your hair playfully. "C'mon. Let's get you home."
The knocking at Jungwon’s door comes at the worst possible moment.
He’s halfway through organizing his desk—something he only attempts when he’s too frustrated to sit still—and the last thing he expects to see when he swings the door open is Jake, standing there looking like he hasn’t slept a millisecond all night.
Jungwon makes no sign of saying anything or making a move, just staring at the older boy in question. Jakes shifts uncomfortably, running a hand through his messy hair, not used to seeing Jungwon in this sour, expressionless mood.
"Hey," Jake finally says, his voice hesitant.
“What do you want?” Jungwon deadpans, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He knows he sounds harsh, but, frankly, he doesn’t care.
Jake falters for a moment, his gaze dropping to the ground, "I...I need your help."
Jungwon's eyes narrow, "With what, exactly?"
He knows what, but he's not letting Jake off that easily. Not after last night.
"With Y/N," your name hangs in the air between them as Jake's voice cracks, and Jungwon clenches his jaw before he lets out a frustrated sigh.
"I don't think you're in any position to be asking me for help right now."
"I know," Jake says quickly, his hands raising in surrender. "I know, okay? I screwed up big time. I—God, I don't even know where to start, Jungwon. I just...I don't want to make things worse."
Jungwon lets out a bitter, humorless laugh, stepping back and motioning his head to let Jake enter his room, "You've already got a good head start on that, I see."
Jake steps inside, awkwardly hovering near the door as Jungwon moves to sit on the edge of his own bed. He doesn't offer Jake a seat, and Jake doesn't ask for one.
"She cried, you know," Jungwon says after a few moments of silence, his voice stone cold. "I had to pull over because she couldn't even hold it together long enough for me to get her home. I've known her my entire life, and I don't think I've ever seen her cry that hard, Jake."
Jake flinches, the words physically hurting him, "I didn't mean to—"
"Yeah, I know," the younger boy cuts him off, his voice sharp, his anger rising on behalf of you. "You didn't mean to hurt her. But you did. And now you're asking me to help you fix it like it's that easy."
"It's not easy," Jake mutters quietly, his hands fumbling with the edge of his hoodie. "Nothing about this...none of it is easy. But I know I messed up, and I—I can't just leave things like this, I can't lose her, Jungwon. I care about her too much."
Jungwon deadpans at his friend, fighting back the urge to scoff in his face, "If you cared about her, you wouldn't have let her walk out of that party looking like her entire world was falling apart."
Jake looks up, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with something Jungwon can't quite name...desperation, maybe. Or guilt. Or both.
"I didn't know what to do," Jake finally admits, his voice still barely above a whisper, as if admitting to himself for the first time, too. "I saw her, and she looked so...broken. And I—I panicked, I didn't know what to do, and by the time I realized, she was gone."
Jungwon leans back, groaning as he runs a hand over his face. The anger bubbling within him hasn't fully faded, but he knows there's something else now—something softer, something that makes it harder to keep his protective guard for you up.
Because he knows Jake isn't lying.
"You don't get to half-ass this, Jake," Jungwon finally says after he thinks to himself. "She's not some random girl you're trying to impress, she isn't Jenn. This is Y/N. If you want to fix things, you have to be ready to own up to everything. No excuses, no backing out. She deserves that much."
Jake nods quickly, his eyes wide and hopeful at Jungwon's slight change in demeanor, “I will. I swear, I will.”
"And don't think she's going to forgive you right away," Jungwon adds. "She's hurt. You have to give her time. This isn't about what you want—it's about what she needs."
Jake swallows hard, nodding again, “I just want to talk to her. To explain. To tell her I’m sorry and—”
His voice cracks, and he looks down, his hands trembling slightly. Jungwon lets out a sigh, his mixed feelings turning more into something closer to pity. Because as much as he wants to stay mad for your sake, he's known Jake long enough to know that he's a good guy—and that his heart is in the right place.
But even more than that, he knows you. And he knows how much Jake means to you, even if you won't admit it, especially not now more than ever.
"You're actually an idiot," Jungwon says after a few beats, his voice carrying a lighter tone now. "But for some godforsaken reason, knowing her, I think she might actually miss you."
Jake looks up from his hands, his eyes searching Jungwon's face for any flicker of doubt, "You really think so?"
Jungwon shrugs, standing up and moving towards his door, "I think you've got a lot of work to do if you want to earn her trust back. But...I think you still have a chance."
Jake doesn't say anything as he follows Jungwon to the door, but the look on his face says enough—there's a new slight look of hope. It's small, but he's clutching onto it like it’s his lifeline.
“You know," Jungwon says when he reaches the doorway. "Y/N’s not the type to let people in easily. She puts up walls—but with you…she let them down. You’re special to her, Jake, even if she doesn’t say it. Don’t throw that away. For her sake, and yours.”
“I won’t,” Jake promises, his voice steady now. “Thank you, Jungwon.”
Jungwon nods at the older boy before giving him a faint smile, "And just so you know, I defended you yesterday. So don't prove me wrong or I'm actually going to deck you."
Jake lets out a weak laugh as he hangs outside Jungwon's door, "Noted. I promise I won't let her down again."
Jungwon doesn’t respond, just closes the door with a soft click, and hopes—for all their sakes—that Jake means it.
Jake [5:12PM]: hi Y/N Jake [5:12PM]: i know I'm the last person you want to hear from right now. and i don’t blame you at all Jake [5:13PM]: but i cant just stay silent and let this sit between us, and i value you too much to not respect you needing space and just show up at your door Jake [5:14PM]: even though it’s killing me to stay away Jake [5:14PM]: after you left the party last night, i went back inside. i told jenn that whatever we had in the past is exactly that, the past. and i swear to you, Y/N, there’s nothing between us. there hasn’t been for a long time. and it’s my fault for making it seem otherwise. Jake [5:15PM]: and as for how i acted…i don’t even know where to start. i fucked up extremely. nothing will excuse my actions and i don’t expect you to forgive me. but i need to apologize properly, you deserve that much. Jake [5:17PM]: please let me see you, Y/N. i don’t deserve it, and i don’t deserve you. but you mean everything to me, and i hate that i hurt you. and i promise, if you let me, i’ll do everything to make it up to you.
You stare at the phone in your hand, the messages feeling like salt to an open wound. The words on the screen begin to blur together as tears prick your eyes, spilling over before you even realize it. You don't bother wiping them away—the sting in your chest too raw, too heavy. Each word feels like Jake is standing right there in front of you, his voice soft and broken, tangled with regret.
You tell yourself to stop reading. You've already gone through the same messages at least a hundred times in the past ten minutes, overanalyzing each syllable as if they hold the answers to all of your questions.
And yet, you can't stop.
You want to be angry. You are angry. Or, at least, you think. Because beneath the flame of your anger that's already threatening to die out? There's an ache you can't ignore—a small, stubborn part of you that refuses to let go to the sincerity in his words, clinging onto the hope that he's telling you the truth.
You mean everything to me, and I hate that I hurt you. I promise, if you let me, I'll do everything to make it up to you.
The ache twists harder, curling into doubt. What if he means it? What if he's telling the truth?
But of course, the fear rises just as quickly. Because what if he's not? What if you let him back in, and it all falls apart again? What if you let yourself believe in him, giving him the second chance he's asking for, only to have your heart shattered worse than before?
And then, there's Jungwon's voice, soft but steady, cutting through the chaos brewing in your mind: "Even idiots get scared when they care about someone as much as he clearly cares about you."
Your breath catches.
Because that's the worst part. Knowing that maybe—just maybe—Jake really does care. Knowing that maybe he's telling the truth—and you're the one too afraid to take the risk, ready to build up the walls Jake's managed to get through.
Your phone screen suddenly dims, pulling you out of your thoughts and back into the moment. You blink rapidly, wiping at your face, your mind a mess of emotions you can't untangle or describe.
Fear. Hope. Doubt.
And something else—something you're afraid to admit, but you know is unmistakably real.
And it's stronger than the fear churning in your chest—it's something that's pulling you forward.
Your heart pounds almost out of your rib cage as you let out a shaky breath, the weight on your shoulders pressing harder and harder with every second you hesitate. The ache doesn't let up, but neither does your hope.
So you stop thinking altogether, letting your heart take control instead.
You shut your eyes, as if bracing yourself for a crash, take a deep breath, unlock your phone, and let your fingers fly across the screen, each word feeling like a leap off a cliff.
You hit send.
Y/N [5:30PM]: hi jake Y/N [5:30PM]: you can come over
The soft knock at your door startles you, even though you know it’s coming.
“Y/N?”
His voice. Jake’s voice.
Your heart clenches painfully, a conflicting mix of longing and hurt washing over you all at once. It hasn't even been a full day since the party, but the weight of his absence has already hollowed you out, leaving a hole you can't ignore. You know he's the one who caused it—that the cracks in your heart are his doing—but at the same time, the stubborn part of you whispers that he's also the only one who can mend them.
You make your way to the door, your movements hesitant as you crack it open, peek out, and...there he is.
"Hi," Jake says softly.
He's a mess. A beautiful, saddened mess—his hair messy, like he's been running his hands through it all day, his eyes rimmed with the kind of exhaustion that isn't just physical. One hand is buried deep in his jacket, and in the other—
"Flowers?" You ask, raising a brow in surprise.
Jake's ears turn red. "Yeah. Uh, I didn't know if you had a favorite, so I got—"
You open the door wider, revealing the full bouquet—daisies, tulips, roses, all wrapped together in crinkled tissue paper.
"—a little bit of everything," he finishes awkwardly, his voice trailing off, pausing for a second before holding them out to you with a sheepish smile.
Your lips twitch subconsciously, despite everything.
"Jake, you're literally allergic."
His mouth opens, then closes, the redness from his ears now spreading to his cheeks.
"Well, yeah, but—," Jake mumbles, shifting on his feet. "—not, like, deadly or anything dramatic like that."
He pauses, his voice dropping into something softer, more vulnerable, "I just wanted you to have them. That's all."
You feel your insides tighten, the sincerity in his voice getting to you. For a moment, all you can manage to do is stare at him—at the way his eyes are silently pleading, wide and unsure.
You hesitate for a second, then step back and open the door wider.
"Thank you," you say quietly, your fingers brushing against his as you take the bouquet, sending a flicker of warmth through you. "Come in."
Jake hesitates, his eyes searching yours like he's not sure if he's actually allowed to. When you turn away and walk towards your kitchen, he finally steps inside, kicking off his shoes quickly and hovering by the door like he doesn't know what to expect next.
You set the flowers down on the counter, adjusting them carefully before turning back to him. He's still standing there, stiff and uncertain, the distance between you feeling larger than ever before.
"So..." You say, crossing your arms tightly across yourself, shifting your weight as a way to ground yourself—though the lump in your throat makes it feel impossible.
Jake exhales shakily, his hands fidgeting by his sides and gaze darting to the floor before finally landing on you, "I came to apologize. Properly."
You blink at him, expression unreadable, "You already said sorry."
Your voice comes out sharper than intended, surprising even yourself, but the words leave before you can stop them. Jake flinches, just slightly, but he nods, knowing he deserved that.
"Not like I should have," he says, stepping closer, his voice low and careful, like he's afraid you'll run out of your own apartment. "I know I messed up. I hurt you, and I hate that I did. I hate that I made you feel like you weren't enough or that someone else could ever compare to you, Y/N."
Your arms tighten around yourself as if the words might knock the breath out of you as look away, unsure if you can meet the rawness in his eyes.
"Last night," Jake continues, his eyes filling with guilt, "I didn't handle last night right. And not just how I handled Jenn, but I let my own insecurities and stupid fears of being perfect for you get in the way. I let it happen and mess everything up. I let you think that you didn't matter to me, and I will never forgive myself, Y/N."
His words hang in the air, heavy yet sincere, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him as you process his words slowly.
"And I don't expect you to forgive me either, Y/N," Jake's voice wavers before he continues, "but I need you to know that I'm so, so sorry. No excuses. For all of it—for making you feel like anything less than everything, for making you feel like you weren't my first choice. Because you are. You're my only, Y/N."
His words hit you with a force that crashes over the walls you tried so desperately to build. They're overwhelming yet tender, like rediscovering a piece of yourself you hadn't even realized you lost. And you want to let them comfort you, you do. But the pain from last night lingers deep down, reminding you of why you built those walls in the first place.
For a moment, the silence stretches on longer than you intend, the weight of his words settling in the air between you. Jake doesn't look away though—his gaze unwavering, vulnerable, and raw.
As though he's laid himself bare before you, giving you the power to either accept or shatter him completely.
When you finally find your voice, it trembles despite your best efforts, "Jake...I don't know if I can just forget what happened."
"I'm not asking you to forget," he says quickly, taking another step closer until there's only a few feet left between you. "I just want the chance to fix us. I can't lose you like this, Y/N."
Your breath catches at the proximity, his presence pulling you in like gravity. The pain from last night tries to claw its way back into your heart—sharp and bitter—but his warmth reminds you of something else that refuses to be ignored.
That flicker of hope that's demanding your attention, screaming at you to just let him in—not just for his sake, but for you.
You take a deep breath, finally meeting his gaze. "Jake, I don't need you to...to be this perfect person. I don't need you to prove anything to me."
You pause, pushing past the lump in your throat, "Because since the beginning, I always believed you. And...I think I still do. Even after last night, I still believe you, Jake. No matter how hard I try to."
Jake lets out a breath he thinks he's been holding in for hours, "Really?"
"Yeah," you nod slowly, as if reassuring yourself as much as him. "But I don't need any of your promises or proof or any of that. I just...I just need you as you."
His eyes soften at you as he nods so quickly it's almost desperate.
"And I need you to be honest with me, Jake," you continue before he can speak. "If we do this, I need to know I can trust you. Because I don't know if I can do this...this waiting game anymore."
"You can," he says immediately, closing the distance between you two, making your breath hitch. You can see the way his hands are trembling, the slight quiver in his lips. "You can trust me. No more hesitation. I'm all in, Y/N. This is it for me, you're it."
You search his face for any sign of doubt, any speck of hesitation. But all you find is his sincerity—so hopeful and so real—the kind that makes you want to let him in fully and let your walls crumble all over again.
So you do.
"Okay," you say softly, almost as if you're testing the word.
Jake's eyes widen, the relief and hope flooding his features. Slowly, as if asking for permission, he reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours tentatively.
"Okay?" He whispers, his voice barely audible to you as his eyes flicker between your hands and your face.
You nod, your own hand turning over so your fingers curl around his in an instinctive gesture that feels so natural it makes you want to scream. The warmth of his touch feels like the first real comfort you've felt in forever, and it's enough to make your resolve slip.
"But," you add softly, your eyes not leaving the way his hand wraps around yours so perfectly, "this doesn't mean everything's fine. We need to talk. We need to figure out where we stand, and where we go from there."
Jake nods again, his grip on your hand tightening slightly, "We will. Whatever it takes, Y/N, I'll do it. I need you to know how much you mean to me and I'll never stop trying to show you that."
You let out a shaky breath as you take in his words, finally looking up from your intertwined hands to meet his eyes, your own slowly filling with the tears you've been holding back.
"You really hurt me, Jake," you say quietly, your voice breaking from the sheer weight of your vulnerability being laid bare.
Jake's face crumbles instantly, guilt etched into every line of his expression. Without hesitation, his free hand comes up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb light brushing away the tears that fall, as if he's afraid you might pull away.
Your eyes flutter closed at the warmth of his hand, and despite the emotions raging inside you, you let yourself lean into him. It feels both reckless, yet inevitable, like free-falling and trusting—knowing—he'll catch you.
"I know," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion he can't swallow down. "And I'll spend as long as it takes to deserve you, Y/N. I'll never make you feel like that again."
You nod weakly, and before you can think too much, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into the safety of his chest, his chin moving to rest on top of your head as his warmth envelops you completely.
And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself break, burying your face into his chest as the tears flow freely, the weight of everything finally breaking free as you let yourself melt into his tight embrace.
It's not perfect. It's not a fix-all.
But as Jake holds you close, whispering quiet reassurances into your hair, you know it's a start.
And a start is all you need.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・
epilogue:
“Hi, pretty.”
“Hi, Jake.”
On the other end of the call, Jake lets out a playful scoff. Even with the slight lag, you can see his lips twitch into that familiar pout—the one that still gives you butterflies, no matter how many times you've see it now, even a year later.
“After all we’ve been through, you still won’t give me a cute pet name?”
You roll your eyes, biting back a grin, “What do you want me to say? Hi, my handsome, perfect, kindest, funniest, boyfriend in the whole wide world?”
Jake leans closer to the camera, his expression completely serious as if you should already know his answer, "...Yes."
Giggles burst out of you, shaking your head at his antics. “You’re too cute to be doing all that, Jake. Pick a struggle.”
He clutches his chest dramatically, “You know, what? You’re my struggle—I fly across time zones, run on three hours of sleep, and you still won’t give me a crumb of your affection?”
“You’re exhausting.”
“And yet…,” Jake trails off with a teasing smirk, his voice dropping into that playful, yet low lilt that still makes your stomach flip to this day. "Here you are, calling me at 1AM in the morning.”
Your cheeks flush as you glance away from the screen, trying to ignore the way his teasing gaze makes you feel, "Don’t' get confused, it's not like I wanted to or anything. I just figured someone should remind you to go to bed or else you'll look like a zombie tomorrow at the fanmeet."
Jake laughs softly, the sound grounding you in a certain way only he ever can. "You're so thoughtful, babe. My number-one hater and number-one fan, all at once. I'm so lucky."
You send him an air kiss, the teasing grin on your face mirrored by the fond one tugging at his lips. He looks at you like he did in that first-ever call way back then—like you're his whole world, and he can't believe you're real.
"How's the jet lag this time?" You ask, steering the conversation to safer ground.
"It's not so bad," he shrugs, despite the clear exhaustion in his voice. "At least this trip is only for a few days. Then I can come back to the comfort of our bed."
You raise an eyebrow, "My bed."
Jake's eyes narrow, "Our bed. Just admit it—you miss me."
You pause. "Maybe. Just a little."
His grin widens, and for a moment, neither of you say anything, the conversation lulling into an easy silence—the kind of warmth that only comes with knowing someone so well.
Finally, you shift under your blanket, getting comfortable as Jake watches you through this screen, his gaze tender, as though memorizing the curve of your smile, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear.
"You should sleep," you murmur, holding your phone closer to your face. The glow of your phone reflecting off your soft features sends palpations to Jake's chest so loud he almost doesn't hear your words.
"Mm, I really should," Jake sighs, though he doesn't move an inch. "I'll talk to you soon, yeah?"
"Mmhm," you hum, your eyes closing at the softness of his voice.
“Sleep tight. I love you,” his says, voice soft and deliberate, making sure you feel every word.
“Goodnight, Jakey,” you tease, letting the smirk creep into your voice, peeking an eye open just to catch his reaction.
Jake groans dramatically, running a hand down his face, “Y/N…not this again.”
You giggle, the fondness within you growing tenfold as you take in his face—the slight pout of his lips, his messy hair, his eyes shining with unwavering adoration for you.
“I said I love youuu,” he whines, dragging out the last word, his lips tugging into the tiniest of smiles, his entire universe reflecting from his eyes.
Finally, you give in, smiling sweetly.
“I love you, too, Jake. You already know.”
And you’ve never meant anything more.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・
Songs that Remind me of Y/N:
From the first call to forever—you've always been my favorite melody. Yours, Jake <3
"As I Am" – Justin Bieber (ft. Khalid)
"Daylight" – Taylor Swift
"DIE 4 YOU" - Dean
"Psycho, Pt. 2" – Russ
"Heaven" – Bazzi
"Every Kind of Way" – H.E.R.
"Off My Face" – Justin Bieber
"Before You" – Benson Boone
"Sunflower" – Post Malone & Swae Lee
"Pink + White" – Frank Ocean
"No Doubt" – Enhypen <3
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・
the end! if you made it all the way, this is for you:
⸜(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡♡♡♡♡♡
p.s. i wanted to leave the ending kinda up to interpretation—hence the time skip to a year later..but lowkey what if i wrote short drabbles/scenes of things jake does to gain Y/N's trust again, from small to big gestures etc etc..lmk if that's something anyone would wanna see !!
<3, addie
m.list here!
tag list (love you all <3):
(i hope it let me tag everyone!)
@thesassy-mia @ikeulove @renaishun @xylatox @puma-riki @blackberryrains @dreamiestay @junislqve @lamin143 @dreamy-carat @etherealhan @vvenusoncasual @belovedsthings @somuchdard @sumzysworld @mirouie @almondtofu006 @fancypeacepersona @vivimura @hollxe1 @missthang600 @sugarikiz @sanasour @enhamonsterghoul @etherealriki
#enhypen x reader#enhypen angst#enhypen jake#enhypen#jake sim#enhypen fics#enhypen jake sim#enhypen imagines#enhypen fluff#enhypen scenarios#enha x reader#enha imagines#enha fluff#enha scenarios#jake sim x reader#jake sim imagines#jake sim fluff#sim jake x reader#sim jake imagines#sim jake fluff#jake#sim jaeyun fluff#sim jaeyun imagines#sim jaeyun x reader#sim jaeyun#enha#jake enhypen#engene#heeseung enhypen#ficrecs
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It's fine, it's nearly his birthday too so I'll try to get her before then.
-Izana
.......wait, his birthday? Hmmmmm......how are you going to approach her exactly?
#hals character anons#you mean the birthday wd all made up lol#that was fun i remember when that happened#cos he didn't have an unofficial birthday 😭
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You know how Logan prefers to call it his Appreciation Day instead of his birthday, namely because he thinks it's ridiculous that its the anniversary of the teacher character from vine instead of his own first appearance, or just Thomas' birthday?
I realized none of the other sides share that opinion, seeing as Roman and Patton's birthdays are the anniversary of their vine counterparts too, and they don't seem to mind in the slightest.
Then again, looking back at those old vines, I think there's a reason why Logan in particular has an issue with it being referred to as his unofficial "birthday" of sorts:
He just can't stand the character.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/ecc947c50a2a28878f868de2a0944c6d/478b8e5387c75559-c0/s540x810/0f247de6b8d422132b553c765aaa55a970a33a75.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/bf1a8524e9f76471ed1288b77ba49a7c/478b8e5387c75559-e2/s540x810/4f05fbdcdccc66237a986e4e69f69acdd6287de2.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/739855b73a44e7f748d5a4b753d21784/478b8e5387c75559-99/s540x810/7007c7ebc3bc21d727822577d172bcdd6e319627.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/4b8295e4e0ef82bd14e9154e73e25aa8/478b8e5387c75559-c1/s540x810/ea0aeb06710c09c74ed3f6212549ca6b344b2039.jpg)
I mean, seriously, the vine teacher is a chill and goofy slacker who'd rather do anything than actually learn or teach, of course Logan wouldn't want to associate with him if he can help it.
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THEY CALL ME FATHER. I ACCEPTED THE TITLE
characters. neuvillette x gn!reader genre. domestic romantic fluff. an. this is me getting to say neuvillette is daddy in an extremely sfw manner. he is melusine daddy i do not make the rules | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D
so firstly. the melusines. they are absolute suckers for him. his greatest fans. if neuvillette has 10 fans they are the melusine. if neuvillette has 1 fan it is a melusine. if neuvillette has 0 fans the melusine is dead. if teyvat is against neuvillette, the melusines are against the world. need i explain more
anyways!!! he unofficially adopts them. i think thats just so cute like imagine waking up one day and your husband just goes "im the father of a race of sea creatures who live in a village. we have 300 children btw"
the melusines loooove to help you out around the house! they let u go for work while the older melusines are scrubbing dishes and hanging clothes (BABY MELUSINE CLOTHES!!!!!.) and rearranging neuvillette's hair ties into a little waterproof box
and yes!!! they love to tie neuvillette's hair! granted, they don't do a very good job – the melusines' hands are so, so so small anyways. your husband never dares to tell them that it doesn't look good, or it could be a little looser, he winces – he doesn't want to hurt them. after all, they look so happy to be a part of his morning routine!
they love to give neuvillette different hairstyles. some days it's pigtails, some days it's braids – all simple hairstyles, elevated with rainbow hair ties and seashell pins. the younger melusines love helping with his hair, and they all clamor onto his lap: tippytoed and standing on each other's shoulders. if one of the melusines can't reach his knees, neuvillette lifts them up by their arms and sits them on his lap to help.
and they all crowd around the door when saying goodbye to you and neuvillette for the day! the little melusines excitedly shove snacks, hairties, water pouches (that are melusine sized: they definitely aren't enough for neuvillette) and anything that they can think of that will help you with your day – right into your pockets
a slightly bigger melusine trots out of the house with a water bottle almost the size of her own frame, strapped to her back like a knapsack. she wobbles slightly, looking almost like a toddler playing with adult sized items. it doesn't help that neuvillette is so tall himself. he bends down to unstrap the water bottle and thank the dutiful melusine for helping him carry it. you swear that the melusine's eyes light up!
when coming home from work, the melusines excitedly count down the minutes until you and neuvillette arrives home, right on schedule. they greet him with a cheery "surprise!" as he opens the front door, greeted with the sight of his melusine children holding up a messily painted banner with the words "welcome home papa and (gender neutral parent term)!". he chuckles to himself, assuming that they weren't tall enough to tack the banner onto the wall. it's a cute surprise, anyways.
neuvillette also keeps a calendar of his children's birthdays!!! every week there's at least two birthdays going on so. he makes sure to have a little gift and cake prepared. a lot of the melusines like to go up to him and hint at it being their birthdays soon ("papa!! dyou know what day it is next week?? do you??!!") and he loves being playful with them and teasing them in return ("hm... is it tuesday?"), watching as the little melusine pouts. he gently hints at a present coming for their birthday soon, and the little sweetheart just beams.
reblogs w/ tags & comments appreciated !!!
taglist: @tiredsleep @loptido @raincxtter @chichikoi @ladyadii @soulsanta @sheiiths @genshinparty @eowinthetraveler @moonbyunniee @legitnoi @lemontum @manager-of-the-pudding-bank @starz222 @ilyuu @cherry-colored-petals @mondaymelon @tartaglia-apologist @soleillunne @softcosmixs @m1shapanda @aimynx @smokipoki (send ask to be added to taglist)
#[📝 stewardess' notepad!]#astronetwrk#genshin x reader#neuvillette x reader#genshin x gn reader#genshin impact x gn reader#genshin impact x reader#neuvillette x gn reader#genshin fluff#neuvillette fluff#genshin x reader sfw#neuvillette x reader sfw#melusines#genshin melusines#dad!neuvillette#found family
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Aoyama's Let's Talk Day 2025 Translation [Unofficial Sources]
EDIT: [2025-02-01]
The official transcript has been released. Please refer to my translation of it here instead.
Yesterday was Aoyama’s yearly Let’s Talk Day, a day when a lucky few audience members chosen by lottery have the chance to ask him questions. While the Q&A hasn’t yet been officially released, I’ve translated tweets about the questions asked. I can’t guarantee that they’re 100% trustworthy, but generally most questions were posted by multiple unrelated users.
In cases where different users reported slightly different answers for the same question, I consolidated them to the best of my ability. All source tweets at the end. Without further ado:
Q. When Gin travels to other countries, does he stay at hotels, or does he have safe houses? I want to know whether he uses hotel-provided amenities like bathrobes.
A. He sleeps in his car or stays at Organization-provided lodging- the Organization has apartments all over the place. He does also stay at hotels. The FBI still hasn’t discovered them. He does wear bathrobes! He has long hair so I imagine it’s tough to wash.
Q. What sports does the England-born Akai play aside from Jeet Kune Do?
A. He learnt Jeet Kune Do from his father, so has no interest in sports other than that. But I think he might be good at cricket since he’s English. Maybe baseball in America.
Q. Does Hiro have any experience with martial arts?
A. He learnt some at the police academy. He has no other experience, but he’s decently strong- weaker than Kyogoku though.
Q. As you were a guest on Kōhaku Uta Gassen [T/N: A music show that traditionally airs around New Year’s in Japan] this year, do you have plans to write a case based around it?
A. I doubt NHK would let me (haha) I did think a music show case might be fun, but they’d probably still bother me about it.
[Questioner: What if you changed the name? Like, a West vs. East tournament.]
I’ll think about it.
Q. Will the Kuroba family and Kudo family meet each other in the future?
A. Is that something you want to see? I’ll think about it.
Q. What will Momiji do now that Heiji and Kazuha are dating?
A. I don’t think Momiji will give up? She’ll do her best.
Q. How can you think up so many different characters?
A. I don’t know (haha) Maybe because I’ve seen lots of different manga, dramas, and movies.
[Questioner: So they just pop up in your mind.]
Something like that.
Q. Do you plan to write a story where Chihaya and Furuya meet?
A. Ah, so Chihayafuru, you mean (haha) It sounds interesting, so I’ll think about it.
Q. What can you tell us about this year’s movie at this point?
A. When I told Rikiya Koyama [T/N: Mouri’s VA] that Kogoro is the main character this year, he told me he was nervous. Once he was done, Takayama-san [T/N: Conan’s VA] told him he sounded cool.
Q. What’s the best part of this year’s movie?
A. I can’t say, but I think you’ll be shocked.
Q. What’s your favourite case so far?
A. Ran GIRL & Shinichi BOY. I love it.
Q. How did Kogoro manage to become a detective without deductive abilities?
A. He doesn’t have deductive abilities, but he’s good at shooting and judo. And he has Conan around. Everything works out.
Q. Was Nakamori Aoko born in September?
A. When is good?
[Questioner: Since Kaito was born on the 21st, maybe the 12th?]
I’ll think about it. I haven’t decided, but since Kaito’s birthday is June 21st (6/21), maybe September 12th (9/12) makes sense.
Q. What kind of things does Ran talk about with her karate club friends?
A. What would you like?
[Questioner: Romance talk!]
I do think they chat about that. Everyone would be interested to hear about how things are going with Shinichi. If a scene like that ever comes to mind, I’ll think about including it.
Q. What is Furuya’s family situation like?
A. Secret, as I haven’t decided for certain just yet- it might still change.
Q. Will you ever draw the moment Kazuha fell for Heiji?
A. Do you want to see it? I might.
Q. At Abeno Harukas, Heiji confessed and was holding hands with Kazuha, but did Heiji initiate the hand-holding?
A. Yes. I don’t know if I’ll ever draw that though.
Q. At Kōhaku Uta Gassen, were there any artists you enjoyed other than aiko, B’Z, and Fukuyama-san?
A. Ah, I can’t think of anyone but them. But they were all good. B’z was amazing. It was all dark in the audience seating, but when I thought “oh, something is moving,” it was truly amazing by the end. B’z is my choice! (haha)
Q. Do you have any plans for a spinoff featuring Hattori?
A. Like Zero’s Tea Time?
[Questioner: More like Hanzawa-san.]
What’s the difference between Zero’s Tea Time and Hanzawa-san? Did you want a spinoff? There’s no plans for one right now.
Q. Are there any characters you plan to have romantic developments for in the near future?
A. Kansuke and Yui, and Juugo and Chihaya… aside from that [glances at the moderator] that character… if I say who it is, we’ll get flamed online, so… (haha)
[The audience goes abuzz]
Well, yes. I can’t tell you right now (haha). Let’s leave it at that.
Q. What’s the plan for next year’s movie?
A. I can’t say, but they do already have it planned.
Q. Who will be the star of next year’s movie?
A. I can’t say, but it’s already been decided as well as the stage.
Q. I’m from Hokkaido. Do you have plans to draw any famous tourist spots in Sapporo?
A. Hakodate was recently the stage, so it would need to be some time in the future. Any recommendations?
[Questioner: Suzukake Park, Oodori Park, Sapporo TV Tower.]
Ah, got it, I’ll think about it.
Q. We know that Azusa has worked at Poirot for at least one year, but how long has she worked there in total?
A. I don’t know. Maybe since she was in high school. Oops, I just said whatever.
Q. Any plans for a movie set in Tottori?
A. Not at this time. I’ll think about it. I did try to incorporate the Tottori dialect once, but I was told it was incomprehensible. Tottori dialect is pretty hard. If we do a movie here, I’d like it to use Tottori dialect.
Q. It seems Momiji won’t give up even now that Heiji and Kazuha have gotten together, but will Iori continue to serve Momiji in the same way? Will he ever leave due to his old work?
A. He’ll be by her side forever. I think he’ll protect her until the day he dies.
Q. What would you want to eat at a Conan café?
A. Naporitan spaghetti. I have childish tastebuds, so I also like Hamburg steak and hamburgers.
Q. I like aiko, so I want to hear the behind-the-scenes details about your talk with her on Kōhaku Uta Gassen.
A. During our preparatory meeting, I asked whether I should say “Funya!”, but I was told I couldn’t (because it’s from a different agency.) [T/N: Not familiar with this myself, but maybe it’s some idol’s catchphrase or a reference to a show.]
[Questioner: After meeting aiko, did any murder case ideas come to mind?]
No (haha) It would be sad to kill her off. Maybe a case with a singer involved… I’ll think about it. Aiko was cute.
Q. Kurayoshi’s phone number area code is an important plot point in Conan, but will the city be involved in the future?
A. A coincidence. Kurayoshi residents will get mad at me otherwise.
Q. What did you do for New Year’s as a child?
A. Usually my family would ask me to visit a shrine with them, but I’d stay at home since it was too much of a pain. These days, I always go for my health. [T/N: In Japan, it’s tradition to visit a shrine on the first day of the new year.]
Q. What’s Inspector Ayanokouji’s personal life like? What are his hobbies?
A. He feeds Maro-chan. Hobbies… I wonder. He does like Maro-chan. What would you like?
[Questioner: Something like archery.]
Archery? Well, I’ll think about it.
Q. Do you have any plans for a triple date with Heiji-Kazuha, Shinichi-Ran, and Kyougoku-Sonoko?
A. I hadn’t thought of that before, but I’ll think about it.
[Questioner: So you don’t plan to think about it.]
Sorry (haha).
Q. Any information on Akai and Amuro’s chat nine hours later?
A. I can’t say. It’s a truly mysterious tea party (haha)
Q. In your Professional interview, you were eating curry, but is there any other food or snacks you like to eat while working?
A. I only really eat cheap stuff, so (haha) I’m really into the beef don mini-pack from Yoshinoya- it’s a pretty small portion. It’s healthy and good. Also, curry from Coco.
Q. The Saitama prefecture is right next to Tokyo, but has never made an appearance. Any plans for Saitama prefecture police to appear?
A. Yokomizo did show up in Saitama at first, but he did move to Shizuoka, so (haha) I tried to have him go back, but I was told that then it just seemed like he never moved at all. I’ll write about Saitama eventually. I’ll think about it.
Q. What does Kazuha like aside from aikido?
A. She likes Heiji… (haha) I think she likes cooking just like others like her would. Do you have any thoughts on what she might like?
[Questioner: What…]
[Moderator: Well, that’s what they wanted to know in the first place.]
I’ll think about it.
Q. I’m from Taiwan. Conan has only ever gone to England in the manga. Will he ever go to another country in the manga, not the movies?
A. It would be tough while he’s still Conan, as he doesn’t have a passport. His only choice is for Kid to stuff him into a suitcase, but I can’t use the same trick twice (haha) I’d like to go to Taiwan one day.
Q. Akai and Amuro infiltrated the Organization and know about Sherry, but don’t know of the existence of APTX4869?
A. They do not. There’s a reason why the details of her research and her family isn’t well-known in the Organization, but that’s secret. Even parents wouldn’t tell their children about it in the Organization.
Q. Do you plan to introduce any new Organization operatives?
A. What would you like?
[Questioner: Amaretto!]
I'll think about it.
Q. Do you plan to draw Shinichi and KID facing off?
A. Shinichi. You mean big Shinichi, huh? I’d love to. (haha)
Q. What last name do you like, or would like to have?
A. Kudo! (haha) Since Kudo Yuusaku as portrayed by Matsuda Yuusaku was cool. If I can, I’d love to become one! (haha)
Q. Did you decide that Heiji would confess on a tall Osaka building even before the Abeno Harukas tower was completed? [T/N: It opened in 2014]
A. I decided after the Abeno Harukas tower was completed. But I did know from the start that Kazuha’s mother would make an appearance to include a twist.I wanted everyone to think that he’d confess to her mother by mistake.
Q. Who’s stronger between Kogoro and Ran?
A. That’s quite the question (haha) Kogoro is strong! But, Ran is catastrophically strong too (haha). I think it’s hard to say? But if they fought against each other, he’d probably hold back against Ran. Since he’s her dad.
Q. You can really feel the cultural differences between Kyushu and Tokyo. Do you plan to write a case based on that?
A. I’d like to.
Q. Do you have any special tidbits for us aside from what you’ve already told us?
A. Kansuke and Yui and Koumei’s childhood will appear in the movie. Take a good look at the illustration I drew for the Conan Tanteisha store as well.
Q. Anything you’d want to incorporate into Tottori’s Mystery Tour? Tourist spots and restaurants you’d recommend?
A. I’d like them to make use of Tottori’s Odaiba, crabs, and apple-pears.
Q. Who’s the tallest among all your characters?
A. Date and Gin! Kyougoku is a little shorter, but those three are the tallest. Kazami is too tall in the anime. He should be the same height as Furuya. [T/N: One source also claimed he said that Gin is taller than Date.]
Q. Will Miyano Shiho and Kudo Shinichi ever star in the same case?
A. Ah, I can’t tell you that. Whoops, I almost let something slip (haha)
Sources
https://twitter.com/hrksdc/status/1875104017174639079
https://twitter.com/brainwashednerd/status/1875109428812460351
https://twitter.com/yuki_det_con/status/1875121186411348179
https://twitter.com/Flambe4869/status/1875236194071834928
https://twitter.com/nyarura73/status/1875104933978206521
https://twitter.com/mskAK25/status/1875125288943989101
https://twitter.com/furu_rei0/status/1875126654412177457
https://twitter.com/44_mcs/status/1875132311219634602
https://twitter.com/44_mcs/status/1875119113670144425
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![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/96d0b8c560241448a392e73f5095eb71/615c79cc6727dfeb-68/s540x810/c5f815c1a9d5d162de9ea01c5f02804c4086ad6c.jpg)
Your dad has always said you swim as if your were born to be in the water; the rest of your family has always said that he is the whole reason you turned out like that.
So, it's not really a surprise when you had used all the money you got for your 7th birthday to buy a surfboard. And even less of a surprise when you started joining small surf competitions by the time you were 10, later followed by bigger competitions.
It seems you are the only one surprised when it turns out you're able to compete in the World Surfer's League's Ultimate Tournament Tour*.
Thrown into a mix of fellow surfing prodigies, rookies, and pros, do you really have what it takes to win?
RIPTIDE is a 16+ slice-of-life interactive fiction that includes optional sexual content, alcohol and drug use, coarse language, mentions of death of a parent, and dysfunctional families.
pinterest intros
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/5150648dd96ef01debecc7957fe5873e/615c79cc6727dfeb-fb/s540x810/750092c0693dcf2c0be9ebfa6fa50d26d9ed0158.jpg)
customize your character, from gender, (including transgender options) pronouns, personality, physical appearance, clothing style, dynamics, public persona, and more.
decide what your strengths and weaknesses are as a surfer and choose from.
romance one of four romantic options - your best friend's brother, your childhood friend, your ex, or your fellow competitor, along with three polyamorous options and flings.
compete in an international surfing competition and see how you fare against your fellow surfers.
learn how to balance family, romance, and surfing; or don't, and suffer the consequences.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/d38a3d8f38f041c4160436b584da2d81/615c79cc6727dfeb-e9/s540x810/b3829bb14c35bedcd98f5e4ee992253731022633.jpg)
Arlo Song [male, he/him], your best friend’s twin brother.
Reliable and patient, Arlo is the poster child for the 'boy next door' trope. Arlo, despite living in Hawai'i since he was 13, has never been one for beaches or sports, choosing to spend his day in an art studio rather than on the beach, unlike most of the people he knows, including his twin sister; Aria. He's always kept you at arms length for reasons you aren't quite sure about.
Hilo Kalua Mahoe [nonbinary, they/them], your childhood best friend.
Apathetic and reserved, Hilo has been by your side since before you can remember (though your family has many pictures to prove this). Hilo is your exceptionally talented unofficial-official photographer, has been for years, and is accompanying you on the UTT. Ever since you were kids you’ve been hearing comments that Hilo is prickly or mean, but they’re never like that with you.
Elijah/Elaine Lee Ferguson [gender selectable], your rockstar ex.
Impulsive and (seemingly) confident E, more commonly known as ‘Lee Rex’ on stage and just Lee to their friends, is exactly what one would expect out of a rockstar. Your meeting with Lee was purely by coincidence, during their US tour, a show that a couple of your friends dragged you to— though if you knew that know you probably wouldn’t have agreed to go. Whatever Lee was like as your partner is long gone now; evident by all the photos they’ve posted making out with someone on their Instagram story.
Noemia/Nikita Azevedo [gender selectable], your wildcard competitor.
Charismatic and arrogant, N has already made a name for themselves in the surfing community. After placing in the final five in the last UTT, they’ve been chosen as a wildcard this time around. Really, you don’t know all that much about N, considering you’ve never even met them, but from your limited research (e.g: watching interviews on YouTube) you can tell they’re.. a bit of a flirt. It’s hard to tell if a facade or not; but you don’t really want to find out, either.
#interactive fiction#choice of games#interactive novel#interactive game#interact if#cog#choice script#choose your own adventure#choose your own story#if wip#cog wip#interactive fiction wip#no demo#sorry :p#soon tho!
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Hey guys, this is kind of sudden but my time in genshinresource will end starting today. I've given a lot of thoughts about this but I can't find joy in Genshin anymore, to the point that I feel uncomfortable just by looking at any Genshin-related stuff, therefore I thought it would be best to stop now. Should anyone wants to make another Genshin resource blog or wants to look for other official art, you can find the source links for everything under this post's break line.
This blog will still be open for public view but it won't be updated any further, same goes for the AIO links and the Ask box will be disabled permanently. I will now fully focus on my Star Rail resource blog instead and will keep running it for as long as I can.
Thank you everyone for the past 2 years. I really appreciate all your thoughts and encouraging messages as well as all the new stuff I could learn from you guys. I apologize for not being able to contribute to the Genshin community anymore.
So long, everyone.
CN links:
Genshin's Miyoushe forum: https://www.miyoushe.com/ys/home/28 - Almost everything can be downloaded without the need of Miyoushe account except avatar frames and other account-related settings. The 资讯 tab is where they post all official art like birthday artworks, celebration artworks etc.
Official Genshin CN Bilibili: https://space.bilibili.com/401742377/dynamic
Official Genshin Weibo: https://weibo.com/ysmihoyo
Official Paimon's Work Note Bilibili: https://space.bilibili.com/1669328690/dynamic
Official Paimon's Work Note Weibo: https://weibo.com/pmmihoyo
Teyvat Fan Association's Bilibili: https://space.bilibili.com/1113861913/dynamic - This is where they post all stuff related to sponsored special fan-made programs like New Year Party, Birthday Party countdown artworks etc.
Global links:
Genshin's HoYoLAB forum: https://www.hoyolab.com/circles/2/27/official?page_type=27&page_sort=events.
HoYoFair's HoYoLAB forum: https://www.hoyolab.com/accountCenter/postList?id=244938673
Official Genshin Twitter EN | JP | KR | BR | ES | FR | TH | ID | RU
Official HoYoFair Twitter: https://twitter.com/HoYoFair_0
Official Paimon JP Twitter: https://twitter.com/paimon_genshin7
Official HoYoLAB Twitter: https://twitter.com/HoYoLAB_Mimo
Official Genshin Reddit: https://www.reddit.com/r/Genshin_Impact/
Official Genshin HoYoWiki: https://wiki.hoyolab.com/pc/genshin/home
Unofficial Genshin wiki: https://genshin-impact.fandom.com/wiki/Genshin_Impact_Wiki
Media-focused links:
HoYoWiki's Genius Invokation TCG cards: https://wiki.hoyolab.com/pc/genshin/aggregate/tcg_character
Official Genius Invokation TCG display page: https://act.hoyoverse.com/ys/event/e20221207-card-dhcksn/index.html
Official Genshin CN's version KV gallery: https://act.mihoyo.com/ys/event/community-content-collection/index.html#/wallpaper - recommended for CN logo KVs if you can't download from Baidu Wangpan
asddzr's Bilibili for upscaled art: https://space.bilibili.com/1550564/dynamic
景三尧's Weibo (another upscaler with great art quality): https://weibo.com/u/7654321688
For twins version birthday shorts, you can find a lot from Miyoushe forum by searching with CN character name + 生日 but it's best to bookmark user(s) who often post them, I usually went to this user's profile page for those.
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Do i wanna know?
summary: fleeing to college after catching your highschool sweetheart cheating, you find yourself right back in your home town 4 years later. your degree almost complete & your sanity slowly slipping, you find solace in the one place you know you shouldn’t. your dads best friend. Dean Winchester.
word count: idk something embarrassingly long probably🫣
warnings : mature 18+, dbf, AU, yearning AF, spn content, grumpy/sunshine ish?? idk (im trying to include most of the main characters from spn, again AU)
a/n: this is my 2nd ever fic so pls be nice 😔 (& lmk your thoughts, any ideas you may want added) i have every intention of making this a series, if you wanna be added to my tag list just comment 🫶🏼 with alllll this being said i hope you enjoy 🥲
The airport was alive with chaos—families reuniting, announcements echoing overhead, and the constant shuffle of luggage wheels against tiled floors. you adjusted the strap of your duffel bag & guitar case as you took a steadying breath as you followed the crowd toward baggage claim.
It had been months since you last came home, and even longer since you had really felt at home. College had consumed you, with its never-ending stream of exams, late-night study sessions, and endless cups of cheap coffee. Now, with your degree in psychology just a semester away, the weight of expectations pressed heavier on your shoulders.
you tugged her phone from your pocket and skimmed the last text from your dad.
| see you soon kid. we can stop at Bobby’s diner on the way home. i know he’d be over the moon to see you, bet you’re sick of all that tofu & books. don’t forget your still my daughter- not some Freud-loving brainiac”
you stifle a giggle as you head towards the parking lot, eyes skimming for the old green dodge your dad refuses to part with. you let your thoughts drift back to a time before you left for college. when you were waitressing at Bobby’s diner, when you were still with that jackass Colter. when the world felt as if it was falling apart. you quickly shake the thoughts from your head, moving your feet along the pavement out the double doors. your eyes fall on your dads truck, he jumps out with a 9 mile smile as he runs towards you.
“dad! oh my gosh i’ve missed you”
your dad picks you up, wrapping you in one of his signature bear hugs. you melted into his embrace, breathing in the scent of motor oil and aftershave.
“sticks, Look who’s back from the land of overpriced coffee and vegan muffins!”
“Dad, not everyone in college eats vegan muffins.” you laughed.
as your dad grabs your bags, he bombards you with questions. “how was school?” “didn’t meet another jackass like that one boy did you?” “i’m so glad you’re home now sticks, i was real tired of eating take out”
finally. this is what you were searching for. the peace feeling only your dad can seem to give you. the home feeling. you bite the inside of your cheek, feeling the warm smile trying to seep through the wedges in your teeth. you glance out the window, seeing all the familiar streets & shops. the Macleod bakery, Harvelles road house, the dentist your dad would fight tooth & nail to get you into. how was Garth now? you found yourself wondering. it’s been a long time since you were home, you couldn’t be happier. for the first time in years you felt as if you had absolutely no worries. none at all, well until your dad said
“i planned you a welcome home party, more like a bbq but dean was more than happy to let us use his grill. it’s saturday if that works for you sweetheart?”
Dean Winchester had been a part of your life for as long as you could remember, like an unofficial uncle who never missed a BBQ or a birthday. He and your dad, J.P., had been best friends since their teens, inseparable through thick and thin. Dean was brash, charming, and had a knack for pushing your buttons in the way only he could. you hadn’t seen him since Christmas, but the memory of his teasing smirk lingered in your mind.
“sweetheart? is that okay?”
you fumble over your words, trying to push them out & making them seem as nonchalant as possible.
“yeah uh that’s fine dad. can’t wait”
you glance up to see your dad pulling into his usual parking spot outside Bobby’s diner. Bobby was a good man, your dad’s parents weren’t around when you were born so Bobby was quick to claim you as his own granddaughter. blood or not, youre family. as you open the creaky door of your dads old truck, you find every peace of worry gone again. you practically skip to the door, tearing it open as you glance around. ‘that old man really doesn’t change shit’ you thought to yourself.
“sticks? is that really you?”
you thought you were fine, you really convinced yourself until you heard that deep baritone voice. now you felt the ache of tears pressing against your eyes. you whip your head around, eyes meeting the one & only Bobby Singer. the whole diners stopped eating & talking. honing in on the grumpy old man facade slipping from Bobby’s face. you find yourself jogging over to him, he drops the tray to the floor as he quickly envelopes you into a hug.
“Pops! it’s so good to see you”
your voice is muffled from the hold Bobby has on you, his own tears falling down his face into his flannel to mix with yours. you glance up meeting his eyes as he says
“damnit girl, i can’t believe you’re here. how was school? you back for good?”
you pull yourself away hesitantly
“i’m back for good pops. finishing out my last semester here, was hoping you still had that waitressing position open”
your eyebrows shoot up hopefully as a small smirk falls on your face, Bobby wraps his arm around your shoulder as he chuckles
“for you? of course.”
Bobby’s eyes finally meet your fathers, he pulls Jp into a tight hug
“hell boy why didn’t you tell me she was coming home. i’d have-“
jp chuckles as he cuts bobby off
“listen old man, you got enough going on. plus i figured a surprise would do you some good. especially a sticks shaped surprise”
hours passed as you sat & caught up with Bobby, his eyes never leaving yours. almost like he couldn’t believe you were really here. you talked about school, the waitressing job you had in California (but making sure to let Bobby know no place could compare to his). as you ate a smile never left your face, Jp & Bobby telling you stories about the 4 years you were gone. youre laughing, you’re crying. you didn’t know you could feel so many emotions just by coming home. you’re about to leave when Bobby pulls you aside. hugging you as he tells you
“sticks now listen. i know you don’t wanna hear what i’m bout to say but i also know if you hear it from anyone else you’ll lose it. Col-“
you pull away, locking eyes with Bobby
“pops please don’t-“
“wait just a second lemme finish. Colters getting married. got a baby on the way”
you felt the ground beneath your crumble. no, no, no. that couldn’t be happening. your highschool sweetheart. your first kiss, your first- well everything. sure he was mean, a tiny bit abusive but he was yours. or so you thought.
“what do you mean pops? he- he can’t be. there’s no way”
you stumble back but before you fall, bobby’s arms are around you.
“i know kiddo. i know. but hey, maybe it’s better this way huh?”
his hands are wiping the tears you didn’t realize were falling. you had so many questions, did he really love me? how could he move on? why did he never reach out? well maybe it’s because he was too busy out getting some skank pregnant. wait no you can’t think like that, she didn’t do anything to you. it wasn’t like this mystery woman was holding your heart in your hands, no that was that stupid prick Colter.
“who?”
“who what sticks?”
bobby’s eyes look too worrisome. you hate when he gives you those eyes.
“who is he marrying”
bobby sighs, suddenly finding the sticky old floorboards far more interesting than the expression that’s gunna cross your face.
“jo.”
oh that hurt, jo. jo harvelle. your childhood bestfriend. bobby’s grip tightened on you, holding you steady as you go through the waves crashing through you. anger. hurt. betrayal. your dad approaches, seeing the light leave your eyes. he glances at Bobby, sharing a knowing look with him. he wraps his arm around, letting you bid your farewells as he lead you to the truck. as he opened the door for you, you slung yourself into the seat.
“sticks i- i’m sorry”
you wipe the rest of the tears from your face, nodding as you glance around the truck. your eyes get stuck on the polaroid of you & jo. a picture you used to cherish so deeply, but now you’d rather see it cast into the pits of hell. your dad catches what you’re eyes are lingering on as he closes your door. he makes his way around to his side, quickly grabbing the polaroid & stashing it away. he knew when you got told the news things would be different, your pain would be different. Colter was one thing, your highschool sweetheart who never lived up to the ‘sweetheart’ part. the man who made you shed more tears than you ever should’ve, the man who left you alone wondering where he was most nights when he was shacking it up at Harvelles bar, who wouldn’t answer his phone. your dad knew all this, he was the one you called when you couldn’t take it anymore. he was the one who came & picked you up from Colters parents house the night you ended things. the night you found out he cheated. 2 weeks before you left for college. your dad also knew that after you left, there wasn’t a thing he could say or do to make you come back. Jo on the other hand, she was your best friend. practically your sister. there wasn’t a weekend where Jo wasn’t at his house, in his pool, watching you & him work on cars & when you got older the one who helped you sneak those cars out. the one you called when Colter wasn’t treating you right. the one who called you when she knew Colter was at her moms bar. it felt unreal to your father, he couldn’t imagine how you felt.
The hum of tires on asphalt filled the silence as you pulled into the driveway of your childhood home. The house looked the same—warm porch lights glowing, the familiar sight of your first car parked sideways on the side of the house. the garage open, showing the new muscle car your dad must be going nuts over. Jp killed the engine and exhaled deeply. After four years away at college, home felt both comforting and alien.
Inside, you found seemingly nothing changed. the recliner was still the same, the stacks of car manuals everywhere, the coffee cup sized rim indentions on your dads side table, the only different thing was a picture you & your dad took on the 4th of july hanging above the tv stand. you’re standing in a pair of old jean shorts, your red bikini top sneaking out the side of your old worn white t-shirt covered in motor oil. your dad has his signature blue dodgers cap on, his mechanic uniform still clinging to him. laughing right back with you as he holds his belly. Sam took the picture & you were so thankful he did. you carried yourself up to your childhood bedroom, the only thing that changed was the size of the bed. instead of the measly little twin you now were the proud owner of a queen. the sage green comforter looked like a cloud, a dream even.
you dig out a change of clothes, your toiletries & make your way to your bathroom. the peace sign poster you picked out with Jo staring menacingly at you through the reflection. you hesitate for a second before deciding to rip it down. you crumble it up, throwing it in the trash can as you run a hand through your hair. stupid. that’s how you felt. why did you think you’d come back & everything would be waiting for you like the day you left? your eyes longed for tears to fall, you glance up catching yourself in the reflection before you shake your shoulders & sigh. you rip the airport clothes off, turning on a hot shower as you slip in. you hum the tune of an AC/DC song as you lather the soap in your hands & through your hair. you’re back, regardless of how anyone else feels. your got your job back at Bobby’s, you’re finishing your degree this year. everything’s gunna work out. everything’s gunna be fine, but if that was the truth why did you feel as if something was missing?
you get out of the shower, quickly drying off as you throw on a old tank top & a pair of sweats. you towel dry your hair, glancing over to the fogged up mirror as you pull a brush through it. you throw your dirty clothes in your laundry basket as you slide on your slippers. you make your way back to your room, settling down on the bed as you open up your bag.
your dads footsteps tear you from your thoughts, you glance up as he’s carrying a beer. you take it thankfully as he settles beside you on the bed, glancing over at your guitar case.
“you still play sticks?”
you nod, as you take a swig of your beer
“i do. ain’t played as much as id like too with how busy things have been though”
your dad takes a swig of his own beer, he smiles as he says
“well after dinner i want you to play me something”
you smile & nod, you loved playing for your dad. he’s who taught you really, who gave you the guitar you lug around everywhere. you run your fingers absentmindedly across the label of the beer as you think back to the time he gave you the guitar. it was your 11th birthday, the smile he beamed down at you was something you’d never allow yourself to forget. that, that was probably your happiest memory. your dads voice interrupts your thoughts as he says
“well i’ll be out in the garage. we’ll have some company for dinner since i gotta work from home today. you need me you come find me okay sugar?”
you smile to yourself, boy was it great to have someone care so much for you. you were used to just being ignored, not making but 1 singular friend in your years of college. Ashley. she was like a girl you’d never met before, ambitious, smart, beautiful, funny. the sarcasm that girl carried was something unreal. your dad already loved her after meeting her the one singular time he flew out to visit. you plop down on your bed, pulling your phone out as you quickly press ashley’s number. she picks up after the 3rd sing yelling through the phone
“sticks! come back oh god i’ll never make it without you”
sticks? since when did ashley also call you that? what is with everyone wanting this nickname to stick? you roll your eyes at your unintentional pun
“well hello there ash i miss you too” you giggle into the phone
“but no seriously how is it? feel better being at home?”
you bite back the endless trials of emotions you went through today, choosing not to unload the disaster your life’s become in a measly 24 hours. you find yourself picking at the thread of your sweats as you offer small talk, informing her you got your job back at the diner until you graduate. her swearing she’s flying out the second the gets the chance. you giggle & talk as you glance at the clock, you realized you completely lost track of time & you were sure dinner was ready. you hang up, promising you’ll call her after your first day as you make your way downstairs, the scent of ordered in pizza catches your nose as you giggle to yourself. as your feet touch the bottom step your dad turns to you
“well there she is, cmon sticks say hello”
you walk around the doorframe as your heart catches in your throat. Dean. Winchester.
“hey Freud” he greeted, his voice low drawl “long time no see”
“Freud, really?” you arched any eyebrow, meeting his gaze. his green eyes sparkled with mischief, & that smirk — God that smirk — was firmly in place.
“Freud, Jung, whoever you kids are into these days” dean shot back, standing from his place on the couch.
your dad chuckles
“don’t mind him, he’s just mad he’s too old to understand what you’re studying”
you laugh as you shake your head
dean cuts in as he says
“oh i understand it just fine” he said as he walks up to you “it’s all about mommy issues, right?”
you snorted
“i’m studying psychology, not you dean”
your dad burst out laughing, deans smirk faltering for a moment. he gave you an exaggerated bow as he says “Touchè”
as your dad drags dean over to the table you let yourself study his features, he looked the same — rough around the edges but effortlessly put together. his hands calloused & stained in motor oil. the veins prominent as he grabs the pizza box, smiling at something your father said. you quickly averted your gaze, feeling an unwelcomed heat creep up your neck.
“so sticks you nervous bout being back?”
your dad asks
you hesitated unsure of how to answer especially after the whirlwind of emotions you had to overcome today.
“a little. it’s been awhile, you know? i’m used to being busy all the time. having my job back at Pops surely will help though”
“well you’re home now.” your dad said, his voice warm. “relax, eat something other than cafeteria food & maybe give some of your old man here some of that brainiac advice” he beams
“careful” dean adds smirking, “you might open a can of worms with that one if you ain’t careful ‘old man’ “
you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smirk that fell on your face. it felt good to be back, banter, baggage & all.
—————————————
by the time you made it to the table you were trying to decide if you could just crawl up to your room or out the window, on the latter they would definitely know something was up. i mean your dad knew, he seen it first hand all day. but dean? no. he could not & would not see you crumble over something like that. it was hard enough to try to keep the actual relationship issues from dean when it happened, he definitely didn’t need the after effects.
you decided what’s the worst that could happen, you’re in your own home. with your father, & really you were just nervous. you did not expect to see dean today, not any day before saturday really. that’s why you find yourself turning to your dad & joking
“i’m surprised the houses still stands after how long i was gone”
“barely sticks” jp jokes as he grumbles “dean here only fixed the roof last week, don’t lean on the railing. it’s a death trap”
“hey that’s quality work” dean protests before taking a bite of his pizza
“quality work” you echoed, eyeing him. “remind me not to hire you when i get my own place.”
dean grins, leaning back in his chair as he wipes the pizza sauce from his lip
“don’t worry. i charge extra for smartasses”
your dad throws him a joking glare as he gets up to fetch some beers, leaving you both alone for the first moment since youve been home. you shift in your seat as you take a bite of your pizza.
“it’s good to see you sticks” dean said, his tone softer now as he catches your eye
you look up, startled by the sincerity in his voice. a small smile fights it way to your lips as you say “you too dean”
for a fleeting moment, you felt as if something electric, & impossible to ignore flashed between you. as quick as the moment appeared it dissolved when your dad breached the door with a huge grin
“beers here”
————————-
#dean winchester#dean winchester angst#dean winchester smut#dean winchester x female character#dean winchester x female!reader#dean winchester x you#dean winchester x reader#dean x reader#dean winchester imagine#jensen fucking ackles#jensen ackles#dean angst#dean fluff#dean winchester fluff#dbf!dean#do i wanna know master list
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👒🏴☠️ Join us to celebrate our Pirate King's birthday!
❗️This is an UNOFFICIAL event organized by fans for fans. This was made for fun so please enjoy the event once it begins!
LUFFY Week 2024, April 29 - May 5
Guidelines:
- This event is hosted from April 29 - May 5 to celebrate our beloved Pirate King's birthday!
- Please use the following tags during the event:
#Luffy Week #Luffy Week 2024
- All forms of artwork (fanart, fanfics, edits, etc) are welcomed! (Al generated images are
EXCLUDED.)
- Sensitive content (NSFW, violence, etc) is allowed but please tag and censor properly!
- Additional characters are okay! However, please try to keep the content Luffy focused.
- You may start to post the artworks at April 29 12AM / 00:00 JST
Prompts:
Day 1 - "I'm going to become King of the Pirates!" / Silly / Smilw
Day 2 - Movie Luffy / Favorite Outfit / Gears
Day 3 - Food / Sleep / Sunflower
Day 4 - "I still have my friends!" / Selfish Selflessness / Emotion
Day 5 - Family / Friends / Little Brother
Day 6 - "This is my peak!" / Sun / God
Day 7 - Luffy Day!! / Freedom / Free Prompt
#one piece#monkey d. luffy#luffy week#luffy week 2024#luffy#straw hat luffy#monkey d luffy#fandom events#one piece event
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Speaking as a HUGE VA fan here, it's expressed in 10-year anniversary edition of VA that Christian was born sometime in between Christmas and Thanksgiving, like around the opening week of December. In my head, Christian's birthday is probably December 2nd or something ^^
ooh that's interesting. I've actually been going through and making my own digital copies of all the VA short stories lol and I have one left to do so it must be mentioned in that one since I don't remember seeing that.
I do find that odd though because I'm sure it's also mentioned somewhere by RM that Dimitri was a Sagittarius? Those characters could not be more different lmaoooooo
#but i mean i flipped adrians unofficial birthday to be march 8th so he could be a pisces#sometimes we just have to be a little silly xx#character birthdays#christian ozera#ask bri#damnedestcreations
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THREE @#)%ING DAYS LATE, BUT HERE IT IS. HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY TO MY #1 FAVORITE SALESMAN 1997 [[and all-time favorite character]] !!!🎂🥳🚗💵
(UNOFFICIAL BIRTHDAY, that is) I wasn't going to color this, but since I'm already late, I might as well slap on some colors, right?!
FUN FACT: Spamton is an Earth Horse (1978) and a Taurus if we go by this fan date (the birth of the first SPAM mail).
#my art#spamton#spamton g spamton#deltarune#big shot spamton#big shot era#deltarune chapter 2#spamton neo#sneo#NEO#happy birthday#spamton birthday#I HAVE NO IDEA what I'm doing with the colors here#I SPENT TOO MUCH TIME TRYING TO FIGURE OUT NEO'S ARMOR#I started this DAY OF May 3rd but stuff happened and NOW I'M LATE FOR THIS VERY IMPORTANT DATE!
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sorry for the long wait.. it’s been a rough couple of months 😅. part one here
yourinstagram
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liked by arianagrande, drewstarkey and 4,299,719 others
yourinstagram ur up diaries
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arianagrande miss u already
↳ yourinstagram miss u more 🫶🏼
madelyncline Paris was fun too
↳ yourinstagram Ik we have to go back soon!!
ynfan91 omg Ari and Y/N dreams do come true
drewfan18 we need more y/n and drew content asap…
drewstarkey
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liked by jonathandavissofficial, hichasestokes and 1,644,806 others
drewstarkey 👽
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hichasestokes I knew you were hiding something
yourinstagram get a load of this hottie
drewfan61 Y/N???!!&@/&9//@/!'j
↳ ynfan181 did she lie tho
↳ drewfan61 ykw she didn't
drewfan018 l'd gladly get a load of him
↳ chasefan029 OH THATS NOT-
madisonbaileybabe
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liked by yourinstagram, madelyncline and 1,728,640 others
madisonbaileybabe Paris w/ the gorls
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drewstarkey heyyyy
drewstarkey you forgot about me :(
↳ madelyncline it was supposed to be a girls trip!
↳ madisonbaileybabe no one invited you!!
obxfan607 not them jumping Drew in the comments 😭😭
drewfan97 if the maddies didn’t invite Drew then that means y/n did 🤭
↳ ynfan263 wait…
yourinstagram hey leave my friend alone :(
drewfan084 “friend” mhmm 😏
yourinstagram
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liked by drewstarkey, sabrinacarpenter and 5,927,561 others
yourinstagram wow wow wow thank u thank u thank u.
never would have imagined I’d be winning an Oscar for the beautifully written character that is Riley Williams.
thank u to everyone who helped shaped her story, character, and me for this role. overwhelmingly grateful is an understatement.
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drewstarkey you deserve the world
*pinned by yourinstagram*
arianagrande crying I’m so happy
sza you just ego.. or whatever Viola Davis said
ynfan65 wow you deserve this and more🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽
zendaya PROUD 🥹🥹🥹
madelyncline i’m friends with a Oscar winner nobody talk to me
drewstarkey
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drewstarkey happy birthday, crazy girl
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ynfan019 forget everything else WHATS THE CATS NAME
drewfan112 y/n being the only person to get a birthday post out of him… I’m fine this is fine 😀
ynfan23 I bet pics 1 & 3 from celebrating her birthday today 🥹
obxfan177 no one is acknowledging her saying that Drew is her cat’s dad 😭😭😭😭
↳ drewfan43 I 100% believe that it’s an unofficial confirmation that they’re together
#obx#drew starkey#drewstarkey#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron#rafe x y/n#rafe obx#jj maybank#kiara carrera#obx3#pope heyward#rafe x you#y/n#insta au#rafe outer banks#rafe fanfiction#obx fanfiction#fanfic#rafe x reader#rafe fic#drew x reader#john b obx#sarah cameron#rafe imagine
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